BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… BLEAK SUN. A winter sun set fire to the west and I stopped. For a moment, time stilled. The living room windows were dirty. The windows have needed cleaning for a season or two. Little time for that in the treadmill of surviving, responding, reacting. There are journalism notes to be thrown…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… DARK TOWN SNOW. The painting hangs in the gallery, testament to a thousand small towns, a thousand Americas across the winter, a thousand winter nights. The weathered, lonely red bricks of an easily overlooked downtown, the black of the sky, white snow piled on old wooden steps. Unseen street lamp illuminates the…
The Tinsmith’s Gift by Tom Koob Stanley was a tinsmith, and a good one. He cut and molded and soldered tin into useful items- candle snuffers, jewelry boxes, ladles. Stanley lived alone in a small cottage a mile from the village. His home was alongside a rivulet running through a forested glen. Every few days,…