Home of Brad Willis: writer, traveler, and suburban warrior
It’s a little more than 17 miles of county roads–open fields, farm land, red barns, private air strips, luxury homes, views of the Blue Ridge mountains, moo cows, and lose-yourself hairpin turns–between Campbell’s covered...
My dad taught me many things: how to play in the key of G, how to shave, how to eat four pounds of crab legs without throwing up in public. I can’t assign a...
On any given summer day in this fair suburban neighborhood, one could look out over the expanses of manicured fescue and Bermuda and find day laborers napping under giant sweetgums and oaks. They are...
Our flashlights have batteries. Our lantern has propane. My wife is presently picking up a few more essential items: nonperishables, water, and firewood. Somehow I forgot to put Maker’s on the list. This is...
Several years ago, I was somewhere in Colorado (more than likely Copper or Breckenridge) and standing at the bottom of a run with several friends. We stood in the mountain air and worked on...
My grandparents are country folk, so it was no surprise when they moved from their little home in Springfield, Missouri to an old country community outside of Miller. It sits on the edge of...
On my drives back and forth from Springfield, MO to Columbia, MO this weekend, I realized that the deer population here is a bit out of control. I’m no hunter, but the number of...