A week ago, around every bend a field of cotton edged the road. The crops were defoliated, so stalks stood brown holding fluffy white cotton, like cotton candy on a stick. The fields are beautiful, lying in row after row as far as you can see.
"There are some four million different kinds of animals and plants in the world. Four million different solutions to the problems of staying alive."
Sir David Attenborough, broadcaster and naturalist
The cracks in the ground are so wide you could put a nickel in sideways. We've been running the yard sprinklers off well water for the last couple of weeks. For the entire summer season, we didn't see dry grass or tree leaves curling, not until now. A person could get use to no watering. Sam mostly mans the sprinklers, aiming them over the grass.
Those few cool days we had were intoxicating and the comfort of gardening was a rush; likened to a movie trailer to make you want more. I did, I do. I'm ready for fall.
Marv Ashman and his wife Betsy live in Petaluma, California. Marv reads Possumhaw and occasionally sends a comment, or occasionally a tale of his own. Turns out Marv worked for an optical dispensary for 33 years where, like Sam, Marv acquired more than a few optical stories. In Marv's early days, he attended an optical school, only to be told perhaps his talents lay elsewhere. They, of course, were wrong.
Wilhelmina stood at the door on her hind legs looking wistfully through the glass.
Pretty much near every month for some 30 years I sat in a rickety chair at a handmade table, kicked the table leg back for stability and shared a meal with John Robert Arnold, as did many in the Sessums community.
Last week I stood outside the Lowndes County Courthouse with about 100 people waiting for the cosmic phenomenon, the solar eclipse.
"14 'Healthy' Foods That Are Actually Bad for You" caught my attention. The article's author was Jennifer Cohen and the website was Forbes. As a healthy vegetarian, I knew I'd ace the list. I was wrong
"God wove a web of loveliness, of clouds and stars and birds, but made not anything at all so beautiful as words."
Anna Hempstead Branch, American poet (1875-1937)
There was a professor at The W whose name was Smith. Professor David Smith put a great emphasis on words. In fact, he terrorized students with the promise of brutal punishments in the form of bad grades if one misspelled, or misused, or placed little value in vocabulary.
The moon was at the half and glowed so bright its reflection on the truck's window shone like a flashlight. I was outside under the pear tree waiting for Harry, the cat, to zoom by so I could grab him. It's a game we play most nights. While waiting, I picked up pears dropped by the squirrels and tucked them in the hem of my shirt.
It was early in the morning as I sat in my "writing room," Sam left well before dawn for fishing. Pachelbel's "Canon in D" played softly in the background while the kittens batted one another and scurried under chair and table playing chase.
Who doesn't want to live better? Since the column on sauntering a few folks have shared ways they enjoy nature and its restorative benefits.
My friend and I met down by the Riverwalk along the Tombigbee River. We had already agreed this was to be a leisurely walk.
Passing by the raised beds, I noticed weeds popping up so I stopped, plucked a few, and flung them into the grass. Either Sam would mow over them or perhaps they would take root in the bare spots, but probably not.
Back at the public library, I slid the book off the shelf.
The library seemed a bit formidable as I pulled the heavy door open. I stepped inside, surveyed the room, and moved toward the large desk that looked like a help station. I love libraries and respect them.
Often, I am amazed at how much the world is changing, but none more so than last week when I stopped at the gas station for gas and a cup of Southern Pecan coffee.
My neighbor E.H. and I were nearing home where we saw what looked like an odd-shaped purple shopping bag hanging high in a tree.
Evelyn Lantz walks through the door of Jubilations Coffee House, the place where I was to meet up with West Point's Golden Girls.
"Well, Evelyn, my old friend, I didn't know you were a Golden Girl."
Page 1 of 19 next »
Search articles back to February 2009 with the form above.