Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

way.”

The shadows were long and blue by the time I walked back to the bottling shed.

The air inside still smelled of warm beeswax and pine shavings, a clean, dry scent that had lived in these walls for forty years.

Our old brass thermometer caught the last rays of the sun where it hung on the wooden bottling tank.

I reached out and touched continue reading …