Meat is everywhere. ‘Tis the season to slaughter large animals – they won’t go bad if you leave them outside. Zhopar is making ground beef with the same hand-cranked contraption she makes jam with in the summer. Her entryway is clogged with ¾ of her cow, the one that was a pain to milk. They’re out of places to store meat. She doesn’t know what to do. My own freezer is full of meat, enough to last me for a month or two. One of the impressions I have of Kazakhstan is that it is a place with bones everywhere. There are more and larger bones out than usual – a cow’s shin bone and hoof were in the middle of the sidewalk a few days ago. I expected it to be there for years, but someone or something moved it – probably a dog. I just had horsemeat besbarmak at Dilda Apa’s house. She and her sister are sitting on the floor, making lumpy horse sausage from petal pink intestines.