Perrin doesn't dig very deep in this collection of essays on Vermont farming, but he's perceptive enough and that feels just fine.
He writes with skill, warmth and a clever hand about becoming a farmer through trial and error, hard work and observing his more skilled and experienced neighbors. In "Country Codes" and "The Rural Immigration Law" he calls out the bad behavior of "people who move to the country" without dispensing with humor. "Lamb to Lamb Chop" gently, and with a twinge of melancholy, reveals a philosophy without verging on didactic. Essays like "A Fool's Guide to Splitting Wood" are how-tos of sorts that also reveal the patience and character of the farmer-author.
"In Winter in the Woods," tells of the time Perrin cut with his chainsaw into a maple on his tree lot only to soon discover its hollowed bottom was home to a family of deer mice (none of the mice was harmed). "The air seemed to be full of deer mice. And then the snow was." This essay was the real surprise here -- both in its beauty, expressiveness and quietude. "I came upon a small deeryard. There were six deer in it, and not wind to warn them. As I arrived on one side, they exploded out the other. But except for the warning snort the first deer that saw me gave, even that was a quiet scene. They might have been deer in a silent movie."