Customer Reviews

Slow Road Home

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In Slow Road Home, VA resident Fred First invites us to join him on his journey to discover his home. I'm not talking about a quest of epic proportions here. I'm talking about Fred getting to know his 40 acres, 1 tree at a time. With a naturalist's eye, he writes of symphonies of fireflies in his meadow, and the honor of the wood that shades him from the sun as it lives, and heats his home on its death.

Fred lives the life I aspire to; busy, but not hurried. There are lessons for all of us in his journey. The world, even our suburban backyards, are wondrous places, if only we would slow down to see it.

again and again as i read, i went back to my bookshelf to compare this work with that of annie dillard. fred expresses a similar wisdom tinged with amazed gratitude at finding himself alone and content to record the measure of his days along the winding valleys and hilltops of the blue ridge in floyd county, virginia. my only worry is that others will attempt to literally follow him there with less awareness of the fragility of this remote ecosystem, and so i recommend reading the book and not necessarily visiting (!) in order to experience the beauty of that place, whose remoteness and inaccessibility is intrinsic to its survival.

fred first takes us on a path of his own discovery that parallels the similar paths of others who have explored voluntary simplicity and introspection, leading us toward a closer connection with everyday experiences, finding the joy in shared experiences with a cherished companion, and the quiet peace that comes from solitude in natural surroundings. through images and words fred brings us with him, and we can truly partake of that same wonder, gratitude, and compassion, and recognize the value in simple reflection on nature's bounty, which truly is all around us.

thank you fred, for sharing with us your heartfelt account of your personal geography. may you continue to bring us the same at [...]

Today for lunch I joined a friend I've never met. We walked along a creek with no name under hemlocks in a valley I've never seen. We passed a barn I've only envisioned in painted light upon my screen. The sun I couldn't see glistened on grasses in the field to dry the dew I did not feel. I wasn't there, and yet I was, visiting with Fred on Goose Creek in the mountains of Floyd County.

I'll go there again tomorrow for lunch as I revisit a "Slow Road Home". Won't you come along? We'll visit Ann's Falls, we'll sit a spell under the white pines, we'll wave at the neighbors from the front porch. We'll while away the time as we discuss the important issues of the day, the bumblebees at play, and the hawks upon the wing. We can discuss anything at all as we visit there on the creek with no name along that "Slow Road Home".

A visit to Fred thru a "Slow Road Home" always slows the day, sets the pace to another time, and takes you to another place. The place you've longed for since childhood, a place that brings back the memories of grandparents and more. A time when the constant companion was a single word...Why? Walk a while and listen to another's whys, you may discover the child you left a long time ago, far, far away.
Where else can you feel free to laze in a summer rain, loll in an open field at night to watch the fireflies rise and stars fall, or chase spiders as they glide by? There is a maple on the cover that shelters a house that seems to have been there forever. The house is nestled up to the ridge like you shelter in the covers of a bed. How do I know this? I have seen this house thru the eyes of someone who loves it, and the tree, and the ridge and all it encompasses. You can see it too. Come walk the pages of Fred First's "Slow Road Home"...You never know, we may meet along the road.

There is an old saying that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. In Fred First's case, when he was ready to learn new lessons, he let Nature be his teacher.

What he discovered about himself and his connection to his new home in the Blue Ridge Mountains will strike a familiar chord in everyone who has reached the point in life where our goals leave us unfulfilled.

In Fred's book, Slow Road Home, he discusses finding himself with no purpose in life after he left his position as Physical Therapist.

His wife, Ann, had a job and was supporting them both, and he faced the challenge that many face in these changing times, that of creating an existence which includes a means of earning a living and at the same time discovering a worthwhile purpose.

It becomes apparent as you read this fascinating book, that Fred develops a philosophy for his life as he discovers himself.

It is an account of how he set out to find wonder and meaning in the myriad details of life in his valley and in the long string of apparently random events that led them to this place they call, "Here's Home".

His weblog journal, Fragments from Floyd, becomes a tapestry of his days chronicling his angsts, his sometimes humorous efforts to overcome them, and his epiphanies.

He applies his considerable analytical abilities to the problems he faces, his discoveries about life in the valley along Goose Creek and the bliss he finds observing the infinite details of life on a calm summer day.

He takes us through several turning of the seasons, the loss of a beloved canine companion, and the tenderly funny incidents that make up married life on Goose Creek. At the very least, this book could be considered a record of his love for the place he and Ann call home.

For the rest of us, the greatest value in Fred's book may lie in the example he sets in so many ways of observing life closely, working to understand what he has observed, while discovering in himself the strength to persevere and share his discoveries with others.

Inspiring, evocative, and moving, with many moments of dry humor. This book satisfies in many ways.