Robin Hood's Barn 



smiles which he dispensed along the highway were 

 the largess of a generous king. Indeed, as he 

 drove his plowshare through the field behind our 

 house, or charioteered his steeds in a round in- 

 closing coiu-se, I must confess that I took pleas- 

 ure in him as part of the primitive beauty of the 

 landscape. He was eloquent of the rich and un- 

 tamed vigor of the earth. But I protest not once 

 had it occurred to me to detach him as a person 

 from the scene. 



StiU of his drama that was so ignominiously 

 to include me, I was aware with just the tail-end 

 corner of my eye. In the hot, sultry mom, I 

 had seen him drive into the meadow, ripe for 

 mowing with a clattering of his machine and a 

 loud heartening of his steeds. And for a space, 

 I had paused to watch the timothy as it fell over 

 stifily in broad silver swathes. But later as I 

 worked about my place, I was disturbed by 

 unaccustomed stillness. I missed the whir of 

 knives, the rattle of the chains, the driver's riug- 

 ing calls. Then looking out I saw the horses 

 standing idle munching, belly deep in grass, what 

 should have been a winter meal. From the cool 

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