Claygut suggested the smoked turkey breasts. Just one for five of us with the creamed corn. He gave us the corn when we drove out onto his place to watch the towers light up for the first time. Like a Christmas festival without tuned and synced radios. Where do we get the gelatin, she said, I mean what aisle. I have to tell you that we can hardly see you up there, she said. Claygut coughed a smile up. When’s the last time you mowed this place? I suppose your son mows. It’s so prevalent you don’t even notice it.