Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

I said, though I knew the creek pastures had been dry since August.

When Arthur’s sedan pulled back into the gravel driveway at half past five, I met him near the office steps.

“Arthur, the honey in the holding tank is too light,” I said, my thumb working against my palm again. “And Evelyn says the batch we bottled last week does not taste right.”

Arthur continue reading …