Making Cider

There is the day your friend visits and finds the  trees  heavy with  fruit.  Ripe. Rotten almost.    The apples  riddled with worms.  You’ve  let them drop to the ground.   One after another.  Hoping a bear will come.  Or  deer.  To eat the apples. Your friend says, you know these will make great cider, right? …

The Edge of Everything

I go to the woods, the forest, the place where trees grow.    I go there to find the leaves of maple trees, the loam of their rotted bodies.  I need to cart these to the garden.   I’m trying.  The trees are tightly spaced, and the leaves packed hard between the tangled tree roots.  What should I do with…