by Anglo-American Farmer Bodwyn Wook
Dear Anthony, it is Spring and the work is picking up, I calibrated a graindrill at the weekend and then it went all wet and rainy. Had the farrier in and the horses are all shod in summer pattens and fine. I’m going to sow a little alfalfa and oats for top cover one of these times. And then the slurphouse barley contract for the local brewery (they must remain nameless, “proprietary information” and all that.) Meanwhile, I am knocking together some beehives, not keps but wooden boxes…. Tomorrow I have to thin a lot of new tomatoes in their starter pots and am going to keep the hens in whilst I fidget with some fencing. It’s because of Sammy Skunk and The Weasel. Then its off up to Mankato rotting in its hole and under its oldtime Indian curse, to go ride on the carousel in the mall with Them Grandkids, Anthony, you say such nice things about me in your book I blush, just a little, but you are very kind. Thank you! You write well and tell a fine story, may I say of a life well-lived and as honestly as could be? All my best to you and Eric and THE Cat, I hear on “Radio 4” that you are having fifty-degree weather. We did too — last weekend! All my love to you all, Bodwyn Wook!
[Bodwyn Wook all rights reserved 23 March 2009]