RSSCategory: American Pokweed

Eat or be eaten

Eat or be eaten

  Gut-hooked bass are nearly always dead bass, but this one was just barely gut hooked. Thankfully, I’d pressed the barb down on this #2 wooly bugger fly (actually, it was my own tie with trademark outlandishly big hackles I’d christened the beasty bugger) and it looked like I could slip the point out of […]

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December 1, 2019 | By More
Blood Brother

Blood Brother

He materializes out of river-bottom tangles, silent as the morning mist that hangs thick in the cottonwood and hackberry limbs. The young buck isn’t cruising for girls; it’s still a week or more away from pre-rut festivities. Most likely, he’s ambled over from a nearby plum thicket sniffing for the burgundy-colored honey locust pods that […]

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November 1, 2019 | By More
Water tables

Water tables

I’ve gotten into this habit of listening to Jason Isbell and the 400 Unite while I garden. I love to sing along with lines like “old women harmonizing with the wind,” and “Jack and Coke in your mama’s car; you were reading the Bell Jar.” But there is one song I usually just listen to, […]

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October 1, 2019 | By More
Rebuilding the soil

Rebuilding the soil

Back when it was still cold, we decided to try our hand at a no till garden — a mixture of hügelkultur and lasagna gardening. What in the world are these things? And why would we choose not to till our garden? I’ll start with the first question. Hügelkultur is a German word for a […]

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September 1, 2019 | By More
Pearly Everlasting

Pearly Everlasting

  I haven’t had a chance to write about it much, but I seldom choose to leave our house these days. My home is on the same land where my grandfather ran a truck patch, where my father grew up, and where I visited on the weekends as a young child. I love it here […]

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August 1, 2019 | By More
Gar Hole

Gar Hole

Point Remove Creek’s slow warm currents dawdle in the lazy hot days of mid-summer. The creek bottom’s air dawdles, too. It’s stagnant and damp, amplifying smells of life and death, and the pungent odor of death is strong today. Metallic green and blue bottle flies swarm and cover the corpse of a shortnose gar lying […]

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July 1, 2019 | By More
Guns and responsibility

Guns and responsibility

During my rural childhood, I was taught, as I’m sure many of you were, that there were two appropriate places for guns — either on the rack or in the woods. No one had to tell me that school or downtown was not the proper context for a gun. But then, we didn’t worry about […]

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June 1, 2019 | By More
Where the wild hens roost

Where the wild hens roost

One afternoon, a neighbor stopped to ask if we had any chickens missing. All of ours were accounted for, happily scratching around the yard and pooping in places I’d rather they didn’t. It seems that a small flock of hens had taken up on the property across the road. Our neighbor wasn’t sure where those […]

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May 1, 2019 | By More
A nearby faraway

A nearby faraway

The old white farmhouse was tucked into a corner with woods on two sides. A gentle ridge dense with post oak and hickory lifted north and the woods extended west behind the house for nearly a mile. Granny and Poppy moved there when I was five. The woods held my attention from that first viewing. […]

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April 1, 2019 | By More
When friends pass on

When friends pass on

We recently lost our sweet Katie Dog to heart failure. A few weeks before that, we lost our cat Orwell to old age. In both cases, we buried them behind the shed near where my own childhood horses and dogs are buried — a morbid, but peaceful, reminder that our family has been on this […]

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March 1, 2019 | By More