In 2010, Tess Taylor was awarded the Amy Clampitt Fellowship. Her prize:
A rent-free year in a cottage in the Berkshires, where she could finish
a first book. But Taylor--outside the city for the first time in nearly
a decade, and trying to conceive her first child--found herself alone.
To break up her days, she began to intern on a small farm, planting
leeks, turning compost, and weeding kale. In this calendric cycle of 28
poems, Taylor describes the work of this year, considering what
attending to vegetables on a small field might achieve now. Against a
backdrop of drone strikes, "methamphetamine and global economic crisis,"
these poems embark on a rich exploration of season, self, food, and
place. Threading through the farm poets--Hesiod, Virgil, and John
Clare--Taylor revisits the project of small scale farming at the
troubled beginning of the 21st century. In poems full of bounty, loss
and the mysteries of the body, Taylor offers a rich, severe, memorable
meditation about what it means to try to connect our bodies and our time
on earth.