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…
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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…
Re: Tired
byIt has taken me more than a year to publicly write these words, and it’s still not easy. But here goes, at last: I lost my job. Thirteen months ago. This was not ideal.
Skeleton at the Feast 2018
byIt’s that time of year when I feebly try to encapsulate 12 months into 80 minutes of music. “Skeleton at the Feast” is our…
Just a-Swingin’
byThere are miserable things about living in the South. I’m not talking about racism and poverty, which are everywhere. (I’ve got a couple of…
Sow and Behold
by“It’s like you’ve been magically transported back to 1995.” So my sister says, after my new job at Jenny Jack Farm began back in March. Three days a week, I’m in the field or greenhouse, with intermittent phone coverage and no internet access. And the last thing I want to do in the evening is clear spam out of the inbox, which means I typically log on only two days a week.
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…
