I put them one by one on individual trees.
I had taken my butter to Ohio with me when I left two months ago. I am surprised to find a half stick to fry the eggs in. I am clipping locust legs to tall trees around the mouth of Mosquito creek. Uncle Luther is on his knees there panning for gold. He is paused in a slanting pillar of sun. He has found more than he had expected. Years later he will die in a house trailer in Pennsylvania taking with him his secret of the gold in Mosquito creek.