I’ve known Susan Medill Barton for thirty years. I met her through her daughter, Jen, my high school pal. Over the years, Susan has taught me lots about what’s lovely in life, from witty conversation to sardines with Tabasco on crackers to champagne before noon. I’ve always admired her taste and elegance, but also her curiosity about the world, her passion for learning both the practical and eclectic (when I was in high school, she took Latin with my peers), and her sense of humor (I asked Susan how she wanted to be described here, and she said, “I’m an old lady who likes figs"). A gardener and loyal supporter of the arts, she always seems game for something creative, so I thought she’d be a great person to read a poem. She chose what I consider the most challenging poem to read aloud in the book, and like so many things she does, she accomplishes it with enviable aplomb. Susan lives in Janesville, Wisconsin with her dashing husband, Larry.

If you’d like to know more about the odd relationship between figs and wasps, you can check out information here. As Susan puts it: “There is a certain satisfaction in crunching a wasp.”

(Want to read along? You can order a copy of Local Extinctions here or here or here or from your local independent bookstore, such as Mac's Backs in Cleveland.)