I stayed in this house which was just a stone's throw from this house and wandered sculpture gardens and hiked these trails and kept running into butterflies and chipmunks and spent most of my time moving commas around and thinking about this ghost town. Days, I ate really juicy stand-over-the-sink plums, and nights, I supped on lentils. It was all really heavenly, but now--after one more hike and a couple more comma-shifts--I'm ready to go home to be with my family.
Thank you, Pocantico, and Teachers & Writers Collaborative for providing me with so much space to think and breathe and write, to stare out the open window and notice the shapes of the leaves and the sounds of the cicadas. I truly appreciate it.
2 comments:
Now and then as we drive I-40, we take the Henry River exit and check to see the state of the ghost town that nestles on the hillside by the river. One Sunday, we ventured off the road onto the small street that runs by some of the houses. We were studying the structures,imagining lives lived there, when suddenly a burly man in a rusted pickup pulled up, and demanded that we leave. Oops! So I hope you will write the story of Henry River, and I will look forward to reading it! It is a quietly haunting place.
Maggie, it truly is a gem of a place. The book is in the works! I'll keep you posted. My grandmother, Maxine Newton, grew up in Henry River and we've been trying to put something together for years. Looks like it may come to fruition sometime soon.
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