Perspective
Ghostly Ruins on the Rappahannock
Since I was a little boy I had heard stories about the old home place of my grandmother's family.
Since I was a little boy I had heard stories about the old home place of my grandmother's family.
Igor Glenn picks up the second chapter in his musical journey.
Sometime in the past few weeks the wet stormy weather that had vexed us all year turned to something approaching perfection.
The woods up here have gone silent again after a month of the roar of chainsaws, bucket truck, industrial chipper, tracked grinder, log splitter, splitting mall, steel wedge and kindling hatchet chewing up broken trees, dead trees, live trees, widow makers, raggedy limbs, a billion or six leaves, old stumps and, I guess, about 400 or so billets of locust, beech, maple and oak that will eventually go into the soapstone stove and up our chimney over the next couple of years.
As I listen to the call to cruise missiles against Syria, I think of gentle warriors.