foggy August morn
wood piled, coal shed filled
a damp chill breeze
sun rising higher
picking sweet corn for the table
gentle breeze , so welcome
in the rustling of leaves
a whisper, distant whisper
gently reminds me
mayo , tomatoes , bread....YUM
It frosted...actually froze, that was supposed to happen, it was supposed to rain. But the skys cleared and so the days of picking my ow...
