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Honey Branch, not unlike other parts of rural Appalachia, has a paradoxically bittersweet character. Home to rugged mountains, babbling creeks, thick foliage and various wildlife, the natural beauty and quiet stillness of the holler recall a simpler time. It is only five minutes away from St. Paul, Virginia, a small town whose revitalization has focused on rural tourism like kayaking and ATV trails. To those of us who lived on the branch, though, there is a haunting darkness . . . Continue Reading

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We passed some rushing waterfalls tumbling over rocks as they splashed down the hill. Daddy said that June was the peak season for the rhododendrons that grew wild in the park. As we drove along, the roadside was lined with their pink blossoms and waxy green leaves, and beyond them the lush green hillsides, one after another, becoming blue and then a hazy kind of slate gray as they faded off into the distance . . . Continue Reading

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The plastic on the windows crinkled, the fire in the furnace flickered, and the room got colder still. Junebug’s black cashmere sweater was soft and warm against her pale skin. The moonshine warmed her from within. The dogs moved closer to the flickering fire and . . . Continue Reading

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Even a year and a half later, I have more thoughts, emotions, and stories from those weeks of immediate storm recovery than I could ever put fully into words. I think a lot about the people I never would have met if the hurricane hadn’t happened. I still have images burned into my brain . . .Continue Reading

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Eventually, I stumbled upon the page of some woman I’ve never met. I think she goes to my papaw’s church or something. I’m not sure, but what caught my attention was this string of bad poems she kept posting.

One read . . . Continue Reading

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As I move my body upon the land
The rhythm of nature flows through my earth.
As my thoughts and words change, the clearer I see
Who I am and how I can be

A strong yet gentle, spiritual warrior

My words sing freedom and power to . . . Continue Reading