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.