All Russia is our orchard. — Anton Chekhov
PHILADELPHIA — At the end of "The Cherry Orchard," Chekhov’s last and perhaps greatest play, the sound of axes can be heard rippling across the stage as the orchard of a great estate, emblematic of the past, is cut down in a tattoo of violent loss.
A world is dying with every blow of an ax, and what will take its place is solely a matter of speculation.
