They Doubted His Pine Trees Until Nineteen Eighty Eight Proved Him Right

looked at the trees. The same trees they had laughed at. The same trees that had held the land when the summer of 1988 came like judgment.

“No,” he said softly. “I just knew enough to begin.”

The wind crossed Buck Harlan’s old pasture, now lined with pines of its own. It crossed the road, moved through Miller’s Bend, and reached the Whitaker place with continue reading …