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It was a tree just like any other growing in the mountains of Southeast Kentucky, but it glowed like gold in the fall mountain sunshine. I watched Aunt Bett use her pocket knife to cut a little twig from it. She rarely used her pocket knife. Usually, she just broke off what she needed. Then she began to chew on the cut end of the twig, and I began to pay attention.
May 8, 2014 1:31 PM CST
|That made the ending, Sharon. Loved the whole tale and the information about the black birch. Thank you for sharing in such a lively way.|
May 8, 2014 2:19 PM CST
|And thank you for reading, lovesblooms.|