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INKSPOTS: Tales of two gardens

... I especially remember when Don would plow the garden in the early spring. He plowed it using a pair of horses, one white, one brown – Sam and . . . um . . . I can’t remember the brown horse’s name. It was magical for a six-year-old to watch the steady gait of the horses with Don walking slowly behind them. He would wave at me every time they came to the end of a row and I would wave wildly back, calling out the horses’ names as they lumbered by. “Hi Sam – Hi…um…Brownie?” That’s it – his name was Brownie. How could I have forgotten? ...
Read all of Molly MacDonald's Inkspots in the Aug. 12 Advance.

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