Today the three pails hang retired in the back yard, by the old syrup mill. I cannot begin to tell, the times they were filled, with Georgia Red cane juice, blueberries, scuppernong grapes and every kind of vegetable. Every now and then, for old times sake, I will bring down a pail and fill it with water and carry it about from plant to plant, as if there was still some miracle grow my father left in the old pails.
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