Buying the Farm
byIf you read our post last month, buried somewhere beneath all the poetic waxing, you may have figured out that we purchased a piece…
MOST RECENT POSTS
Mr. Bojangles
byIt seemed a little bit like I’d become a sort of urban anthropologist, as I slowly worked to clear this little pocket of land….
Un-Common
byAnyone who’s traveled with me knows I’m crazy about birds. Boating across The Netherlands, friends laughed at my incessant waterfowl photography (quickly dubbed Duck…
Wine and dandy
by“Peapods,” says Kelly Coyne, pausing for emphasis. We’d just told her and her husband, Erik Knutzen, about making wine with peapod hulls. “It’s just…
The Ten Percent
byRemember the intense conversations you had as a twentysomething about things that mattered: literature, philosophy, social justice, cake versus yeast doughnut? If you’re like…
Impossi-bull
byWhy is it that of my many friends who are some variant of vegetarian/vegan/pescatarian, it’s this here carnivore who is most excited that Burger…
Broken things
byI was a cheap bastard, even when I made a living wage. This won’t surprise any of the coworkers from my careers in marketing…
Trial by Fire
byMy sister-in-law likes to say she’s a collard not a marigold, meaning she prefers cold weather over hot. I, on the other hand, am…
Pestinsides
byFor years, Brad and I have been members of Georgia Organics because we believe that food should be: fresh from the tree/stalk/vine to which…
Featured Posts
Grape expectations
byIt started off so innocently. Which is, I know, what Prince Paris and Helen of Troy thought when they met for some spanakopita, and…
