Walking through the farmers’ market around lunchtime today, my ears caught a faint whiff of the blues. It was coming from up ahead. I craned my neck to see. There were two guys making music. One wailed on a plaintive harmonica and sang about his woes. The other fella kept his head down, playing guitar with his hands and a percussion rig with his feet. Funny thing was, their songs were sad but they made a whole lot of people smile.
A Portland widow armed only with a frying pan held off the British navy
Sometimes the sight of a tree is enough to make you stop in your tracks
Local brews are a bonus at restaurant with worthy food
Talking with your kids about ethics and morality in the age of Trump