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The harvest is a time for celebration, a time for work, and a time for reckoning.  When it is done, we know how many berries we have, how many pictures we have, how many friends we have, and we wonder where we are going next.  The day after the harvest, everyone is relaxed.  The trucks are idle and parked neatly, the fields turn a bright crimson, and it is not so obvious what to do in the morning.

Of course, even as the last berry is counted, it is time to think of next year's berries.  I met Henry on the bogs yesterday.  He was leaning back in the leather seat of his SUV instead of perched on his berry beater.   For once the gold chain around his neck looked like a decoration instead of a weight.  He was smiling, he was thinking about his wife coming in from Puerto Rico, he was remembering kind bus drivers and explaining to me about whether to leave his car at Sagamore or Tedeschi's, and we were both agreeing that the bus was the best way to Logan.

He headed home to take a shower and get on the bus....but, on the way to the bus he was going to swing by the bog in Patuisset, check the boards of a dam against the high tide, and spread some fertilizer.

Til next wishes for fruitful growth.

the end

A Walk on the Bog

Over Patuisset Marsh