“I guess I always wanted to be a farmer.” I expected laughter, but instead the silence plunged deeper.

“No,” said the farmer. “You don’t. The vermin, the too-small harvest, the too-big loneliness, up before dawn, asleep after dark. The forces of nature and God bending you to their will. Breaking you. And of course, this part of the country is prone to The Early Frost.”

--Written by Jacob Duarte Spiel.

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