Outside my window is a whole world of Piedmont Carolina woods. Tulip poplar, red maple, loblolly pine, sweet gum, water oak, eastern red cedar, persimmon, winged elm, sweet sassafras, black cherry . . .
These are the vertical lines that measure my daily life, teach and inform me. They house scarlet tanagers and cuckoos and screech owls, mourning doves and common grackles and white-breasted nuthatches. They go about their seasons, changing all the time. They inspire me, settle my soul, give me a living laboratory of infinite variety.
So I dedicate my first blog to the trees outside my door, dear and close at hand.
I’ve had a writing life since I was 17. I hope this site will be a home for my words (How about stories in the parlour, how-to advice in the kitchen, poems on the front porch? Can’t wait to see what ends up in the bedroom and the attic.)
Anyway, I’m going to populate my house. Come and visit. Tell me what you like and what you don’t, collaborate, confer, confab: let’s make community.
I’ll start the tea and pull down the whiskey. See, I like this already too much.
box turtle road 
Bravo! and love.
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I’m going to love visiting this house. I can already tell.
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The photo of the table brings back layer upon layer of memories, laughter, stories, urgings to higher ground. Love that table and the woman and man who claim ownership.
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thank you for the stories of the trees and life outside our window. look forward to tea and whiskey in the parlour
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I look forward to reading this. Best of luck.
I’ve been blogging for about 15 years and it is both the most frustrating and most rewarding experiences.
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Cool
Like soft breezes through dappled leaves
Like whiskey and tea sitting still in thought
Persimmon trees light from sun and roots in earth
Sweet in time, fuzz on teeth too soon.
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Just reading some Wendell, who speaks often of trees. This, from his poem Planting Trees…
Let me desire and wish well the life
these trees may live when I
no longer rise in the mornings
to be pleased by the green of them
shining, and their shadows on the ground,
and the sound of the wind in them.
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Happy to find your blog, Gary. And get to read your potent words.
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