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It’s Sunday, so Mass, lunch, and daytime prayer are earlier in the day, and aside from some of the farming and brewing must-dos, there is no work in the afternoon. We are allowed to pray, read, walk, meditate, visit—or take our ex-boyfriend up to the barley fields to show him where the barley for the beer is grown. I tell him about a grant from K-State to grow a more beer-friendly strain of barley while the hot wind whips my habit around my legs and he takes notes in his notebook, and then we go down to the barn, where I introduce him to Father Nathaniel and Brother Amos, our lead farmers.
And then on to the printing room, and the bottling room. And then the taproom, which is closed to the public today, and so we have the entire echoing space to ourselves. I pour him a little flig
