If you had asked me even a year before could I see myself living in the American South, I would have shaken my head.

If you had asked me even a year before could I see myself living in the American South, I would have shaken my head.
I met Shirley and Ken Kenneally in 1981 when Cathi invited me to their home for a party. Although the house was set a good way in from the street, I could hear the music from the sidewalk.
This is my first post on our newly-migrated blog, using a new WordPress Theme and photos from our new camera. I step onto our new blogging platform, pale knuckled from a week of standing in the wings while our good friend, Steph, of Warm Reptile Designs, worked her behind-the-scenes magic. Should you need a web […]
I’m about to hand Arlo a flat of ginger off our back porch, when we hear the arrival of a FedEx truck. I bounce over in my shop towel mask and stand expectantly on the wet lawn. Bob told me it was coming, so I know what the driver is fishing for back there in […]
Nineteen days into voluntary isolation, I reach to the back of the freezer for some ginger and discover two bags of sweet pepper, one green, and one red. It’s Christmas! Like many trapped in this stagnant lull, I have put on some weight. The more I focus on making do, the faster I eat down […]