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At 9 a.m. Wednesday, the alarm went off from the smart phone on my nightstand. Reaching for the contraption and reading the morning text messages, it appeared our weekly editorial meeting set for 10 a.m. would shift to Friday. And yet, before I could roll back over to sleep a little more, another message pinged on the phone. 

Whirlwind. Virtuoso. Rollicking. Heartfelt.

Those were some of the sentiments I had ricocheting around my mind watching Bronwyn Keith-Hynes perform earlier this winter at The Orange Peel in Asheville. A renowned fiddler/singer, Keith-Hynes is headlong into a solo career with the recent disbanding of her former band, the Grammy-winning Americana/bluegrass act Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway. 

I was once a real sucker for the New Year’s Eve hoopla — toasting with champagne and making grandiose resolutions, but the past couple of December 31sts, I’ve felt a little lackluster in terms of the anticipatory energy that typically surrounds the beginning of another year. 

The word home evokes images that go deeper than its definition “the place where one lives.” 

Home means more than a house or domicile. It speaks of a place you live, and also a place that lives within you. It can mean where you come from, a place you aspire to go or return to, and it can mean emotional connection to a living space, or land that you are connected to emotionally.

The absurdity of life, eh?   

I’m just sitting here right now at the local laundromat in West Waynesville. Simply observing and reflecting on gratitude, for nothing and everything, and everything in-between. Families sit quietly around me awaiting the wash cycle to end. It’s Sunday morning. Back to work by this time tomorrow. Spend your free time cleaning your clothes.   

There are people who elevate the energy in a room and those who deflate it. Some folks radiate joy and positivity while others seem to always emit negativity or bitterness. The magical part is that we all have the free will to change, to completely shift our vibration from low to high, and by doing that, we not only impact our own lives, but also those around us. 

Of all the chapters that I read and reviewed in my most recent review of the book “Letters From the Smokies” in Smoky Mountain Living (June-July 2025), the story of the Walker Sisters was the one story that got my attention probably more than any of the others.

Richard Baker is in an interesting place, looking back at a prolific body of work while also staring down an uncertain future.  

Baker, who is sitting on the doorstep of 70, had his work featured at a retrospective last weekend at the Folkmoot Center in Waynesville. The event was well attended, largely by people familiar with the artist and his paintings, people who admire his unique style.   

Goosebumps. A slight tear in my eyes.  

Pictured in this week’s column is my most favorite place in the entire universe. The Grand Teton Mountains straddling the Wyoming/Idaho border. I’ve been coming to these ancient peaks since 1992, when I was seven years old and made my first trip West with my family from our native Upstate New York.