gravel and unhooked the latch on the tractor cab door. “I told her how things stand. I am not going to argue about it while the weather holds.”
By two o’clock the clouds had dropped so low that the yard light on the corner post clicked on early.
I sat on the living room rug with a basket of fresh laundry between my knees, folding Mason’s heavy cotton socks into blue pairs. Mason sat four feet away, pushing a wooden tractor across the pattern of the braided rug while making a low humming noise in his throat.
I smoothed a maroon bath towel against my lap.
North forty seed corn cost eighty-two dollars a bag at the Oelwein coop last spring. For forty acres at two bags to the acre, the whole bill came to six thousand five hundred and sixty dollars.
Even with early cash discounts and advanced hybrid
