I love these seven words from our memories that are hardly used unless you have been lucky enough to eavesdrop on a conversation between two or three Southern belles from another time. Old in wisdom, but young at heart, these women’s mothers rode in carriages along brick city streets. Listen up, because the words these matriarchs in tweed suits, pearls and arched brows drop are the ones too special to be forgotten.
Finally, spring! After such a difficult winter, it seems the world is filled with promise and truly ready for rebirth.
Webster’s Dictionary defines “foundation” as “an institution supported by an endowment or an undergarment worn to shape the contours of the body.” But women near and far know the foundation I speak of will be that flesh-toned cosmetic we just can’t live without. It is used to even out the complexion and, quite frankly, is where all makeup begins.
During World War II my dad purchased a small silver case in India. One side has a crude etching of India-Bombay, Delhi and Calcutta, the Taj Mahal on the other side. Dad was well known for buying crafts from neighborhood children; they flocked to our door with their wares. Dad certainly would have purchased a small silver case from a street child. I wonder about that child.
Spring has arrived with its vivid display of color and that has brought a question. Which of our common flowers are native to this area? That is not a question I can address from the view of a botanist, but I can address it as a historian. There are a number of early accounts that describe the flora of the Golden Triangle.
The Black Death struck Europe in the 14th century, killing hundreds of millions of people.
I know little about fish or fishing, but I know fisherman like to go for rainbow trout, a good fish to have at the end of your line or to have in your frying pan.
Once upon a time, I was a Catholic. The churches were beautiful then. They were cool and dark, filled with flickering candles, the aromas of incense and burning wax, and life-sized statues of saints. I loved those statues, and, in the spring, placed small bouquets of pink roses at their plaster feet.
The garden has been tilled. We mixed in sand left over from a construction job to loosen up the prairie clay.
The heist movie is a Hollywood standard, so when a real heist is made, it is necessary for those telling about the real heist to compare it to the movie versions. Scott Andrew Selby and Greg Campbell have repeatedly done this in “Flawless: Inside the Largest Diamond Heist in History “(Union Square Press). They repeatedly refer to the 2001 remake “Ocean’s Eleven” when telling the story of the 2003 burglary of an office called the Diamond Center in the heart of the Diamond District in Antwerp.
Some animals like to sport bright colors, as if they want to be seen. Others favor drab colors, as if they want to blend in and avoid recognition. There must be advantages to both strategies. Soldiers used to sport bright red clothing in the field, and now tend to go with grey and olive blotches, if they are in forest, and beige spotty patterns if they are on sand.
I know I’m too stupid to have a computer, and I really don’t care; but if I want to keep one finger in the world I have to have one.
Whoever said making up was hard to do? It’s a cinch, especially with all of the makeup brushes available now.
Mississippi is in the national news, again. Sometimes it seems that we only get press for embarrassing things, like being one of the fattest states, or the least literate.
Last week Marion asked: “What is the oldest surviving house in Columbus?”
I love the concept of saving daylight. It makes me think of that old Jim Croce song, “Time In A Bottle.” Both are lovely ideas, an odd mixing of magic and miracle.
Buttercups are popping up everywhere on the Southside. Okay, buttercups are not exclusive to my neck of the woods and are, in fact, beginning to bloom all over the South, from my mama’s little country roadside in my hometown of Richton to my old stomping grounds all over Jackson.
She is, quite simply, the personification of class. She doesn’t need to shout to be heard. When she speaks, people intuitively listen.
“I once was lost But now I’m found.” “Amazing Grace,” by John Newton I can get lost anywhere. I have no sense of direction.
We had an owl emergency in our neighborhood last weekend. My neighbor, “Farmer” Greg, found an injured bird on his property in Artesia.