I come from a suburb out side of Washington DC where anonymity was my middle name.
I come from a long line of spring haters. My sister declares, “all that growth, rebirth, and renewal — I’m not into that. Give me fall. The death season.”
Everybody here has a gig, sometimes two or three. They are craftsman, artists, master chefs, farriers, healers or visionaries. But what was I?
I’m a driver but I like the idea of driving more than the act itself.
As a storyteller and a bit of a romantic, I’m interested in how and why people land on the Vineyard.