Historically, we cannot argue with the stout Christian faith of our Scots-Irish forebears who settled these hills, nor question their reasons for leaving the Old Country.

That September was a hot one. Beyond the soft industrial hum, chorus of cicadas also answers.

The rain beats down hard outside, surprisingly cold, especially after so long a hot, dry summer. The warnings on my phone turn ominous:...

Lithography, stone, typography, the printing press, Gutenberg — this was all new and strange and I strangely loved it.

Wild rabbits and earthen mounds seem to haunt the untapped back regions of my mind.

We can walk through the Farmers Market and just see tents and tables and merchandise, but our Market folks are special, as are all earnest and intent artisans.

The sunset streaks with orange and purple and the wind is blowing from the Southeast, ragged and fitful and soft to the touch. The wind...

But this was April and I was nearing the end of the second grade. Kindergarten, first grade, second grade, the end of each school year was marked by a school program...

The wind picked up and the far northeast sky — far off toward a place called Chicago — was a flat cyan, the blue the color of the past.

The hard workers show respect, not disparagement. Mockery is the easy way out.

"Your house is like going to Grandma's in the '90s," my friend is saying, and I'm not sure if I should be amused or insulted. I tend to...

The orange sun slips behind the western mountain ridges. Summer solstice ends, even as the evening news begins its frantic reporting of...

The caravel's sails billowed and orchestral music swelled. I was glued to the TV that early summer of 1992, watching a PBS documentary on...

The sun was hot that late afternoon and bits and pieces of the moment still float somewhere in my memory. We were parked out back behind...

The great garden spider, all bright yellow and stark black, was still and waiting on her weaving web there amid blooming iris and peonies...

Next to a grand white oak that was appropriately gnarled with age, rested a battery of 1860s' cannon, tended by men in blue wool uniforms.

I clench the Arkansas diamond in my small palm, imagining in my five-year-old mind that the clear quartz crystal is a real diamond and,...

"You're a great storyteller, Uncle Josh," my niece is saying on the phone. "When you tell stories, it makes people want to listen."

I'm doing my best to stay awake, leaning back in the overstuffed couch as the clock ticks toward midnight. I'm catching up on my favorite...

Farmers Market will open every Saturday, 10 a.m.-2 p.m., and every Wednesday, 2-6 p.m., weather permitting (May through October). Many of our regular vendors will be there, as well as some new ones.