Writer | Journalist | Storyteller
Autumn is a smell: woodsmoke, decaying leaves and cinnamon. It’s a color palette too: oranges, reds and browns. The color of the earth on fire. The air has an entirely different quality with a crisp snap in your nose and the way the low light glows now rather than shimmers, the sun never getting so very high. The tastes are no longer the green bite of spring shoots, or the sugary sweetness of summer corn, but the savory, earthy, more subtle flavors of mushrooms, root vegetables and gourds...
by David Todd McCarty | Thursday, October 15, 2015
My wife Jane thinks it’s silly to talk about having a fire in the fireplace.
“Where else would you light a fire? The sink?” she’ll say.
I guess she has a point, but it sounds strange to simply say, “I think I’ll start a fire” then walk into the other room.
I grew up with a fireplace and I have one today. It’s glorious.
It’s scarf season motherfuckers. That’s right. I’m breaking out my scarves and there’s nothing you can do about it. Black ones, grey ones, yellow ones. Linen, wool, cotton. Long, wide, frayed, infinite loop, keffiyeh. I’ve got em all. And yet, I just bought two more. I’ve always said that fat men love scarves, but that’s probably not even accurate. A lot of fat men are constantly hot, so maybe a scarf is not the thing for them. What I should say is that this fat man loves scarves, and really...
Writer | Journalist | Storyteller
