Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

Grandma?” David asked, looking over the neat rows of amber.

“We are,” I said.

I reached into the pocket of my cardigan and pulled out the small tin of tasting spoons.

The sun was just hitting the tops of the sweet gum trees behind the market square, turning the mist to gold.

“Here comes the first of the crowd,” Evelyn whispered, pointing toward the gravel continue reading …