Fred First
FRED FIRST: My Wee Musical Man-Cave
Digital Tones and Frets and Reeds: Oh My!A month ago this small room behind me was just my office. Now it is also my music room.I see this as...
FRED FIRST: Still is Still Moving . . .
We just don't quite know when the VAN will be at the door
THE RECAPThe storyline...
FRED FIRST: Turning Points of Note From a Season of Change
First night: Middle of April: The sliding doors are open with nothing but the screens to...
FRED FIRST: What Was A Half Million Acres of Cypress Swamp
The transformation of the Missouri Boot HeelA year from today, I will be living in...
FRED FIRST: There Are Places I Remember
The Moods and Memories of MountainsOn reaching the summit of the long incline up from...
Living Within Our Means, Means Knowing Our Limits
by Fred First
I recently read these headlines, and was oddly encouraged: “Europe has already run out of fish for the year.” I’ll share with...
Dragonfly Pest Control: A Free Global Service
by Fred First
Even after being a biology watcher for decades, I learned something very interesting a few years ago when I chanced upon...
Every Drought Ends with a Good Rain
by Fred First
This selection is from Slow Road Home, written in August 2002, a lament during one of the worst droughts in living...
In Praise of the “Wolf Peach”
by Fred First
It is, in fact, a giant berry, technically a fruit. And it has been variously misunderstood, feared, loathed and praised during...
Economics As If People And Planet Mattered
by Fred First
Is it just me, or does most everyone you talk to these days think that most everything in politics, economics, society...
All Trails Lead to Blue Ridge Mountains
by Fred FirstA city girl, my mother used to say wistfully that she was born with the country in her bones. I lived, early...