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

sliding the box onto the oilcloth table cover.

“I feel fine, Brandon,” Arthur rasped, his hand dropping to rub his left wrist.

“The doctor said to monitor you, Dad,” Brandon said, pulling a grey nylon cuff from the box and wrapping it tight around Arthur’s thick forearm.

“This is a digital monitor, the top brand they had at the pharmacy,” Brandon said.continue reading …