It is Sunday, early, and we’re in Hendersonville, N.C. It is overcast, raining, the remnants of a storm moving through this picturesque mountain town. Normally, I would be sitting in a pew at St Mark’s Church in Port Royal. This sitting (and some standing) comes with a homily – what we Episcopalians call the Eucharist… Keep Reading
It is Saturday morning, and I’m on my slightly-worse-for-the-wear deck. This morning I have my coffee (Peet’s Major Dickason’s Blend), a Food Lion-brand Chocolate Chip Cookie (“dare to dunk differently”) and a view of my side yard. That yard presents a tableau that looks like the Somme Battlefield complete with an uprooted tree and two… Keep Reading
It is Monday and I’m on the Statehouse grounds in Columbia. It is dark, late, and my wife and I are walking the manicured grounds looking at Ben Tillman, Wade Hampton and Strom Thurmond — each illuminated man set off against the modest, beautifully proportioned capital dome which is also illuminated. Tillman, known as Pitchfork… Keep Reading
It is Friday and it is early. This morning I’ve got my coffee (Major Dickason’s Blend), a tangerine and a the expectation of a couple of days in the North Carolina mountains. As soon as Susan wakes we will begin our journey that will take us to the Blue Ridge. This morning the slate-gray, overcast… Keep Reading
It is Saturday, early, and I’m sitting at our rustic, planked, dining room table watching the sun rise behind Lady’s Island. This morning I’ve got my coffee, tangerine and the prospect of some mimosa-infused conversation. Later this morning my wife and I will attend a fundraising brunch hosted by the Open Land Trust. For me… Keep Reading
It is Saturday, still early, still cool, and there is the expectation of a morning in the yard. We were gifted with an unexpectedly temperate spring— several months that seemed to be a reward for a year of isolation. But our isolation has ended and now we venture into restaurants, dinner parties and art exhibits.… Keep Reading