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119 Gathering Browse in Winter Archibald Magruder, 1789 Hay gone, I go to the woods to gather browse, small limbs with leaves entombed in buds for our mild cow. Slippery elm is best with its gummy fragrant juice that Cassie sometimes boils for croup and cold congestion. White elm and pig nut will also do. The woods are quiet with cold. I break brittle limbs, startling up crows that pull and tug at the carcass of a rabbit frozen tightly to the ground. Cold is an inertia that binds the rabbit to earth, which I must break by moving. I smell elm on my arms, its odor rich in the dry air. 120 My vegetable self, imprisoned like its leaves, pushes numbly against my body’s bud. ...

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