They Doubted His Pine Trees Until Nineteen Eighty Eight Proved Him Right

you carry my choice.”

She looked toward the north pasture. The oldest pines had reached her waist by then, thickening, dark green, strange against the golden grass. “Are you sure they’ll help?”

Tom wanted to give her certainty. A father should. But land did not care about certainty. Weather did not care about hope. Trees took time, and time was the one continue reading …