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Weekly Contest #334
Blueberry season was good and over, and now it was cranberry season—a time of year marked by shortening days and cold. I was six years old, living with my grandmother in a very small town, in a house that backed onto a dense forest of fir and spruce. I secretly loved to go into the woods at this time of year. The sweet scent of conifers mixed with fallen autumn leaves on the forest floor was almost intoxicating to me.Nan had been trying to get a start on the dark fruit cakes for Christmas, and I was bored—and in her way. So, with admonitions...
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