But in the spring that whole countryside turned into a fairyland. Acre on acre burst into blossom until one saw pink and white for miles. The perfume was inescapable; it seeped through closed doors and shuttered windows, inside, outside, everywhere. From a distance, an orchard of peaches in bloom had the look of acres of fragile cotton candy. Close up, the petals fluttered down with only a whisper of wind. The earth looked frosted with pink and white, and if one happened to find oneself making love in such an orchard on a spring day for no reason at all, well… It had been damn tough for Bett to go back to teaching high school French in Milwaukee.

In June, they returned, this time for good. Everyone said they were crazy to come here. Everyone was absolutely right. They knew nothing about farming. Bett was twenty-one, with a B.A. in French; Zach was twenty-three and had just completed his second year of law school. They were both very happy, that first year of their marriage…and one look at the land had caught both of them, like rabbits in a snare. There’d been no going back.

Bett’s wandering eye paused again, this time catching sight of something strangely out of sync in the natural landscape. Definitely out of sync. A very old boot was weaving back and forth in the air, the ankle to which it was attached resting on a jean-clad knee. The owner of the boot was lying flat in the grass by the pond, his short-sleeved shirt open and his head resting on a log. His eyes were closed and a long blade of grass was stuck between his teeth.

So. Guess who else had had the unforgivable idea of taking a break when they had work absolutely coming out of their ears. Bett tossed her hat on the ground; her halter top followed rapidly. The sneaky piece of manhood down there certainly looked as though he’d just emerged from a haystack, not at all like a once-very-serious law student. Well, he might still look halfway intelligent. If he took the blade of grass out of his mouth.