A Greenhouse in Late September and the Harvest That Saved My Husband

smart,” Arthur said, his voice raspy. “He always wanted things to happen fast. He did not have the patience for the seeds to sprout.”

“He was always looking at his watch,” I said. “Even when he was twelve.”

Arthur stopped by the end of the row, leaning his weight against the wooden frame of the seedling bench. His hand went to his left wrist, his fingers continue reading …