Mr Miller had lived in the cabin in the southeast corner of Porter’s field for as long as most people in town could remember. Everybody called it Mr Miller’s cabin, but really it was just a little wooden shack. If you were riding up Porter Road, you might not even notice it, tucked away in the clearing behind the stand of Eastern White Pines. When the wind blew through those trees, you could hear their eerie song all the way down the hill.
This is the ultimate in anti-consumerism and I’m absolutely fascinated by the whole idea. I don’t know how many times I’ve had something I wanted to give away but had no idea where to give it or who to give it to. I’m going to have to investigate whether […]
Tomorrow will be another day – and I will hear of another person who is doing amazing new things to improve the world we live in. And who knows – maybe I will blog about it. If my posts seem rather disjointed and themeless, it’s probably because I’m still playing […]