The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent gardener. This is South Mississippi. My name is Bachman. I'm an Extension horticulture specialist.
Some people are terrified of clowns, but they have never scared me much, well, except for a moment or two in childhood. Mama was determined I would not be afraid of them.
Now that we're finally into September, I think many of our landscape plants are rejoicing in anticipation of the (hopefully) coming milder temperatures as much as I am.
The gardens of my childhood spill over in my mind, growing still today thick with old-fashioned roses and their delicate pink petals decorating the sides of Mawmaw Bell's little red brick house on the hillside where I played.
The current tropical systems swirling around are causing more homeowners to wonder about how to deal with weather-related damage in the landscape.
Mama made candied apples and cupcakes all afternoon, and as I licked the frosting from the beaters, I thought surely Heaven must smell just like her kitchen.
I do not pretend to know much about the retail business.
If you had told me even a few months ago that I would be in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, I probably would have rolled my eyes at you while sipping iced tea from my front porch.
I make a point every week to walk around our plant trial beds at the Coastal Research and Extension Center in Biloxi to see how everything is growing.
The first one I acquired from a dusty corner of a flea market in the French Quarter of New Orleans for only a few dollars.
We are reminded every now and then that the veterans of World War II are leaving us.
Since this is August, we are now officially in the dog days of summer.
Why do we wrestle with who we are?
In the past, I've expressed my love for chili peppers -- the hotter the better.
Because this is the first week of August, we can rest assured that it's going to be hot in our Mississippi gardens and landscapes.
Joan Crawford, eat your heart out!
I remember the feel of Mama's heartbeat and the creak of the rocking chair as she held me close, humming some old gospel hymn. When she held me close, I was home.
When the summer season heats up starting in July, I really like seeing Rudbeckias in our Mississippi landscapes.
In the park one Sunday, I was sharing coffee and gossip with a neighbor who's a waiter in a French restaurant.
Daddy won it from an auction one Sunday televised on our big console television while Mama, my brothers, and Uncle Wayne sat around the living room cracking jokes about Jerry Lewis's hairstyle.
5. Pulitzer finalist Martin to deliver reading Thursday ENTERTAINMENT