I can see that the oaks, once part of ancient hedgerows — wavy lines of hawthorn, oak and dog rose — have been set adrift again, floating islands on a furrowed sea.
‘One day Theo handed me a roll of electric fencing. “Hold this for a second, Nels,” he said. “You won’t connect it, will you?” I ask. “Nah, course not,” he says.’
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