Seven Yellow Circles on a Plain Plate Saved My Family Home

Along the eastern boundary, where Raymond’s heavy flatbed trucks had parked during those tense weeks, the deep ruts in the turf were already beginning to heal. Wild rye and clover had started to creep over the gray mud, smoothing the jagged edges of the tire tracks.

I stopped near the old sycamore tree that marked the corner of the property line. From continue reading …