Near the end of her life, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Eudora Welty (1909-2001) still lived in her parents' home in Jackson. Her mother's beloved garden she had helped tend there many years earlier, however, had all but disappeared -- a fact Welty lamented. Today, it has been restored to its former glory, thanks to garden designer and preservationist Susan Haltom and a committed core of volunteers.
Just the other day an age-old myth raised eyebrows at the salon amidst the yellow roses, somewhere near the current issue of Veranda and most definitely surrounded by two beautiful ladies sitting regally on my antique red settee.
Planting seeds for healthy living is a way of life for Lowndes County 4-H Agent Sharon Patrick, especially in her work at the Columbus Air Force Base.
Of all the benefits the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway has delivered to the Golden Triangle's doorstep, the American Wind Symphony Orchestra is surely one of the most unforgettable.
These days a power walk around the block a few days a week just doesn't cut it. Lately the fitness motto seems to be, "Go hard or go home." And with all of the hardcore training routines out there, from at-home DVDs such as P90x and Insanity to group classes like R.I.P.P.E.D. and CrossFit, it's easy to see why.
May 5, 1945, was a typically beautiful spring day in Plzen, Czechoslovakia. The sun shone; flowers bloomed everywhere. But two hostile armies occupied the city. The Second Infantry Division of the U.S. Army were coming in on the southern flank for Allied forces in World War II. Germany held the city, but their resistance was fading.
We humans seem addicted to bestowing a "day" upon almost anything. In June alone, there's Flip a Coin Day, Hug Your Cat Day, Sewing Machine Day and, a personal favorite, International Panic Day. So it should come as no surprise there is such a thing as national Doughnut Day.
Ernest Mast's Homestead Acres is nestled deep in Noxubee County, past vast fields that call up the phrase "God's country." Miles of dirt road bordered by corn and soybeans lead to its white rail fence and a neat ranch-style farmhouse, originally built by Ernest's father.
We live in a place rich with history. Pilgrims come to the South from all over the world just to walk in the shadows of our past. This does not seem strange to us.
I remember my mama's arsenal of hairstyling tools from an early age. When you look at today's innovations, you might think she could as well have been beating two rocks together like a cave woman. Her hair dryer was about as small as a closed fist. It was the most offensive shade of tan, and it buzzed so loudly my daddy couldn't even hear the animals roaring on "Wild Kingdom."
The advent of summer heralds the return of live music to the scenic Columbus Riverwalk. Sounds of Summer, the popular series of free concerts, begins Thursday evening and returns every other Thursday through July 26 (excluding the week of July 4).
Well, the question that everyone wants to know from last week's column is, "Did Ryan and your dad catch any fish?" and "What did you do with them?" I was so excited about my gourmet camp food that I left out any details about why we were on Horn Island in the first place.
There was a time, in the not-so-distant past, when churning an ice cream freezer on the back porch was a summertime ritual. Every strong arm in the family took a turn at the crank, and youngsters in the right place at the right time got to lick the dasher.
It's late afternoon and Jordan Mize's little garden is bathed in the warmth of a low-lying sun. Light glints brilliant through droplets of water clinging to broad leaves and tiny green tomatoes, just coming into the world.
"Moonlight and Magnolias" is the theme of the Columbus Arts Council's gala June 2 at the Rosenzweig Arts Center in downtown Columbus.
Ten years ago, Rick Asherson got his first taste of Willie King's Freedom Creek Festival, that down-home celebration held in a field behind King's humble home in rural Pickens County, Alabama. There, by a cinderblock-and-plank stage under trees strung with lights, blues fans doused in bug spray and sun screen camped in lawn chairs and danced in the dirt when the spirit moved.
Last weekend I decided, on a whim, to join my husband and my dad on one of their saltwater fly fishing trips to the barrier islands off of the Mississippi Gulf Coast. They go on these survival camping trips to Horn Island several times a year, and when they return from their adventure it takes them days to recover from the sunburn, bug bites, chaffing, and general malnourishment and dehydration. Sounds fun, huh?
Little girls grow up way too quickly to suit us, and my niece is no exception to the rule. Recently I was honored to escort her to the makeup counter where she would be introduced to mascara applied the right way, lipstick in a shade worthy of a graduating sixth-grader, and even something to "blush" about, literally.
For generations of Columbians who have only hearsay to know what MSCW (Mississippi State College for Women, now Mississippi University for Women) used to be, Eugenia Summer has a tale of the days when Dr. B.L. Parkinson was president. I think it will amuse, perhaps amaze, you.
Deep in the heart of every writer lurks a voyeur. We are masters of schizophrenic listening. A good writer can participate in a lunch-time conversation while tuning into diners at the next table. He (or she) is an observer of human nature, body language and, most importantly, subtle inflections, the nuances of speech. There is an invisible recorder in the brain, storing away accents and tones.