By John Thomas Tuft

Old Leo makes his way up the church steps, slowly, but with practiced, patient purpose. He is known around the small town as the “bee man” because of the hives he carefully nurtures out back of Johnson’s Orchards, but in all of his eighty-three years this is the first time he has ever questioned the ways of Mother nature and the providence of the good Lord. Both at the same time, and with equal vehemence. He opens the door and steps inside the cool sanctuary with the vaulted ceiling and polished pews for the perishables.