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
I was still. The wind rumbled just like Thurl Ravenscroft did from my room. A gust of wind blew through the treetops, and all of them let out this baritone groan that made my hands shake. Maybe this was what Grandma was talking about. Maybe . . . Continue Reading
I have written a little bit about my love for these mountains, about my fond – and not so fond – memories living deep in the holler. The place where I grew up was an offshoot of an area called Demory Hollow. At one point in time, Demory was aContinue Reading