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They paused again to rip the wild, disorganized tangles of vines frouess how many times they’d done this over the years, ever hopeful they could keep the stuff at bay It was probably their chief project as ahoneysuckle out of a fence

After a while Cub asked, "You’re saying butterflies can go wrong in their heads?"

"No, it’s not that Other things go wrong, and they stay the same, so it confuses the, but then one Friday you did the sans, but instead of Food King you wound up at the auto parts store You’d know so out of whack in the whole town"

Cub appeared to take this in

"So they’re here by mistake," she said "And they can’t adjust to it Dr Byron said it’s like if we got persuaded to co the sheep We still couldn’t eat grass And ouldn’t have baby sheep, we’d have babies, and they’d be in trouble with the freezing rain and the coyotes" She’d embellished Ovid’s example, but felt it was valid

"What persuaded the butterflies off their track?" Cub asked

"Well, see, that’s what they’re wanting to figure out," she said "And Dr Byron’s not the only one wondering There’s s are e, basically"

"What’s that?"

She hesitated "Global war"

Cub snorted He kicked up a cloud of dusty frost "Al Gore can coeon’s line on the radio, every tih

"But what about all the rain we had last year? All those trees falling out of the ground, after they’d stood a hundred years The weather’s turned weird, Cub Did you ever see a year like we’ve had?"

They arrived at the botto the road, the last lap before reaching the house and barn A black pickup passed with a Ger in the bed Finally Cub said, "They don’t call it global weirding"

"I know But I think that’s actually the idea"

Cub shook his head "Weather is the Lord’s business"

She felt an exasperation that she kneould be of no use to this debate She let it rise and fall inside her, along ishful thoughts Every loss she’d ever borne had been declared the Lord’s business A stillborn child, a father dead in his prime

"So we just take what co whenever so and killed all the children ‘It’s part of God’s plan’ Noe give the God?"

Cub ," she said "Why would we believe Johnny Midgeon about soeon gives the weather report," Cub maintained, and Dellarobia saw her life pass before her eyes, contained in the se iance to the teacher

Theythe coht of hoave her no comfort Sooner or later he would co would have to happen Cub getting hurt, she couldn’t abide, but dae seemed so inevitable The sky was lower and darker than when they’d left the house an hour ago, and the air felt colder On the north-facing slopes the ground was still frosted white There had been talk of snow Broad-leaved weeds growing along the ditch stood wilted on their stes of surrender The short distance to their house was a gulf she dreaded to cross