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

taken forty years to perfect. He clipped a deep purple fruit, leaving a short green stem on the crown, and laid it gently on the newspaper lining the bottom of the box. His breath came through his nose, quiet and even, without the dry rattle that had frightened me during the August heat.

I watched the way his boots pressed into the dry dirt of the aisle,continue reading …