As Magnolia gets fitter, she has enough wind to keep up a commentary of the land we’re crossing.

Not only does she nicker to every car door that opens in the vain hope that I’ll stop, she’s taken to calling out to those great round hay bales. Old farm implements get her attention too, and then there are concrete statues and reflections in glass.

Passing through Chattanooga was Hell on her as plate glass rules downtown.

Every time she saw… Continue reading →