Phil the Dog, the Conclusion

(Editor’s Note—Today’s Welcome column presents the conclusion of the talking dog story begun here on Tuesday. In case you missed Part One, you can catch up by clicking here..) “Phil started this fire,” he said grimly, “he pulled the blanket from the kitchen through...

Phillip

Good morning from Whiskey Creek, where most of the snow has gone to snow heaven, (our aquifer, sixty feet directly below our windmill…I guess that would be the direction of hell), the dogs have stopped scratching their heads about the edible white stuff that steals...

Pick Pockets

I enjoyed reading Cliff’s column this month; he was mentioning all the things he finds in his pockets when digging for his car keys; the capo, tuner, and guitar picks. I always carry picks in the pocket of my jeans too; you never know when a need may arise. Many of...

Phillip

Good morning from Whiskey Creek, where most of the snow has gone to snow heaven, (our aquifer, sixty feet directly below our windmill…I guess that would be the direction of hell), the dogs have stopped scratching their heads about the edible white stuff that steals...

Pickin’ Nits and Grinnin’

The awesome Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Just wrapped up here in the SF Bay Area. In most cases, “awesome” is an overused or misused modifier (“That’s an awesome smoothie, man!”), but it fits in this case. Hundreds of thousands pack into Golden Gate Park to see 50+ acts...

Pickin’ on the Parkway

Matt Coleman sent me an email saying he needed a guitar player for a fundraiser for the American River parks, and it sounded like fun so I said yes and I put it on the calendar and then I looked at it a little closer, and it turns out we were playing at the crossroads...