Dallas Lore Sharp

“The cloggit busy humming bees, That never think to drone, On flowers and flourishes of trees Collect their liquor brown.”They also gather pollen. Every spring the cucumber man buys my spare bees. His cucumber houses, long glass houses under t [...]

The high fog never lifted from the Santa Ynez peaks all day. Half way down the gray-green slopes it hung, and spreading away to the sea, rolled a billowy, smoky roof above us. Through the ceiling into our low-posted room an occasional buzzard would d [...]