Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

the woods behind her pasture.

Evelyn, my closest friend, wrapped her knitted green shawl tightly around her shoulders despite the October warmth.

She sat very straight in her wicker chair, her gaze fixed on the empty birdfeeder hanging from the eave.

“Frank had a terrible night, Mabel,” she said, her voice dropping into that quiet, precise schoolteacher continue reading …