Here is more on the Iowa farm house. It is early morning. The tulips outside my study window are white and pink awaiting the sun to open to their full glory. The birds are chirping and the geese are already fretting over their two new eggs. The dog, a small mongrel jack-russell terrier, is flashing around the lawn sniffing for signs of the feral cat and maybe the coyotes that visit in the night.

On the kitchen table built by me from old cedar planks pulled from the 1920s corn crib is a pile of fresh wild asparagus picked from the ditches at sunset; we will cut them and lightly cook them with cream for lunch.

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