My mom has a chestnut tree in her new backyard. I know because I came across dozens of little spiky somethings spread on the ground and I was concerned that her dog might step on one (or more) and get hurt. I brought one into her house. We debated asContinue Reading

Our river is the Obed River in southeastern Appalachia. There are five of us. We’re all good friends. We work at the same restaurant and watering hole, the old Sunspot, on the old strip – otherwise known as Cumberland Avenue in Knoxville, Tennessee. We are coming of age, living inContinue Reading

October is peak leaf season in Asheville and the burst of colors brings a flood of tourists to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Long after the trees are denuded and the tourists have ebbed, beautiful leaves are still here.  Many are scattered in forest nooks and crannies, like fallen soldiers after a battle. Continue Reading

In the primeval forests of Appalachia, among the wildness, among the coal mines and their homegrown communities, waters flow. From mountain ridges these waters course and trickle into one another. Momentum from this continuum carves, molds, and sculpts ancient rock. Ever so slowly, water erodes away the lithology. Soluble mineralsContinue Reading

On closer look it becomes what we most despise:  something unnameably near, confounding us with its ability to make vague silhouettes of familiar landmarks or bloat the once-solid shapes of signs lending geometric certitude to all our directions. — Edward Francisco From “The Terror of Kudzu”   One of myContinue Reading