Garden Road - October 21, 2014 First, I’d like to thank Stacy Snyder, Heather Fortune and whoever else that decided at the Wayne Secondary School to award me with community member of the month for September. I appreciate the gesture and the support I’ve received after returning home, attempting to revitalize the Times-Republican. I’m certain there are much more deserving recipients than me.
I found out about it at the Seymour versus Wayne football game, where $5,000 was raised in support of cancer survivors. Both teams wore purple socks. Spectators were also supposed to wear purple, and if you needed that color, you could buy a ribbon. Since my brother Grant died of cancer, it meant something to me. Everyone who helped organize the event in the Corydon and Seymour areas should be thanked. Cancer has become epidemic, and the new oncology department at the Wayne County Hospital is a great addition to the community. Oct 20, 2014, 08:38
Garden Road - October 14, 2014 I drove my sons down what we call Sleepy Hollow Road a few weekends ago in our John Deere Gator. This is the dirt road that leads east from Shane Hill, around seven miles south of Corydon. A few hunters have demonstrated their excellent marksmanship on some of the flood warning signs. However, on a few markers advising a five-mile-per-hour speed limit, I believe their rifles’ iron sights might be off slightly.
Where the waters wash over the way, county crews have deposited thick chunks of gravel to serve as a temporary bridge. The boys said oh when the six-wheeled vehicle bounced over the rocky pass. Wes liked the hedge apples still hanging from their row, the green folds of which I advised him not to eat. I tried to point out for him, to help the young boy appreciate the Virginia creepers burning bright red while they climbed walnut trees with yellowed leaves; in some cases, the walnut has died, with the creeping vines winding around every branch, making it seem as though the tree is still alive. Oct 13, 2014, 08:45
Garden Road - October 7, 2014 This is the time of year—though it was usually drier than this—that I would spend mowing pasture with our brush cutter. The haying was over for the year, and more time could be spent keeping the fields clean of saplings and multi-flower rose bushes. It’s what separates a farm from wilderness. I particularly enjoyed mowing the west section of my grandparents’ land, where the hills are steep. When I took a black and white picture of the farm, which my sister and I framed as a Christmas present for our grandparents, my photography professor said the view reminded her of something from 'Wuthering Heights.' From the seat of the tractor, it was a panorama. I hold those mornings, mowing our land’s picturesque hills, close to my heart.
Fatigue set in by the end of the day, from bouncing through cattle paths and ruts and not drinking enough water. I did not feel like writing afterward. Some say authors should work a physically demanding job, then decompress behind a typewriter, but that’s not for everyone. Oct 6, 2014, 09:34
Garden Road - September 30, 2014 Fringes of the maple tree across the street are beginning to turn bright orange, while the fading sun is tipping some of our walnut trees yellow. A tree on the corner of the driveway to the Corydon housing complex is burning red in spots, and those crimson leaves gather in clumps below. The change is here. 2,500 years ago, at the tipping point of the sun’s descent south, we’d be gathering inside the resonant pillars of Stonehenge, that old mortuary and planetarium. And the crops would be reaped under the light of the harvest moon, the full moon closest to the autumnal equinox. This year that will be Oct. 8. Sep 29, 2014, 09:03
Garden Road - September 23, 2014 Due to time and space constraints, this week’s Garden Road will be short and sweet. Perhaps this will seem like good news to some.
After writing the first draft of my story about Paul Epperly, I sent it by request to his daughter, Marti. This was her response:
“Isn’t it amazing how my dad can remember all those kids, their positions, and even the plays they made? He really was in it for all the right reasons. He loved the game and the kids who played for him. To him, it wasn’t just a job, it was a way of life (it was for all of us—my mom used to wash the football uniforms every Saturday). I know he was really humbled when the field was named after him, but he’s the first one to say he had a lot of good people helping him, from players to coaches, to parents and fans.” Sep 22, 2014, 09:53