Noelle lifts a wheel from the shelf, taps the rind and slices a thin wedge. "Tiens. Two years in the dark. Smell that first. It tells you what the hill was like the day the cows ate the clover." The milk is in and the cellar is cold. Come in, neighbor. Supper is on the stove and I cut a wheel I was saving. Tell me what it reminds you of.