RURAL WRITES

| RURAL WRITES | G.A. SCHEINOHA CONTRIBUTOR Along about the time when school started, leastwise as September wore on, our garden, a sizable patch of earth sprouted potatoes. The bus no more than stopped at driveway’s end than there Dad was in his bib overalls and straw hat, in the thick of digging them up, pitchfork planted cautiously to avoid piercing the russets. Had scarcely deboarded