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Sunday

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by James Wofford

Out in the yard a racoon is climbing to the top of a high straight poplar tree. Sixty feet up, swaying on the slim distant limbs, he is thoroughly licking the leaves one bunch after another. Racoons are climbers but I’ve never seen one this high. First I thought he was after bird eggs in a high nest but apparently it’s bugs or larvae he is feasting on and worth the climb. Read More

by James Wofford
Out in the yard a racoon is climbing to the top of a high straight poplar tree. Sixty feet up, swaying on the slim distant limbs, he is thoroughly licking the leaves one bunch after another. Racoons are climbers but I’ve never seen one this high. First I thought he was after bird eggs in a high nest but apparently it’s bugs or larvae he is feasting on and worth the climb. Read more [...]
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Hill Country

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by James Wofford

Around here, there’s always something that needs to be done, but usually nothing that needs to be done right now. A person can put it off a day or two, take their time, think about it a little more. Just my style really. Read More

by James Wofford
Around here, there’s always something that needs to be done, but usually nothing that needs to be done right now. A person can put it off a day or two, take their time, think about it a little more. Just my style really. Read more [...]
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Vegetable Garden

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by James Wofford

This is the face of a man who has not had an easy time of this life, the face of my own people in fact, not many generations back. Scotch Irish Appalachian stock. Clannish, suspicious of outsiders. To him, I am an interloper here, in my Japanese truck. Up from some suburb, the son or grandson of the bankers and speculators who’d starved his people off this land to start with. Read More

by James Wofford
This is the face of a man who has not had an easy time of this life, the face of my own people in fact, not many generations back. Scotch Irish Appalachian stock. Clannish, suspicious of outsiders. To him, I am an interloper here, in my Japanese truck. Up from some suburb, the son or grandson of the bankers and speculators who’d starved his people off this land to start with. Read more [...]
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Guitars

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by James Wofford

So here is where I have to admit. I’m not a very good guitar player. I wish I was, maybe could have been had I practiced more. I have a decent right hand, and can usually find the rhythm in a piece. But mainly, I just love guitars, the shape of them, the look of them, the feel of them. Read More

by James Wofford
So here is where I have to admit. I’m not a very good guitar player. I wish I was, maybe could have been had I practiced more. I have a decent right hand, and can usually find the rhythm in a piece. But mainly, I just love guitars, the shape of them, the look of them, the feel of them. Read more [...]
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Barbecue Truck

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by James Wofford

But as with most journeys, if one pays attention there are usually bright spots. I was thinking about lunch, and as I topped a hill near Canton there was a food truck on the left side of the road. A barbecue food truck. Bingo, I turned into the lot and parked. Read More

by James Wofford
But as with most journeys, if one pays attention there are usually bright spots. I was thinking about lunch, and as I topped a hill near Canton there was a food truck on the left side of the road. A barbecue food truck. Bingo, I turned into the lot and parked. Read more [...]
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