Partial to Home: Spring is in the air … and litter is everywhere

Tuesday afternoon after the rains, I had the good fortune to be sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a just-completed small cabin at the edge of a pond in northwest Clay County. My host was Johnny Wray, a slow-foods farmer who embraces his vocation in the spirit of Wendell Berry.

Partial to Home: Willie’s blues

The blues historian Scott Barretta has a clipping from The New Yorker tacked to the wall of the office in his Greenwood home.

Partial to Home: Icebergs as big as houses

Sunday morning, two weeks ago, the parking lot of the Dollar General in Eastpoint, Florida, was jumping. Beth and I had stopped for bottled water. We were headed into the interior of the Florida Panhandle for a day of kayaking.

Partial to Home: Steve Castanis’ long journey

In 1986, the late Mike Royko wrote a newspaper column titled “Shortage of short Greeks killing us.” Royko, a syndicated columnist for the Chicago Tribune, began by relating a bad dining experience at a cafe managed by a college graduate with a degree in hotel and restaurant management.

Partial to Home: Unclaimed baggage

I suppose I should thank the person who threw out the plastic bag from Unclaimed Baggage while driving through the soccer park last week.

Partial to Home: Our Mother Goose

There was something rare and ineffably sweet about the gathering at the Trotter Center Saturday evening a week ago. “Goose’s Grand Gala” it was called, a party for Edwina Williams, known by many as simply, “Mother Goose.”

Partial to Home: Beware the sulling possum

“A Mr. Ronald Crowe is here to see you.” It was a receptionist in the front office, Monday morning.

Partial to Home: Possums under the house

There are benefits to living near a firehouse. I hope the firemen there feel the same way. We’re a block away and always good for a laugh.

Partial to Home: Santa Claus revealed

When I was 6 years old, I had a paper route. I am sure of this because one of my customers gave my mother a handwritten note I put in her newspaper.

Partial to Home: A chance encounter with the past

A woman carrying a bag of cat food stopped and put a dollar in the red kettle.

“Thanks,” I said. “I hope you and your cat have a merry Christmas.”

Partial to Home: Bluegrass memories and Christmas lights

In the summer 1979, after listening to high school classmates Nate Pack and Joe Shelton — aka Big Joe Shelton — rhapsodize about it for years, I drove to north Alabama for a bluegrass festival at a place called Horse Pens 40.

Partial to Home: Christmas party downtown, everybody invited

Friday evening I felt like an Olan Mills photographer. I made snapshot portraits of more than 100 people with my digital camera.

Partial to Home: The need for conversation

A friend walked up to me after Rotary and stuck his hand out: “I know what you’ve been up to this past week.” We both laughed.

Birney Imes: By way of the river

Friday morning around 11 o’clock Dick Leike stood on the widow’s walk of Riverview and gazed out over the treetops toward the river and the black prairie beyond. The sun had cleared the oak trees in the front yard of the house, and the stained glass of the cupola behind Leike glowed like neon. The cupola is as large as a two-car garage and is, like every other feature of this Greek revival treasure, majestic.

Partial to Home: Conversation under an oak tree

“I’m gonna miss that tree,” said Jimmy Cole. He was nodding toward a white oak that might have been a seedling when Lincoln took the dais at Gettysburg.

Partial to Home: Bob Nolan’s Trumpian encounter

A couple weeks ago, Bob Nolan and I were standing around in my backyard talking. Actually, I was doing the talking; Bob was repairing a crack in a rowboat made of polyethylene plastic with a heat gun. I was trying to stay out of his way.

Partial to Home: Bobby and Big Joe

Wonder what Joe would have said about “Bobby” winning the Nobel.

Partial to Home: The bespoke Ms. Swift

Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Linda Swift sits in front of a large picture window with sagging Venetian blinds and sews.

Partial to home: Moonrise over Friendship Cemetery

Thursday evening while paddling on the river, I looked up at the moon and thought of Ansel Adams. Adams, you may know, was a photographer of the American West — arguably the photographer of the American West — known for his black-and-white prints that rivaled the grandeur of the landscapes they depicted.

Partial to Home: Two angels reeking of alcohol

Out of the blue comes an email from Larry Studdard. If you qualify for a senior discount at the picture show, went to high school in the area and paid attention to the sports pages of that time, you need no introduction.