By Ryu Ando
There were spots on the leaves of the mikan trees in the grove behind our house. My wife, silent, cut off the head of a red snapper while I told her this. Blood soaked into the cutting board’s criss-cross cuts and nicks. She just shook her head. Fish scales clung to her wet hands. She flicked them away absently with her fingers.
The next day the spots had grown larger, spreading across more leaves and fruit. By the end of the week, I cut down five trees and burned them to their stumps. The container holding the petrol was lighter but still strained my shoulder.
“It’s done,” I said to my wife.[Read more…] about The Orange Grove