Thyme Alone on the Hill

It’s 24 degrees outside. The snow is falling, and I have meatball and chicken broth soup slow cooking in my little country home. I can smell the onions and garlic, the carrots and celery, the chicken broth and thyme. I’m totally alone, and I’m happy. I have a beer in my hand, a cigarette burning…

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A Place of Our Own: Appalachia

I want to talk to you about Appalachia. It brings to mind images of toothless, aged creatures with dirty faces fresh from the mines, images of barefoot, barely dressed, children wearing feed sacks with barren landscape as a background, doesn’t it? Maybe, modern day stereotypes conjure images of welfare recipients, overweight, diseased people, strung out…