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After we rested on the riverbank, we picked a reens: dandelions and shepherd’s purse, ra nettles too, but you have to get the and tender and boil the heck out of the edible because our larder is nearly empty and so is the root cellar In addition to four jars of last year’s canned green beans and a few carrots, there are a couple dozen seed potatoes that are starting to sprout, but we’ll need thearden is ready to pick

Last e had rabbit for two days, kind of stringy but not too bad in a soup I’m amazed at how many critters I’ve eaten this year: rabbitcoonpossumduckdeersquirrelwild turkey Since Moonlight was bred and is no longer producing aood day

This lack of et I still have Mrs Vanderhoff’s ruby ring and Katherine Mac-Intosh’s golden moon pin, hidden on the top of the closet in an old red Calu powder tin I promised myself I wouldn’t sell them unless I was truly desperate, and apparently I’o? Who would have cash money to pay me?

As we explore the riverbank, Bitsy and I are surprised to find three tents set up under the trees From the looks of the first two, constructed with tarps tied over tell-used old pickup trucks, the occupants are on the road with all their household goods The third, a lean-to, is set about a quarter mile downstream where an older ive him a wide berth and stop around the bend Then, while Bitsy readies our fishing poles, I tie Star where she can walk in the shallows and graze in the grass

"Here, Patience, watch , she threads an earthworm onto the barbedout ofI have fished before, but it was years and years ago, when I was a girl, and Papa always baited the hooks forandthe bank slowly in the shade Then she handsout of the garden and heads farther upstreah rubber boots

"Meet ht up," Bitsy instructs "Good luck"

I watch as she expertly flicks her line and realize how dependent I’ve become on her Once I was her benefactor Now she’sa bite Finally I plunk le the pole, letin the current It’s a sunny day hite puffy clouds drifting overfor animals in the sky There’s a horsethere’s a chickenthere’s the face of a hogWild pink roses crawl along the edge of the woods, and their sweet scent fills the air

Myat , so I jerk the pole, but the line pulls back Holy cow! I’ve got one! I stagger to my feet and walk backward into the brush

"Bitsy!" I call, but she’s a mile away I whip the homemadepole back and forth, back and forth, until a flash of silver hits the air Oh osh! It’s still alive For so silver-and-brown-spotted fish lies on the bank, with its gills opening and closing, drowning in the air

Now II pick up a rock and smash the trout in the head until it lies still; then, to keep the flies off, I dangle it back in the river, still on the line

"Some people just throw them alive in a bucket of cold water Keeps them fresh," a low voice comments from behind me When I twist around, I find one of thein the brush with a string of his own fish over his shoulder