Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

the pump house, right where the shadows of the pecan trees were beginning to shrink in the high morning sun.

I stood by the wooden table with David and Evelyn, the wicker basket resting between my feet. The dry grass under our boots felt brittle after three weeks without a decent rain.

“He looks thinner than he did at the spring association meeting,” continue reading …