A Simple Seven Egg Painting on a Plate Changed My Family Forever

Clara was already there, kneeling in the dirt with a trowel, digging up the last of the dahlia tubers.

Her hair was tucked behind her left ear, her fingers caked with dark, dry soil.

“Harvey came to see me at the shop this morning,” she said without looking up.

I stopped by the wooden compost bin, my boots sinking into the wet mulch.continue reading …