It was a warm west-Tennessee day. The humidity beaded on my brow, so I pulled the ball cap from my head and wiped away the sweat. There was a row of green pole beans laced with purple striations. I was in Stratham’s field.
“Rattlesnake beans,” he said. ”At least, that’s what mama used to call them on account of the fact that rattlesnakes shaded under the thick lower foliage. That, and when they dry on the vine..."
I have the distinct privilege of writing over at Ann Voskamp's place today. The Haines family feels blessed to know Ann as a good prayer, a timely word, and a gentle (but strong) soul. Would you join me, and continue reading there?