Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

morning, the dew still heavy on the wild mustard grass that grew along the foundation. David carried a long steel crowbar he had taken from the back of his truck, its rusted claw wedged tightly under the heavy iron padlock on the latch.

“This is going to make some noise, Grandmother,” he said, pulling his blue baseball cap lower over his eyes to shield continue reading …