He was using the massive thirty cup coffee urn that Mom used to bring to community events rather than his small four cup pot.

“What is the big coffee pot for?” I asked.

“People,” he replied simply, wearing his worn blue work shirt before grabbing his bucket and heading out into the garden.

PART 5

Saturday morning arrived shrouded in heavy mist.

A thick, cool valley fog rolled over the fields, obscuring the far end of the garden, the wooden fence, and the tall corn stalks.

I stood on the back porch sipping warm coffee, and at five minutes to six, headlights appeared through the foggy gloom.