![]() Biboon trembled and smiled when he saw the pukkons. He could still keep the fire going, and insisted on living alone. He wore a creamy long-john shirt, brown work pants, moccasins so worn they looked like part of his feet. Laughing, he sometimes called himself an old pinto. With age, his skin had lightened in patches. His father saw him coming along the edge of the field and stepped out of his doorway, stooped, leaning on his stick. He filled his hat, then his jacket, with the prickly green nuts. But along the edges of the grass road there were bushes loaded with pukkons. With a lot of boiling, you could eat them. ![]() ![]() ![]() Under the stands of oak, heaps of acorns lay in the grass. But there was only sere grass, rose hips, seed heads of black-eyed Susans, red willow. Thomas carried his rifle on the trail to his father’s house. She lives in Minnesota with her daughters and is the owner of Birchbark Books, a small independent bookstore. Her fiction has won the National Book Award, the National Book Critics Circle Award (twice), the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, and has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. Louise Erdrich is the author of sixteen novels, volumes of poetry, children's books, and a memoir of early motherhood. ![]() The follow is an excerpt from Louise Erdich's new novel, The Night Watchman. ![]()
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