A Doubter's Almanac
“Stillwater, which rented its excess acreage to the local farmers, seemed to be about the only business in that corner of rural New Hampshire that was turning a profit—although I doubt it depended on the crops. As a numbers guy, in fact, I’d admired the fiduciary spirit of the place from the moment I’d first laid eyes on its costs sheet. The local agriculture seemed to be part of the treatment philosophy as well, providing a serene but eminently practical view for the patients. I must say that I... found it eminently and serenely therapeutic myself. Especially on those cool north-latitude afternoons when I was allowed to take an hour’s walk with my wife.In the distance, one of the farmers was driving a dark green tractor through the rows, a churn of dust following. I could see clods flying up behind the tilling blades, like mice jumping up from the fields. I was six days into my stay, and I realized I still felt like one of those mice.Audra was here for the weekend. She’d been at a group meeting with me in the morning, then at a therapy session with me in the afternoon, and she’d be at another group meeting that evening with the other spouses, followed by the nightly speaker.MoreLess
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