The morning air was balmy and cool. As I walked down Mayberry the birdsong seemed silenced by the clanking of a tractor and its’ scoop consolidating the debris of hog wire, split screens and tin into a burn pile. Surveying crews and workmen hastened to make progress. Along the road, I smiled and nodded as I crossed the path of locals whom I feel have become my neighbors. Over the.. Read More
Heritage Series | Print Release
I slept with the windows open at the foot of Papaw Jim’s mountain. The babbling brook lulled me to sleep; and to the crisp Appalachian air of late November I gently awoke. The light streamed in across the quilt, hand-stitched by my great aunt Joyce. It was Thanksgiving morning in the holler known as Dry Fork. That day I explored, sketched, took pictures researched my Virginia family heritage, wrote down.. Read More