That horseshoe must have been a sign

Greetings from Carrboro,   I knew it had been a parking lot. For 70 years, trucks had backed in, delivered, and left. Regardless, I didn’t expect my first exuberant swing of the pick-ax to bounce.  Or, for that matter, the 53rd. But if there was ever going to be a garden much less a place to sit outside […] Read more