(where we picked enough for the week — winter's crop is already stored away — and had enough saved from the picking to have a picnic supper in one corner of the orchard with food we brought with us, finding two cinder blocks discarded in the tall mowing grass and sat there and the rain had stopped in time to pick but the leaves were all wet. And later we visited Eleanor, in the village, and talked of time's past, which is timeless.)
susan
