At the foot of the field the path descends a low bluff to the river. The old man has fashioned a plank footbridge from scavenged boards and beams. Crooked handrails of peeled aspen run waist-high along both sides of the bridge, testimony to Jacobo’s lack of confidence in his arthritic knees and to the energy with which he shapes the land to meet his needs. There are other bridges in the village, but none with handrails.
