the blueberry bushes were arranged in long rows up and down the hill protected by chicken-wire fence and blocky posts planted every 60 feet. each one measured out by the steps of the farm hand who limps the least just a few years back. a few posts lilting now, after the barrages of rain and the consequential mudslides. at least none of the turkeys got bogged down by the mud.
they are happily unburying the fallen berries form under the new mud. you can hear the females purring from just outside the barn house at the bottom of the hill.
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