The lights dimmed to a hush as Rhonda Vincent stepped to the microphone, mandolin in hand, the crowd already sensing something sacred was about to unfold. Then came the first line of “When the Grass Grows Over Me,” her voice pure and trembling like morning dew on an old gravestone.
THE SONG THAT BLOOMS FROM HEARTACHE: Rhonda Vincent’s Haunting Rendition of “When the Grass Grows…
Read More