We in Blue Grass are in the time of thistle, teasel and burdock. America, too, is stuck in the weeds. Wherever I turn, I see their hostile takeover...
Lifestyle
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Most rural communities have weeklies devoted to classified ads. You can learn a lot from what’s wanted and what’s not.
I’ve been digging rocks out of my forest roads since before July 4th. I do this for several reasons, some of which even seem semi-rational.
If I were a timber rattlesnake, I would hang out just where I saw a big one three weeks ago in the woods on Devil’s Backbone.
Twenty-seven years ago on Father’s Day, I spent a sunny couple of hours digging a grave on top of a pretty West Virginia hill.
Among the many character flaws Americans scold themselves for these days, our lack of savings is, perhaps, the most understandable.
The day after Memorial Day, I got out a little box that I keep in my sock drawer. Inside are my father’s two WWII shoulder sleeve insignias.
It’s about 8 p.m. It is unseasonably cold in the Virginia mountains. I am sweating. I am also unseasonably cold…and cranky to boot.
I spent Saturday rubbing my own nose in my own farm failures. Regular abrasion sessions of this sort have kept my nose small and orderly over the...
I had been dreading this past weekend for a month. The country mouse from Blue Grass, population about 50, was headed to the City of New York. For an...