Historical fiction · Set in
When the crane came
The Lorain crane arrived this fall and made our little patch of field look smaller than it had any right to. I brought coffee out to the men. By the time I got back to the house, the cups were empty and the saucers had a good coating of dirt.
One stone kept slipping back into the cut. The operator took another bite at it and the whole bank seemed to shiver. When the stone finally rolled out, somebody waved his cap. It landed in the mud, which put an end to the cheering.
The contractor’s statement came to $897. I looked at that number a good while at the kitchen table. Then I thought of the crops in a dry spell and went back out to see how much water had collected in the bottom.