Brendan O'Donnell grew up in Staten Island, New York, and now calls Latah County, Idaho his home. A graduate of New Saint Andrews College, a writer for Populi, a deacon at Trinity Reformed Church, and the husbandman of a mess of pigs, his chief joys are his wife, his children, and his endlessly surprising Lord. When he cares to share them, other shards of thought and various photos show up on his blog and on Twitter.
If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.
The planing had cleaned up the splintery, aged faces of the wood and the old-growth pine boards gleamed in the peculiar California sunlight pouring through the shop windows.
Dispatch from Idaho: Shooting the Hog
Sighting him in again, I heard Wendell Berry’s drawl in my ears: “…one of the firm laws of hog killing was never to make them squeal. If they squealed after you shot them, you had done a bad job. You had hurt them.”
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