Monthly Archives: February 2015

Pillow Cases (Kid You Not)

Posted on February 27, 2015 by rivertoprambles

[What’s goin’ on here, anyway? Have the “shack nasties” settled in so badly that Old Man Winter just rambles around the place while looking for the Exit sign and forcing me to write stuff like… well, you’ll see. I mean, it’s … Continue reading →

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A Village Celebration

Posted on February 21, 2015 by rivertoprambles

About 22 years ago the local historical society planned a party. The town of Greenwood was turning 165 years old, and the group approached me to write and to share a poem or two for a gathering at the Methodist … Continue reading →

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The Sixties (Deja Vu, Again)

Posted on February 17, 2015 by rivertoprambles

[The rivertop freeze is taking its sweet time to unbuckle and depart. Not much I can do about it except to keep piling on the wood, and to write. Fly fishing? It’ll be a while. But this is a workingman/woman’s … Continue reading →

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Of Birth and Poetry

Posted on February 15, 2015 by rivertoprambles

[At seven degrees below zero (F.) it’s way too cold for fly-fishing; there’s enough artificial flies tied up and secured in little boxes, so it’s natural for me to have my thoughts go wayward on this post, a meditation on … Continue reading →

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Off the Beaten Track But Going Strong

Posted on February 12, 2015 by rivertoprambles

[A bit of southern, rivertop non-fiction, though the names have been changed to protect the guilty. This is the longest post I’ve ever done or am likely to do again. At twice the usual word count, I realize that to … Continue reading →

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A Century Gone

Posted on February 8, 2015 by rivertoprambles

The passenger pigeon was once the most abundant wild bird in North America and, perhaps, in all the world. It’s been said that more than a quarter of all the birds in North America in the 1800s were Ectopistes migratorius, … Continue reading →

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A Pine Creek Ramble

Posted on February 3, 2015 by rivertoprambles

“It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it.” –John Burroughs The winter air in the Pine Creek Natural … Continue reading →

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