when i was a child i would spend South Texas evenings throwing myself with reckless abandon into the gnarled branches of a waiting magnolia. above the pecan falls and beyond the waiting call of my mother’s dinner bell. all to sit for a moment with those sweet flowers in theContinue Reading

the old men in this part of the world used to pass on tradition in rocking chairs father and son, mother and daughter believing they were immovable come hell or high water. but now there’s fire on the mountain and dirt on the grave the creeks a’risin and perhaps whatContinue Reading