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This story is one of my favorites. It is a bit of fiction, based on something that happened to me in our mountains of Kentucky many, many years ago.
When you pass on one of the vanishing arts, souls are nurtured in the exchange. That is my story for today.
Thirty three years. This story is thirty-three years old. Thirty-three Memorial Days. Thirty-three Labor Days. Thirty-three sweet, swift summers.
The profound joy of simple things. A sweet memory from many years ago.
What is your favorite insect? Mine is the firefly.
When the kids all lived at home we established a wonderful tradition.
From the publisher's feed