The Quiet Holler

05/05/2026

Mercy. When the stones turned to roses. A new post.

Mercy

The woman knelt in the dust.

The righteous hurled rocks.

But the stones turned to roses.

She flinched as falling petals seared her skin.

For even mercy can wound when thrown by hands that meant to harm.

They stood over her with empty hands.

And suddenly

no one in the crowd

knew what to do with mercy.

— Debbie Finch

The Quiet Holler

05/05/2026

Laying Hands. The power of connection.

A gathering close, where no one carries it alone

04/23/2026

A new post, Hands that Tend and the Sounds of the Whippoorwill. If you haven't heard that lonesome cry, take a listen here.

and the sound of the Whippoorwill

03/12/2026

Just when I thought it was time to move the firewood off the porch, here we go again. Brrrr!

03/11/2026

A hawk crossed my path three times in two days. Then I found something unexpected on the glass door of my old house.
It made me wonder about the old mountain idea of reading the signs. Debbie

Twice yesterday, a hawk swooped low across the road in front of my truck.

03/10/2026

A new post. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts and comments. I am grateful. ❤️

The Hour of Silence

03/09/2026

A short clip of our weekend in the Southern Appalachian Mountains including the first snake sighting, the greening of the mountain, and the huge earth worm we found in the garden.

Scenes from the weekend in Appalachia. First snake sighting, huge earth worm, and the greening of the mountains.

03/04/2026

Last night's moon over The Quiet Holler.

03/04/2026

A new post from The Quiet Holler.

I keep hearing people talk about “the others.” And I keep wondering when we decided their lives mattered less than ours.

02/26/2026

It rained most of the day in The Quiet Holler. Not a hard rain — just the steady kind that settles into the soil and lingers in the air. Winter hasn’t quite let go, but something softer is stirring.

I stood at the stove with strawberries from somewhere south, letting them simmer down into jam. The whole kitchen smelled like June. It felt like a small defiance of the gray — a reminder that seasons turn, even when they take their time.

Recipe at Link

— Debbie Finch
The Quiet Holler 🍓
jam

It rained most of the day in The Quiet Holler. Not a hard rain — just the steady kind that settles into the soil and lingers in the air. Winter hasn’t quite let go, but something softer is stirring. I stood at the stove with strawberries from somewhere south, letting them simmer down into jam. T...