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“I was impatient and I didn’t understand how seeds and harvesttime work. I thought as soon as I planted the seeds, I’d see growth the next day. But sometimes we wouldn’t see any sign of growth for ten days, or seventy, or even three years.”

At harvesttime, there would be parties outside, under the moon.

At harvesttime, busloads of young people looking for seasonal work trimming buds would descend on Garberville, where they were vulnerable to exploitation.

Between cooking and cleaning and gardening and sewing and knitting and working the fields at harvesttime and helping out at the chopping bees and the raising bees and tending to her sheep and shearing ’em and gathering wool and carding it and spinning it, Ma had been lazy and was slacking off on her school lessons and they waren’t sticking particular good.

“This is September. Harvesttime would be wrapping up soon and then there would be nothing till next spring. Most of the crop goes to the owner anyway.”