Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: Making of a family
This is the way I remember the story. One day a young girl passed through the work room. She was wearing a military uniform; she was so slight a small breeze would surely blow her away. I wondered about the uniform so I asked.
Possumhaw: A Little Poetry Book
Valentine wishes to you, a life of love and laughter. Valentine’s Day brings memories of poems we’ve all heard over a lifetime, “Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you.” The original poem is attributed to Joseph Johnson compiled in an English nursery rhyme book titled “Gammer Gurton’s Garland 1784.”
Possumhaw: The eyes have it
It’s been almost two years since we started mask wearing. I wondered if we’d move about like zombies unable to convey pleasantries by facial expressions. Could it be possible we may smile with our eyes? For months I wasn’t sure.
Possumhaw: Of ladybugs and beetles
On the west side of the Prairie house there’s a bedroom that is rarely used. Though it is still a bedroom, it serves as a sewing room, an ironing room, occasionally a reading room and an extra closet room. Oh yes, and there is a clothes drying rack against the west window where the sun is strong on a sunny day.
Possumhaw: Doing your best
There has rarely been a time when I completed all the things I wanted to accomplish on any particular day. For as long as I can remember, probably dating back to my school years, I’ve made a to-do list.
Possumhaw: Just a simple task
The days grew shorter, the weather more inclement, and never-ending sports ran on T.V. A little sports viewing is a good thing, but after a while you need to get up, move around and find some productive activity.
Possumhaw: When they work; when they don’t
Benjamin Franklin also said, “But on the whole; tho’ I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not attempted it.”
Possumhaw: Body, mind, soul
It’s that time for New Year’s Resolutions. Even if you don’t make them or keep them, it’s something to think about.
Possumhaw: O Christmas tree
Many a Christmas tree at the Prairie house have come from the woods where we collected the most perfect native Christmas tree. At one time, when more of the family lived at home, the tree was tremendous.
Possumhaw: Life in the wild
There in the pyracantha shrub sat a mockingbird. The bird was dove gray and black. The tree was full of glossy green leaves surrounded by red berries. The scene looked like a Christmas card.
Possumhaw: One prairie to another
Our little bit of the Black Prairie here in Lowndes County starts in southern Tennessee and runs south through eastern Mississippi, then swings east through Alabama. Its length is about 310 miles and at its widest 25 miles.
Possumhaw: Nature abounds
Oh what a beautiful day it was. The temperature was quite cool, but the sun was shining. Sam was trying to get in a day of fishing between our guests arriving and leaving. This year our company came in shifts so everyone could see and spend time with family and friends they had not seen in awhile, some for two years or more.
Possumhaw: Up side down side
Seems like everything we do these days is like from one end to the other with no in between. It’s like Simon says: stop, then go, then stop, okay you can go again; no stop. Some establishments you enter and everyone wears a mask.
Possumhaw: Of earth and sky
Because the dark of night came earlier last week, I was walking in the darkness across the lawn to feed Hatcher, the rabbit, and to close the gate to the perennial garden to prevent any critters attempting to feed on my goldfish.
Possumhaw: Declutter and donate
The temperatures pulled a fast one on us, and suddenly it turned cold. By the last week of October, we were already having mornings in the thirty and forty degree range. I had anticipated wearing summer dresses with cardigans and leggings for fall when more like winter showed up.
Possumhaw: A night of hilarity
The opening sentence of Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s novel “Paul Clifford” was written in 1830 and it goes like this, “It was a dark and stormy night, the rain fell in torrents…except at occasional intervals…” The sentence rambles on and is considered by most the worst of all literary openings. On the other-hand the first seven words have been copied, argued, mocked, parodied, and enjoyed by many -— the children of East John Street included.
Possumhaw: Season of sights and sounds
Along with the season, the landscape in the Prairie changes. Beyond the lake dam the field is a cover of white like a blanket. Some call it a southern snow, but we know it as a cotton field. It’s not unusual to see cars pull over and a family tumbling out for photographs. No doubt the picture will be sent to others or find itself on a Christmas card.
Possumhaw: Once upon a mushroom
All fungi are edible. Some fungi are only edible once. —Sir Terry Pratchett, humorist, satirist, author (1948-2015) As I write what’s going on in our little
Possumhaw: Scurry furry fellow
Every day near the curve in the driveway the fox squirrel sits on his haunches. If I stop, he sits there staring as I stare back at him. I wonder if he has an acorn in his mouth but I can’t quite tell. I wonder if he wonders if that’s a coffee cup in my hand. As long as I’m still, he is still. If I move, he scampers across the mowed grass to the woods.
Possumhaw: One foot then another
Once upon a time we had a neighborhood of walkers. We walked in the heat and in the cold with an agreement we’d walk as long as temperatures were above 24 and less than 100 degrees.
Deputies searching for two suspects in Sunday double homicide
June 29, 2025
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