plucky parsley I was not absolutely sure I believed Chef David when he came inside from his run earlier today and announced last year's Italian parsley appears to have overwintered in our frozen Vermont soil, and is coming back. I'll be damned, I said a little later on in the afternoon when I crouched down … Continue reading Sunday Photo Essay: Hope Springs Eternal
Generations
Biscuit Baking, Redux
For the last couple of weeks I've been hemming and hawing over a post that refuses to be written. When that happens, I've learned the best strategy is to step away from it and come back later, or not at all. Yesterday morning, though, I published a private post for one particular young man who … Continue reading Biscuit Baking, Redux
Travel Story: We Feed Goats in Chattanooga
Goats were not specifically why we traveled to Chattanooga (we got there by way of Christiansburg, VA, thence to Knoxville before finally arriving), but the goats proved an entertaining and comical diversion one sultry evening on Missionary Ridge; they also made splendid subjects to photograph. I’ll get to them. A theme that popped up again … Continue reading Travel Story: We Feed Goats in Chattanooga
Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
/mō·jō/ noun 1. a magic charm, talisman, or spell. Heck, I’d add super power to that list. Why not? Somebody inadvertently rattled my cage not long ago when they suggested blogging is obsolete. I saw it float by in a comment thread on one of my social groups on the web. (I believe the precise words were, … Continue reading Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
Family Story: It’s in the DNA
‘We don’t hide crazy,’ I said. ‘We put it on the porch and let it entertain the neighbors.’—Nick Wilgus Surely you’ve seen some iteration of that quote in the context of how ‘crazy’ is handled way down South. The gist is, any self-respecting Southern family is not ashamed of the crazy aunt or the second … Continue reading Family Story: It’s in the DNA
You Can’t Sit With Us: Reflections on a “Mean Girls” National Policy
Find someone who looks like they need a friend, and be that person's friend: it was my mama's mandate to me on the first day of third grade, a tall order for an eight-year-old kid at a new school, but the outcome for me that year was a tight friendship with a sweet, third-generation Scot. It … Continue reading You Can’t Sit With Us: Reflections on a “Mean Girls” National Policy
Hope and the Human Spirit: Postcard from Home
Knoxville’s downtown Market Square once held an imposing masonry building that served as a center for thriving commerce, including a beloved farmer’s market that purveyed meat, poultry, dairy, produce, and flowers trucked in from the city’s rural outskirts. A 14-year-old boy set it ablaze lighting a cigarette in the late 1950s, goes the story, gutting … Continue reading Hope and the Human Spirit: Postcard from Home
On Patience: How Long is Forever?
Sometimes, just one second.—Lewis Carroll The great, big exciting thing that was happening yesterday, the colossal event that was to be the subject of this post (and which many friends and readers have already surmised from various spoilers I’ve sprinkled in the cybersphere), is on hold ‘til this coming Friday. At least, we hope it … Continue reading On Patience: How Long is Forever?
Home is where Your Heart Is: I Heart Vermont, Kinda
It just doesn’t always heart me back. The man rapping his knuckles against my car window had no teeth. He wore unbuttoned flannel over a filthy shirt and baggy trousers, which were held aloft over his pot belly by a pair of suspenders; his scruffy beard betrayed a recent snack. It was broad daylight in … Continue reading Home is where Your Heart Is: I Heart Vermont, Kinda
Letters Home: A Memorial Day Reflection
Dad handed me an ancient stationery box stuffed with letters a few years ago, written by my granddad on the eve of and during his WWII tour of duty. "Thought you'd get a kick out of this," he quipped, as he often does whenever he passes down more family artifacts. He was right about that. Some were addressed … Continue reading Letters Home: A Memorial Day Reflection
Sycamore Stories 