Seven Yellow Circles on a Plain Plate Saved My Family Home

smelled of damp flour and sweet fruit.

Clara stood by the dry sink, her fingers working a lump of lard into the pastry flour in my blue ceramic mixing bowl.

I peeled the third Northern Spy apple, keeping the paring knife steady despite the ache in my thumb joint. Outside, the damp oak leaves clung to the gravel driveway, thick and heavy.

“He is your nephew,continue reading …