Another month of spring lay before us. Many years it feels like there is no spring at all; the days change quickly from winter to summer.
Our guest once lived in Starkville, having gone to college there. Later he continued his stay while working for the Extension Service. He moved away from the South for another job, came back again, then moved away again. And so it was, he came back for an extended visit but a short stay.
In the cool of the morning, a light breeze caused the leaves in the trees to flutter ever so slightly. The soft morning light filtered through the branches. Flowers were in bloom, pinks, yellows and blues. The grass had been cut, as had the fields, so I could see all the way to the lake.
There in the woods, eyes were shining back at me from the light of the flashlight when I was looking for Harry and Wilhelmina, the cats.
Only 80 some-odd days until the official start of summer and for us Southerners, summer will come even sooner. Outside my sunroom windows trees are every color of green, the yellow swamp irises surround the lake waving like flags in the wind, tiny leaves peek out from the crepe myrtles, while daisies abound, and the purple irises look 3 feet tall. Snap dragons from last year are overflowing in window boxes as are a few petunias.
The oddest thing happens every year about this time. Besides the torrential rains, the Pekin ducks come waddling up to the house.
There's an old black and white photograph when I'm about 2 or 3 years old, glued in a faded album. Mother must have taken the photograph because my father is squatting beside me as I hold my Easter basket.
It's midway through the Lenten season and not too late to join in. Some people chose to stop an activity while some chose to start one. Lent is the 40 days before Easter, not counting Sundays. It's a time of giving something up or taking something on as a means of reflection and repentance.
The day started cool, with a gusty wind, and gradually warmed as the sun shone overhead. Sam suggested a drive, which meant heading to the Tombigbee River spillway on the west bank. I was eager to see the area since the last time the river raged and the grassy hill beside the spillway was covered deep in floodwater.
You know that little pooch you get in your stomach as you age, well I just learned it's not your stomach at all.
What if I told you that you could fill a whole big bag full of books of all shapes, sizes and subjects and you'd only have to pay $5. If you're a reader then it would be terrific, but even if you weren't a reader but you knew a reader, it would still be fabulous.
Last week rainstorms rolled through the area flooding rivers, lakes and creeks. Naturally, like a snow day, we decided to take a look-see.
There are some words that are just fun to say. As I drove from the Prairie through the Southside, I said the words out loud so as to enjoy them rolling across my tongue and to help myself call to mind what I was seeing.
Stepping outside at twilight, a whishing and whirling of hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of blackbirds could be heard as the birds were twirling across the sky. For a moment they may rest in the treetops or light on the ground, nosing under dry leaves.
Why would anyone want to steal dead birds? It was the hook that grabbed author Kirk Wallace Johnson's attention. It was the hook that grabbed mine. Johnson's book "The Feather Thief" introduced a world I knew nothing about.
There we were standing in the woods, surrounded by half-eaten and mostly-eaten bodock (bois d'arc) balls. Something had a party.
Sometimes the house feels like it's holding a chill. I add layer upon layer until I think I could hardly bend over, but still there's a chill.
There's the Bobcat "One tough animal"- advertised as a compact, hardworking construction machine. There's the Sebastopol basketball team's bobcat mascot; then there's the bobcat that was spotted across the road from my driveway.
Few things are so calming as sitting in a sun lit room with two cats tightly curled into a ball by your side.
While the guys were watching marathon football, I was reading articles about Three Kings Day, a celebration unknown to me. It started with the Parade magazine in the Sunday paper about an American actor married to an Argentine actress.
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