The soot of Pennsylvania's finest Anthracite fills the air as it burns in a hot stone constructed oven. The sound of glowing wrought iron clangs onto the horn of an anvil as a heavy hammer pounds down forming horseshoes for the Plowman that sows corn in the village.
A dying art that little know today as the Blacksmith is one in a few that is still willing to rise and shine early in the morning only to get his hands dirty.
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