The moon is so bright this morning, I could pound nails in the dark without striking a finger. I just fired-up the old wood stove to help dispel the chill from the early morning desert air. It’s an old coal potbelly stove, the kind they used to use on train cars and railway stations all across America. Who knows where this old stove may have been? Could have gone all the way to New York City back in 1943, where a tenderhearted train master welcomed in an old hobo to share in a warm nip of rum on a cold winter’s night. Who knows where this old stove may have been?
