Well it’s spring again. How do I know? The first clue was the daffodils in the yard. The second clue…ants in my coffee. We have ants, ants in the kitchen, ants in the bathroom, and ants in the bedroom. They are little ants, not the kind that could carry off the cat, but ants are…
Month: March 2010
The Bonnaroo experience, part 2 (Camp)
Sometime around midnight we found our way back to our parking spot behind the porta-potties. Dirty and exhausted we tried to sleep in the car. I had eaten a questionable falafel from a street vendor during the Tom Petty concert which only added to the discomfort of all in the car. It was about 90…
The Bonnaroo experience, part 1 (Day Parking?)
He was so friendly, the smiling young man with unbelievably long blond dreadlocks and straw hat. He nodded his head and smiled as he directed us to park our car near the first-aid balloon tethered to the line of Porta Potties. Lisa put the car in park and we all began organizing our belongings for…
Losing a friend.
Wow, I can’t believe he’s gone. My good friend Gary Lott made his final exit Monday night. He was fine one moment and the next, he was gone. It’s been heart breaking. His wife Andrea is an amazing, strong woman. Her openness during her grief has been such a gift to her friends. Sean’s response…
History as It Happens
In The Daily Writer today, Fred White talks about writing to preserve history. He talks about the importance of being true to historical events. He goes so far as to say we have a moral obligation to record history and that it is a betrayal to the resulting human experience not to. I wonder how…
Food and Fiction
Some of my favorite books include scenes where people are eating. The description of food adds such richness to the storytelling and often reveals something about the characters doing the eating. I love the food descriptions in John Grisham’s A Painted House. Not only does Grisham describe the prepared food itself in a way that…
Back to the Barn
Bent over in the warm sun, I hear the crunch of tires on gravel as the little black truck passes by. I straighten my back and offer a neighborly wave. He’s gone. Mr. Orville is headed to town so it’s now or never. I drop my trowel and handful of weeds into the dirt and…
Rainy Day
Discombobulated day: Fred challenges…extract the unusual from the everyday. This is all I’ve got. Raindrops tap a tune on my windshield, Each drop, a waxing crescent moon. The dark half liquid silver, mercury; illuminated, the other reflects color and light. Telephone poles like black ink pens point to loopy, spiraling clouds and draw arching lines across…