Longer views and longer days.

#013

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like getting mail. I mean, I’m sure somewhere out there in the world there’s that one person who is wishy-washy about mail. For the rest of us, it never gets old. This week was a good mail week.

I finally ordered Will Warasila’s 2022 book, Quicker than Coal Ash. Listen, I am a true believer in the power of the photobook. I am convinced that, when done well, there is no greater way to offer, to present a body of work. This work and this book are quite simply, remarkable. Beautifully paced and designed, it closes with an exceptional essay from the Alexa Dilworth that left me sitting in silence for a good while.

I cannot recommend this photobook enough. It’s an edition of 500 and I hope, like me, you’re lucky enough to get a copy. After all, you like getting mail don’t you?

Also in this week’s mail, I got the latest edition of the West Virginia Mine Wars Museum’s Journal, which features a photograph I made of Mary Lou Wright of Algoma, West Virginia holding her daddy's - Mr. John William "Jack" Wright - dinner bucket. (I wrote about this in #003 in February here.)

I appreciate being able to make pictures for national and international publications*, but making pictures of where I'm from for an institution rooted in where I'm from to be circulated amongst the people I'm from, well you just can't find the words for what that means.

I’m grateful to the staff of the WVMWM for inviting me on this journey and for trusting me with this work. We are nothing without where and who we come from.

*Editors, I am still interested in working with you!

Spring means coffee on the porch in the cool morning air and listening to birdsong and the barking of foxes. Spring means the woods are coming alive again. Spring means hoodies in the morning and short sleeves by lunch.

Spring means catching up on chores and outside projects. Remind me to tell you about the 100+ year-old dogtrot tobacco barn-turned-cabin we’re hoping to renovate and offer as guest housing for folks who want to come visit.

Spring means turkey season and for the first time in my 50 years, I hunted turkey. Our season is West Virginia starts a bit later than surrounding states (April 21), but I was on my hind end at 5:26 a.m. waiting for the sun to come up. No birds were harmed that day, but I heard a few gobblers in the holler below me. There’s still time.

Spring means the return of the eastern box turtle, Terrapene carolina carolina. For the last two years, my wife has spotted the first turtle of the year. As of now, there’s no trophy or title, but that could change. We often see dozens of these every year on our few acres. I know this because I document them with zeal and am able to identify their unique characteristics and patterns. There are worse things to geek out about.

Spring means spring cleaning. Recently, my dad cleaned my great-grandfather, Millard’s, .410 shotgun. We both shot it at my uncle’s house last week. I don’t recall much about Millard, but I know he was descended from a line of Mays who settled in Pond Creek, Kentucky more than 200 years ago. I’m glad we have this shotgun in the family.

I’m glad for spring.

---

I’m still reading Screaming with the Cannibals by Lee Maynard.
I’m listening to the new Bon Iver album.
I’m watching the Appalshop film offerings on YouTube.
I’m working on being a better neighbor and steward of our land.

Thank you, as always, for reading this newsletter. If you find it worthwhile, please consider sharing it with someone. If you’re not a subscriber, consider subscribing. I will always make this newsletter free, but your support by being a paid subscriber sure helps!

Roger