Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

the light amber liquid.

It did not linger.

It simply glided to the top as if it were passing through plain tap water.

By two o’clock, the afternoon heat was rising off the gravel driveway, and I was sitting on Evelyn’s screened porch with a glass of unsweetened iced tea.

The air was thick and still, carrying the faint, dusty scent of dry pine needles from continue reading …