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Wisteria hangs in great dollops from the treetops, the faint purple drapery escorting me to Aiken and Camden, Bethune and Rockingham, its aerial artistry choking the tallest pines. Driving through the Carolinas on a lavender road I’ve navigated for years…

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While You Sleep

Still hunkered at my desk, as if to stop the night sky brightening, the Leylands lifting from their winter canvas, pastures, singed with frost. Night is like a holiday, I can do anything I want with it— unlike the day’s…

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