Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

a dead, blackened marigold head with my brass shears and let it drop into the canvas bucket at my feet.

“The timber is old growth, Nicole,” I said, speaking slowly. “It only needs a coat of sealant.”

“It is an eyesore, and it ruins the line of the yard,” she said, her voice rising to that rapid, high-pitched register she used when she was trying to convince continue reading …