“We’ve got twenty minutes before we head in for lemonade,” I said.

Chloe came down the dirt path from the porch with her notebook and a pencil.

She sat on the flat stone beside the well pipe and turned to a clean page.

“The light’s really bright on the orange leaves right here,” she said.

“That’s the afternoon sun coming over the mountains,” I told her.

“Dad said this whole grove used to belong to a family that lived here fifty years ago,” Chloe said.

“Now it belongs to our family,” I said.