There are places that seem simply magical. Places where history seems alive and there are signs of concern for the land. Places where work is still seen as worthwhile. Places where one can look and, for a brief moment in time, see how he came to be. There are places in which community, individual struggles, family concern, and natural beauty are all intermingled together.
One of those places is my Grandaddy’s farm in northwest Alabama. His work on this farm, and the people he has touched for miles around, stand as a testimony of his character. He’s 94, and I’ve never been more proud to know him.
Pondero 