Sunrise. A summer’s day, 1807. A clearing in the wood in Massachussetts. An oxcart filled with stones waits next to a seriously incomplete stone wall. A man and his son. HENRY (from off). Here’s where I left the cart. Henry Lane, a 44 year old farmer, and his son Ethan, 15, enter in work clothes. ETHAN. Sure are a lot of black flies this morning. HENRY (swatting loudly once). Rained last night. There are always more flies after the rain. ETHAN. Should we wait till later, so they don’t bite? HENRY. It’s get bit now or work in the sun later. Besides, we have work to do this afternoon. Let’s get started now, while the sun is still low in the sky. They approach the old ox-cart and each lift a stone. They bring the stones over, one by one, to the wall, and start laying a bottom layer for a new section. ETHAN (without stopping). Pa? HENRY. Yes. Ethan? ETHAN. Where do all these stones come from? HENRY. The earth. ETHAN. I know, but how do you think they got here? HENRY. Well, when I was a boy, there weren’t many stones. There were boulders, here and there, but the soil was smooth. But, I suppose, as the trees got chopped down for firewood and the forests grew thin, the soil grew thinner too. And with every snowfall, more stones would appear in the springtime. A damned invasion of stones. You’ve seen it

yourself; in the middle of the fields, in ma’s garden, the stones surface like sprouts or fester underground like bulbs. ETHAN. But why? HENRY. I don’t know—that’s nature’s doing. My doing is to make walls. They continue work on the wall, carefully adding stones and testing sturdiness. Henry loudly slaps his neck, to kill a black fly. Ethan drops his rock. ETHAN. You startled me. HENRY. Damned flies. Ethan picks up the stone and places it carefully on the wall. They work. ETHAN. Pa? HENRY. Yes son. ETHAN. Can we rest a while? HENRY (indicating the oxcart). When this is done. ETHAN. What’s the hurry, Pa? Why’s it got to be built so fast? HENRY (laying down another stone). Well, suppose a pack of wild Indians were to come ‘round the farm tonight; wouldn’t you then be thankful for the wall? ETHAN. We’ve never so much as seen a wild Indian though. HENRY. Then a wolf, or a bear. ETHAN. You’ve got the gun. Besides, wolf or a bear comes along, they’d climb over the wall or go around it. HENRY (they’ve stopped working by now). Is that so? ETHAN. Seems likely to me. Anyhow, we’re not gonna finish the wall today, Pa. HENRY. I know that. I’ve been building this wall two and a half years, when I have the time. I don’t expect to finish it today, but I expect to finish it someday.

ETHAN. Is this about clearing the stones or building the wall? HENRY (as he starts working again). I want to build a wall. Get to work. Ethan picks up a stone. Henry loudly slaps his neck again, and Ethan drops the stone. ETHAN. Do you have to do that, pa? You’re startling me. HENRY. Who’s side you on, the flies or mine? ETHAN. What’d the flies ever do to you? HENRY. Bit me. ETHAN. Just let them be. It’s natural. HENRY. Let them be? ETHAN. Swat them gently, don’t kill them. HENRY. Ethan, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever— He feels a fly on his face, raises his hand, and quickly slaps it. HENRY. Heard. ETHAN (joking, kind of). Whatever happened to “turn the other cheek”? HENRY. Don’t think that applies to insects, son. Besides, what do you care? ETHAN. I don’t know, Pa, I’ve been thinking of nature recently. HENRY. Nature? ETHAN. It’s like water wearing down a rock… no matter how long it takes, nature will chip away at our designs until there’s nothing left. Lay a stone wall, Pa, and more stones will just come up in the winter. Kill a fly, and another will buzz by you. HENRY. Yes, but the wall will be here. ETHAN. How do you know nothing will knock it over?

HENRY. That’s why we build it thick and sturdy. ETHAN. But why do you want the wall in the first place? To keep Indians out? HENRY. To mark our land. To say to the world that I live here. ETHAN. Why not write a sign then? HENRY. Ethan, we are finishing this wall whether you like it or not. ETHAN. You’ve already spent two and a half years building this thing; do you want to spend another three, four on a fool’s errand? HENRY. Is that what you think of me? ETHAN. I think that trying to bend nature to one’s will is folly. HENRY. What do you know about it? What do you know about nature? ETHAN. I— HENRY. Would you leave the farm fallow and starve? Is that the natural way? ETHAN. No. HENRY. Do you remember burying your brother in the ground? Do you remember how the doctors tried to save him, but he fell away from us? Do you remember how small his hands were? I might not be a smart man, but I know that nature is out to kill us, and that as long as black flies will bite I will slap. Do you know what I mean? ETHAN. But you’re better than nature, aren’t you? You’re more than nature. HENRY. That’s why I build. It might be useless, but I will draw a line through the Earth. I will leave my mark. Henry goes back to work. Ethan watches him.