Fred First
FRED FIRST: And the Memories Live On: Super-agers
Their brains age more slowly than normal-agersNot a day passes that I don't remember my mother, but especially this time of year. The end of May two years ago...
FRED FIRST: To The End of The End of The Book
The uncertainty and never-ending unknowing may soon end. For the past year, there has been...
FRED FIRST: My Wee Musical Man-Cave
Digital Tones and Frets and Reeds: Oh My!A month ago this small room behind me...
FRED FIRST: Still is Still Moving . . .
We just don't quite know when the VAN will be at the door
THE RECAPThe storyline...
FRED FIRST: Turning Points of Note From a Season of Change
First night: Middle of April: The sliding doors are open with nothing but the screens to...
An April Walk Along A Creek and Back Through Time
I have hiked Rock Castle Creek trail a few times since we moved back to Virginia in 1997, but not in April—not until...
Predator, Prey and An Egg A Day
Between April showers, the warm, calm dusk deepened toward dark. Lightning flashed soundlessly in the far distance as I slipped on my boots,...
Make Sense of Place By Knowing Where You’re From
Where are you from?
No, really. This is a serious and important question to ponder for a moment, because as Wendell Berry has suggested,...
Vegetable Horrors of Childhood and Beyond
The asparagus of childhood appears in memory like dead green fingers from a cold can, and I can clearly see its gray green...
Spring Wins In The End . . .
Spring comes with agonizing slowness in the mountains of Virginia. (My mother in Alabama says the jonquils are in full bloom there already.)...
Slippery Slope of Winter ~ Part Two
As you may recall, when the first part of this tale ended, the author lay sprawled spread-eagle on the icy brink of disaster. A...