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Bill Finch

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Where Spring Begins

I lived high up on a mountain once where spring came slow. It came creeping north from the river first, through the divide, climbing slowly up each...

Head in the Clouds

Find a spot, if you must, for that live oak or crepe myrtle. Add a few green bushes so the neighbors won’t talk.  But the first...

Where Winter is Robin’s Spring

If you get a chance, ask all those Michigan birds why they’re loitering in your yard and on your beaches this December. You might look down your...

The Lagniappe of November

In Birmingham and Atlanta, they’re quietly raking up the year’s gardening dreams, stuffing them into plastic bags. In the upper South, frosts fall hard in November,...

The Longleaf Regeneration

A hundred years ago, it fell on Mobile and Fairhope, on Bay Minette and Citronelle, like a seventh-year gift from heaven, and we were ready...

September, When Butterflies Are Free

In September, the sullen green of Gulf Coast Summer suddenly waves with purple and gold, blue and orange, wildflowers rising to meet butterflies, flowers visited by flowers....

Peas Be With You

Once, we all shelled peas. It was one of the few activities that could unite this contentious confederacy that we call the South. Democrats and Republicans, ...

Night in the Tropics

The days are hard enough, but Lord, the nights. The sleepless nights, when the bed feels hot and close, and your legs ache, and...

A Twist of Daffodils

Her garden was like her proud Victorian house, overcast with the erect, old willow oaks that lined the streets of Tyler Hill, laid out with wide...

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