They Doubted His Pine Trees Until Nineteen Eighty Eight Proved Him Right

held longer.

Not magically. Not perfectly. But visibly.

The rows of pine trees broke the wind. Their shadows moved across the grass in dark bands. The snow they had trapped during the sparse winter storms had soaked into the soil instead of blowing away. The ground between the rows stayed cooler. The cattle bedded there in the afternoons, chewing slowly continue reading …