Agriculture

If you live near here, you’ve been encased in ice for the last day or so. A quarter inch of it wrapped around every surface, everything glimmering. There is a brittle beauty to the ice-encrusted landscape. The pasture is paved with Baccarat. The blackberry patch lit with neon as the sun glints off the glassed-in canes. The branches of the wild plum trees are transformed into crackling wind chimes that break off if you brush too close beneath them. It will remain this way until the thermometer rises above freezing early next week. Enchanting? Sure, but also a royal pain in the ass. The ice is even more paralyzing than a deep winter snow. I generally start clearing driveways and walkways with my trusty snow shovel as soon as the storm stops. But this arctic crust that formed is impervious! My shovel just glides along the top, ineffectually, as do I. Luckily, my friend Steve is here for a refresher course in farming before he takes charge and I decamp for a ski trip. “And don’t tell them I farm ‘like