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The more things change...

Change is not so much what we make as it is what happens to us unawares. Not everything that changes is progress but it is inevitable that everything changes. The seasons flow on, all too quickly. We tighten our life-vests, and try to steer clear of the rocks. Along our way down the river, we are grateful for every resting place. Here's ours. Above, as it was in our first August here in 2016, and below, as it is now. We still miss the old cherry tree in the foreground of the first photo. It died the year after we moved here. We've carved a garden out of the hill and planted blueberries on the slope above. One thing hasn't changed. We're still here. It's still home. We'll hold to that reality as long as we can.


The latest dig, begun in July, finally was completed two days before Christmas. Present plans are to tuck an eight-foot by fourteen-foot greenhouse into the side of the hill there.

You might be wondering what we did with all that dirt, and I'll be posting about that later. Right now, I will tell you that our red Carolina clay doesn't get any softer or lighter for being worried. It is as impervious to persuasion as the owner of a coal mine.

Henry's books.