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Show 22 carpet of fallen fruit, bird-pecked and withered and rotten in a spray of white crud like confectioner's sugar. I searched the trees but they were naked. I picked up a spoilt plum and considered what had happened, this once delicious fruit dry as jerky and gone to seed all for want of eating. I was angry at the Bishop for all the beautiful things in the yard, even Sister Hearthway, even myself. A few weeks ago we could have harvested these trees and all of us had more than we could eat. But the Bishop wouldn't let anyone eat the fruit, and now it was rained, which I thought the first righteous thing to happen all summer. |