My poor family can tell you. I am a collector of junk.
My darling husband is forced to carry bags and bags of driftwood down the beach. 101 more words
“Charlie Stump, the driftwood man, would walk along the river bank, and gather up a bundle — of broken limbs and snags.”
— That’s a verse from a song I tried to write way back in the 1970’s. 2,477 more words