GG Bürki

Laura Bürki summers a herd on the high pastures and judges every vat by hand, because the day the curd is right is neither negotiable nor predictable, which she regards as the whole education. She took the alp on from her father-in-law. He still tests the produce, at length, with opinions; she still plays him every Wednesday, and in eleven years he has not taken a single one off her. Neither of them has mentioned it out loud. He arrives, they play, he goes home, and the following week the criticism resumes, and she considers the arrangement close to perfect. Her own children think it unkind. She points out that nobody has suggested he stop coming.