Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: A grateful heart
A bluebird has settled in the water tray. I call the saucers that fit under a large clay pot “water trays,” because I fill them with water and a couple of medium sized rocks for the birds to stand on.
Possumhaw: The chores of fall
It was another day of trying to keep the falling leaves off the porch and out of the gutters. Cleaning out the gutters always causes my heart to flutter.
Possumhaw: Change is in the air
If you live in the South, you know the weather is predictably unpredictable. With the threat of a freeze, we prepared the greenhouse and the well house and just about everything we could think of.
Possumhaw: A season of change
By October 2, three fourths of the year had passed. On election day 85% of the year is gone, leaving 54 days to enjoy the rest of 2023.
Possumhaw: Old man on the dock
Out on the dock there’s a Great Blue Heron. The heron is a beautiful bird. The bird book says they are 46 inches, but I believe they are much more.
Possumhaw: Moths or butterflies
Another beautiful morning on the porch. I settled into the brown framed porch chair, the one with the matching brown woven seat and back. As soon as I sat down, I saw a furry brown thing moving along the armrest.
Possumhaw: Morning has broken
Wilhelmina and I had stepped out onto the porch and into the cool of the morning. The fisherman had left hours earlier before dawn.
Possumhaw: The land of cotton
The air looked so thick I decided against taking a walk across the fields to watch the cotton harvester. I could hear the machine but couldn’t see the machine for the dust had settled in the air.
Possumhaw: Long lived Magnolia
Down the road I noticed a stand of magnolia trees. These magnolias looked different from the one we have in our front yard.
Possumhaw: The Parsley Worm
Last week I noticed a caterpillar was consuming my parsley, the one planted in a flowerpot outside the garage door.
Possumhaw: Going, going, gone
Nature is so mesmerizing; there are days it is hard to take it all in.
Possumhaw: Of birds and butterflies
Awh, and then came the rain after what seemed like months without a drop of rain anywhere. The fields around the Prairie had begun to look parched and withered.
Possumhaw: Another day in prairie paradise
If asked, I wouldn’t trade anything for living in the Prairie. Today, you can look out across fields and see cotton growing, dried corn stalks standing, cows grazing and tall grasses swaying.
Possumhaw: One August morning
The man of the house left at an unbelievable hour headed for one or two of Mississippi’s famous crappie fishing lakes.
Possumhaw: Fleeting of summer
Identifying with the writings of Gladys Taber in her book “Stillmeadow Daybook,” Here shares her thoughts of the August garden.
Possumhaw: Dog days of August
Another beautiful not-so-hot morning on the porch. A slow breeze swept through the oak tree causing the leaves to tremble and the Spanish moss to sway back and forth.
Possumhaw: Birds of a feather
It’s hard to say exactly what’s going on with the weather this summer. The air is steamy. Grasses and fields should be dry, dying, with deep earthen cracks.
Possumhaw: Cicadas & moths, oh my!
The morning started out warm, somewhere in the seventies, it was quite comfortable.