"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."
"It's an amazing thing to watch a lizard fold a moth into its mouth, like a sword swallower who specializes in umbrellas. "
Elizabeth McCracken, American author
Two gift books sat on the kitchen counter -- "Hillbilly Elegy," by J.D. Vance, and "The Stranger in the Woods," by Michael Finkel.
The mornings are cool enough, shady enough and enjoyable enough to work with the flowers and tomatoes, even if you're not a morning person.
Leaving town by way of Waverly Ferry Road, near Plymouth Road, down near Water's Truck & Tractor, I curved left toward the Highway 82 West on-ramp. It's my preferred way of returning to the Prairie, avoiding traffic and stop lights; not to mention it's much more interesting.
As good fortune would have it, my walking partner, Shirley, and I encountered a gentleman at Plymouth Bluff who was outfitted in dust-colored clothing, a vest full of pockets, and looking altogether like a National Geographic "birder."
It was a beautiful day, not too hot, windy, or humid to enjoy working in the yard.
I write on the subjects of birds and bees but this week I thought I'd infringe on sports editor Adam Minichino's area -- basketball. Something I know little or nothing about.
Several neighbor ladies sat on the Prairie porch enjoying a beautiful Sunday afternoon while admiring masses of butterflies on blossoming trees.
Sam asked if I was ready for him to cut the grass. I had asked that he save the area on a little hill that runs from the house down to the lake.
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