Buster smiled. Sometimes guarding the orchard meant letting joy misstep— and gently helping it try again.

Buster had never been to a Return Counter before. Especially not one in the back garden of a Trader Joe’s. But there it was—carved into a rosemary bush and staffed by a porcupine in a smock that said “Hilde.”

The recipe seemed innocuous enough: chicken, blackberries, and a whole lot of peppers. "Perfect," I thought, "a little kick, a little sweet." Grandma knew what's up, and she clearly didn't want Betty to know.

It's all about doing the daily dew

Summer Love on the wings of Lady Bugs

Whispered soft on sunlit breeze, Butterfly kisses drift with ease, Summer's gentle, fleeting art, Touching hearts and leaving sparks In blooms they dance, so light and free, A fleeting tickle from me to thee, Warm days fade, but memory bliss, Linger with sweet summer's butterfly kiss