The Fence That Measures the Sky

The village very nearly shoved my inn into the ravine because old Yukhym the carpenter drank too much yesterday and squinted his left eye today. It all began when he looked at his new fence and announced: the sky is heavier on the left, and that's why the earth is sinking. People would have laughed, but Yukhym spoke with such iron certainty that even the rooster began to have doubts.

His logic was simple. If the sky presses from the left, the weight has to be shifted to the right side, otherwise we'd all roll into the ravine. The pigs were the first to catch it. Yukhym gathered the men, and they set about carrying the heaviest hogs to a pen on the edge of the village. Baba Yavdokha shouted from her window: "Yukhym, where are you dragging my Brovko?" And Yukhym, sternly: "Quiet, woman! Or do you want Brovko to end up in the ravine?"

By noon the village had gone mad. Parfenii the blacksmith was hauling his anvil, sparks flying. Luka the deacon rolled along a barrel of pickled cabbage, assuring everyone that cabbage in brine is heavier than fresh, because it has already lived through fermentation and gathered life experience. Children ran about with stones, shouting that they were holding up the sky. And Yukhym walked around shaking his head: "Not enough! The sky is still pressing."

Then my turn came - Yukhym walks into my place. Looks at the oak table, at the barrels, at the stove, and says: "Ivan, gather your guests. We're going to shove your inn over to the right side. It's our last hope, otherwise by evening the sun will fall behind the fence." The men had already braced the walls with their shoulders, the women had begun carrying out the jugs, calling down disaster on themselves in the shape of my cook Paraska.

And Yukhym squinted his eye to check the angle of tilt. The inn was saved by his wife Nastia. She flew in and slapped him straight off: "Open your left eye, you fool! You've had a draft in your face since yesterday, that's why you hold your head crooked!" Yukhym opened his eye, turned to the fence, looks at it - the thing stands perfectly straight.

The men let go of my walls. The hogs were brought back. And Yukhym stood a long while yet in front of the fence, gazing at the sky as if waiting for it to apologize first. And I'll tell you this: the real trouble isn't that somebody says a foolish thing. The trouble comes when he says it in such a voice that people start seeing for themselves the crooked sky, the slanting fence, and the hog that simply must be moved.