Lauren Judith Barclay

The End of Cherry Season

The End of Cherry Season I was scribbling furiously in my small black notebook. I was sitting in our beat-up barn on a stack of haybales. The horses grunted softly next to me and the air was filled with the smell of fresh hay, packed dirt, and oats that were in the trough next to me. The hay formed a cushion around me, protecting me from the early spring chill along with my tough canvas work jacket.