Pine trees, red clay

And a biscuit tin

The highway that ran to the farm was bordered by pines, mostly. Ditches of red clay with swaths of loose gravel. We’d drive through a few small towns where the speed limit dropped from 55 to 45 to 35 and I’d stare at a downtown with a boutique, a pharmacy, maybe a movie store, and a few shuttered buildings. Past a Kroger or Piggly Wiggly or both, and a …