Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: Things that matter
Just inside the door of the Missionary Baptist Church I saw a white man to the far left, so I turned right. I didn’t want us to “clump up,” so I asked a beautiful young woman with long eyelashes if anyone was sitting next to her.
Possumhaw: Dunnarts, bandicoots and wombats
Signs pointed to raccoons having returned to the Prairie house. There was the day a small, empty, well-washed plastic container of crab salad had been lifted from the recycle bin and left on the porch under an Adirondack chair. Disappointing for sure for the raccoon.
Possumhaw: The clock is ticking
Kathleen Norris recounts her introduction to computers in the 1970s in David Steindl-Rast and Sharon Lebell’s “Music of Silence.” Computers were a marvel, and she was thrilled her work time was reduced remarkably.
Possumhaw: A hard truth
Early in the morning I sat at the window watching the two surviving ducks forage at the lake’s edge.
Possumhaw: Perfectly imperfect
I’ve discovered that in certain situations I have a tendency to hedge on the truth, and I hate that. I signed up for the Lifeline medical testing held at the Presbyterian church on Bluecutt Road in Columbus.
Possumhaw: Superman has left the building
Sam and I went to see Prairie neighbors Nick and Eleanor Hairston’s granddaughter Reed’s school musical where she belted out the “Hero” song. I’ve been thinking about that song ever since.
Possumhaw: You could be sugar-addicted if …
The doctor warned our cholesterol levels were rising, not dangerously so, but rising. No medicines were required, but paying closer attention to our eating habits was advised.
Possumhaw: Toxins of spring, prepare and beware
‘Tis the season for creeping vines waiting to bring forth untold misery to the gentle gardener.
Possumhaw: Why are you so happy?
Robin handed me the book “The Happiness Project,” and like a moth to a flame I was drawn to the subtitle, “Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun.” The book is by Gretchen Rubin.
Possumhaw: Joy of the roadsides
Driving west over the Tombigbee Bridge and exiting north onto Plymouth Access Road leads to a trail of wildflowers not to be believed.
Possumhaw: She looked back
Sam power-washed the back porch along with the Adirondack chairs. I beat the rugs and fluffed the cushions.
Possumhaw: Computer woes
The email was sent. It read, “I’m upgrading my computer to Windows 10. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know I was unsuccessful.”
Possumhaw: Bioluminescence
Our prairie grass grew tall, until Sam retrieved his 1994 Dixon lawnmower from the shed. All across the Prairie lawnmowers and tractors with bush hogs came to life.
Possumhaw: Sunday afternoon at the spillway
Looking across the Tenn-Tom Waterway from the West Bank, we saw young men playing basketball. Farther down a small boy twirled a smaller girl on a swing. Sam and I reminisced about when we’d twirl ourselves dizzy and tumble to the ground while everyone fell out laughing.
Possumhaw: When less is more
“You may have the occasion to possess or use material things but the secret of life lies in never missing them.” Gandhi “Editing” is a
Possumhaw: Sure signs of spring
The carpenter bees are out, as are the bee traps. Already we’ve captured a half-a-dozen or so bees. The kittens are mesmerized, watching bees buzz around, tumbling on top of each other.
Possumhaw: The art of spring cleaning
I’m still taken with the Tiny House concept and author Dee Williams who listed all her personal belongings on one yellow legal-size sheet of paper.
Possumhaw: From one birder to another
“Migratory birds will start coming this month,” he said. “Last year I fed four pairs of rose-breasted grosbeaks.”
Possumhaw: I may be dying
To be honest, I’m not liking this New Year’s Resolution very much at all. It’s been 66 days now since I resolved not to buy any apparel, shoes or jewelry, nothing to decorate myself up with for a whole year.
