This morning, my friend Greg asked, "Have you seen that folk artist down past Sherwood?"
"Why yes, I have," I said. "I've seen his work and compound grow over the years I've lived in Sewanee since I drive to Birmingham the back way."
And now I don't have to drive to Birmingham to enjoy his work any time I want to. Thanks to Gay, this insect of welded nails, railroad spike, and corrugated metal has nested in its rightful home.
A merry Christmas for us both!
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