”Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life...

     ”Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included Nell. I carried Christian with me as I gathered sticks, piling branches into the bundles I would carry on my back to the village that night.

      Nell’s secret thyme beds and her mint were deep in the woods, out by the chuckling stream that disappeared underground. She danced in the sunlight and the shade.”

 

— from the forthcoming novel SINFUL FOLK