Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

air remained cold and smelled of old grease. The gray timber walls were green with moss near the foundation, and the double doors hung crooked on their rusted hinges.

“The ladder’s sturdy enough,” David said, testing the pine rungs with his hand. “But you let me go up first, Mabel. It’s dark up there.”

I watched him climb, his engineering boots disappearing continue reading …