There are so many things I miss about Thanksgiving now that the light in my little stone cottage on Dykes Chapel Road has dimmed.
Well, that's according to Groucho Marks. This much I know: The books we read while children stay with us our whole lives.
One of my favorites is "Frog and Toad Are Friends," written and illustrated by Arnold Lobel and published in 1970.
Birthdays are the best!
Mine is this month, and I am ecstatic to be celebrating it with the best of friends in one of my favorite cities in the world, Washington, D.C.
My mind is a cauldron of memories bubbling over, especially appropriate for Halloween. Who does not remember his or her favorite costumes from childhood?
We need more simple acts of random kindness.
I was taught first by my daddy, a proud veteran, then by my elementary school teachers that the flag is a symbol of everything American and should be treated as such.
The fair is coming to town!
There has always been more than little bit of Peter Pan in me.
Southerners know it all too well, the lush green vine that coils, winds and climbs over everything in its path from trees to houses -- kudzu.
All dogs go to Heaven, and you will never convince me otherwise.
The peacock rests in shards of broken glass.
What has the magic power to transport us through space and time back to a moment, whether happy or sad?
Mark Twain might have said it best: "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." Well, Mark, lately it's beginning to matter.
I have always heard you can never go home again. Well, that's simply not true, although I do understand the more subtle meaning.
When I was a little boy, Mama told me stories of sights and wonders she had seen. Still today, those stories flood my mind with curiosity and fascination, normal meeting paranormal.
It's hot as Hades in Mississippi, and that's even in the shade with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade.
It's hard to argue with a fire-breathing dragon.
Summer and homemade ice cream seem to go perfectly together.
I awoke this morning to the unmistakable aroma of sausage frying. To my surprise and great delight, there were also biscuits rising in the oven.
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