In your extended absence， you permit me

    use of earth， anticipating

    some return on investment. I must report

    failure in my assignment， principally

    regarding the tomato plants.

    I think I should not be encouraged to grow

    tomatoes. Or， if I am， you should withhold¹

    the heavy rains， the cold nights that come

    so often here， while other regions get

    twelve weeks of summer. All this

    belongs to you： on the other hand，

    I planted the seeds， I watched the first shoots

    like wings tearing the soil， and it was my heart

    broken by the blight²， the black spot so quickly

    multiplying in the rows. I doubt

    you have a heart， in our understanding of

    that term. You who do not discriminate³

    between the dead and the living， who are， in consequence，

    immune to foreshadowing， you may not know

    how much terror we bear， the spotted⁴ leaf，

    the red leaves of the maple⁵ falling

    even in August， in early darkness： I am responsible

    for these vines.