Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: Only your hairdresser knows…
My hairdresser shared an interesting observation last week — something I’d never thought of. I’ve been to the hairdresser twice since mid-March, and it was time to snip off an unruly end or two.
Possumhaw: Living the farm life
The longer we stay home sheltering the more I start feeling like a farm girl. If there had to be a sheltering time, spring and summer seasons were good choices. The grass gets mowed more often, the fields get bushhogged regularly.
Possumhaw: Of fowl and fawn
Truly, for all the troubles we’ve had as a country and community, there’s still a beautiful world out there. While sheltering at home we’ve built flower beds and tended to them better than ever because we’ve had time on our hands and dirt under our fingernails.
Possumhaw: Hook, line and sinker
Either fish or cut bait, means committing to doing something productive or step aside and stop wasting time. Summer is here, it’s hot and muggy and we’re still in the midst of a pandemic, but there’s one productive activity that gets you outdoors and possibly nets food and fun for you and the family.
Possumhaw: Save the fish; protect the turtle
From the breakfast table I could see Harry, the boy cat, peering through the picket fence into the perennial garden. You would think by now whenever Harry is transfixed on something, I would check it out. Instead, I finished my breakfast.
Possumhaw: His banner over me is love
The day passed hardly without my notice when on June 14, I opened a devotional reading titled “Rallying to the Flag.” The American flag that reigned over my mailbox had been whipped to smithereens by the wind.
Possumhaw: Expect the unexpected
Out came the bicycles, having been in storage for about six to eight years. Sam aired up the tires and checked over the bikes’ mechanics. They were maybe a little dusty and a little rusty. We wiped them down and decided to take a short spin.
Possumhaw: Come, sit a spell
Once upon a time before we could hold computers in the palm of our hand, I saw an ad in the Oxford American Magazine. The ad showed John Grisham sitting in a chair with a book-sized computer on his lap. Grisham, his chair, and his computer were in the middle of a spacious green field.
Possumhaw: Mystery in the making
Gazing out the sunroom window I noticed movement in the garden’s raised bed. Just over the top of the railroad tie, something brown went around and around. I stared for minutes, watching and thinking what it might be. My thoughts ran mostly to squirrels.
Possumhaw: The last five nothings
The art of doing nothing is really about doing something to take care of yourself, but because it’s all about you it may feel a little like doing nothing.
Possumhaw: Nothing lasts forever
It was 1998 and life was busy, often hectic, when I stepped into a small bookstore off the cobblestone street in Clinton, Mississippi. There I discovered “The Art of Doing Nothing,” by Veronique Vienne. I was intrigued by the title and the beautiful cover. I like to judge a book by its cover, so I bought it.
Possumhaw: Save for mothers, who would be here?
“Mrs. Sharp’s Traditions” initial printing was in 1990; the reprint and revision in 2001. I had the good fortune to find a copy. Page 129 describes Mother’s Day traditions.
Possumhaw: Make yourself at home
The porch had been pressure washed, furniture cleaned and plants arranged. I invited a friend over for coffee. In advance I directed her to proceed to the back porch when she arrived. There she would find two Adirondack chairs facing each other from a good 8 feet apart.
Possumhaw: Keeping it simple
The sun is peaking in and out from behind the clouds. It’s a lovely day, though a wee bit chilly. The roses are putting on a spectacular show.
Possumhaw: It takes a village
Searching for quotes on bravery, self-sacrifice, maybe courage, I stumbled into the Derbyshire village of Eyam, England, in the year 1665. English villages fascinate me as I now have a friend living in one and follow a blogger living in another — quaint cobblestone streets, outdoor markets, small brick homes with flowering window boxes and bucolic pastures, home to grazing sheep.
Possumhaw: Finding a quiet shelter
The coronavirus has given a whole new meaning to spring cleaning.
Possumhaw: Old man in the ER
Why I didn’t think of it before, I don’t know. Actually, I thought Philip would be retired by now.
Possumhaw: What you can, while you can
It would be so easy to pull up a chair and sit by the window and do nothing all day long except watch bluebirds fly in and out of the bluebird box or watch swallowtail butterflies flit here and there on the wild cherry tree.
Possumhaw: Safe and sound at home
If ever there was a good season to draw close to home, this would have to be it. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, the clover multiplies, the birds sing, the bees buzz. Dandelions open fully in the mornings.
Possumhaw: All about life and honeybees
There’s more about honeybees I don’t know than I do know. That’s a phrase we use a lot here at the Bardwell abode. Not the honeybee part but the what we don’t know part
Four local soccer teams place at state and regional tournaments
June 25, 2025
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