Sometimes, when harvesting sweet potatoes, I miss one.
Usually, they rot through the winter.
Sometimes, they don’t.

If only they tasted nice at this size.
Thankfully, there were first-year neighbors underground.

Sometimes, when harvesting sweet potatoes, I miss one.
Usually, they rot through the winter.
Sometimes, they don’t.

If only they tasted nice at this size.
Thankfully, there were first-year neighbors underground.

Sometimes we’re caught off guard and knocked flat.

Sometimes a storm is just what you need.

Sometimes you aren’t prepared for unprecedented growth.

Sometimes you are.

And sometimes, no matter how hard you fight it, passions persist.
