Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: One night in the pen
The bunny numbers had grown to four, though not in the usual way. The first bunny, small and untamed, was Toby. He began his life at the Bardwells in a birdcage that opened into a small bathroom.
Possumhaw: Busy week in the Prairie
On the heels of a quiet, cold winter, the Prairie house became a whirl of activity. It’s good to enjoy those quiet winter days; they don’t last long. Our visiting turkey hunters set out early and came in late, thus we rarely saw our guests. I caught up with my brother, Skip Shelton, coming in at the late hour of 9 p.m. His eyes looked bleary. “You can’t run on a few hours of sleep,” I said.
Possumhaw: Hanging by a thread
Saturday a ghastly thing happened at the Prairie house. While Sam was gone fishing I discovered a mouse clinging to the Big Tom sticky trap. I have vowed time and time again not to use those cruel traps, however successful they are.
Possumhaw: Eat two onions and call me in the morning
The Wall Street Journal headlined “A Delicious Prescription: Chefs and doctors are teaming up to create health food you might actually crave.”
Inheriting the “clipper” gene from our mother, my brother and I trade clipped newspaper articles, his from national newspapers on food, birds, nature and mine from the local sports pages on the Mississippi State Bulldogs.
Possumhaw: Made in the U.S.A., or not
The jean jacket label said Bangladesh. Prairie skirt made in the U.S.A. Old Navy jacket made in China, as was the Longleaf camo jacket, as was the Ralph Lauren skirt. Really? Ralph Lauren made in China? Ann Taylor — Hong Kong; MSU baseball hat — Taiwan R.O. C. Shoes were a mix of Brazil, Mexico and China.
Possumhaw: Weaving an undeniable spell
The boys were all excited about their fishing weekend. Tim wanted to kick off his recent retirement, and Greg, looking forward to the birth of his second child, wanted a quiet weekend to fish; Sam agreed to host. Quick to seize opportunity, I called my college roommate, Toni, and suggested we meet for a girls’ night.
Possumhaw: Crushing cracker boxes
The first time we met I was mesmerized by the whiteness of his hair and the blueness of his eyes. The corners of his eyes drifted into tiny lines that caused his eyes to sparkle, though no more so than his smile.
Possumhaw: Birding from the skybox
Dressed in all our outdoor gear, we watched a bird soar over the sage field and lake.
“It’s a small hawk or maybe an owl. The head looks like an owl,” Sam said.
Possumhaw: Wintertime and the living ain’t easy
Snow dusted across the Prairie, temperatures plummeted. Sam built a wood fire. We have other heat sources, but firewood is cheap and available and propane has become high and unavailable.
Possumhaw: Illegal tail feathers
My wildlife biologist brother spent some time with us over the holidays. Coming through the door, he said, “Being the creative type, I saw something that you might want, but you have to tell me right now so I can go get it.”
Possumhaw: Frozen lakes can be fatal
The lake was frozen solid and there, in the center, was a pile of white duck feathers. I ran for the telescope and stood at the window to see if the ducks were moving at all; it was hard to tell. I panicked. Could I save them if they weren’t already dead?
Possumhaw: Flu is nothing to sneeze about
Sam looked pitiful, with sad eyes peering over the face mask. As soon as the doctor verified the flu diagnosis on went the mask.
Possumhaw: Y’all, you guys, you-ans
The Prairie house became a B&B throughout the holidays. Family members returned again and again, sheets and towels ran continually through the Maytag, decaf or high octane coffee was served with or without cream and sugar, and a continual flow of baked goods streamed in through the front door, compliments of the neighbors.
Possumhaw: Books ‘R’ Us
There is a man who often mails books, and when the postal clerk asks the obligatory, “Is there anything hazardous or flammable in the package?” He answers, “Yes, words.”
Possumhaw: The dark night of Christmas
For days he asked, “Is it Christmas yet?”
“No Daddy, still two more days.”
Our roles were reversed; now the daddy asked the child, “Is it Christmas yet?”
Possumhaw: Home remedy for the common cold
The Bardwells were cooped up on the weekend with colds. Since Sam and I were both sick we scratched around the house looking for something we could do. We wrote Christmas cards, wrapped presents, watched football games and a Christmas movie while passing the Kleenex box back and forth.
Possumhaw: All gone but the memories
“It wasn’t always an island,” Sam explained. “The channel redirected the Tombigbee River cutting off Highway 82 and creating the island.” On a cold Sunday afternoon drive Sam shared 50-year-old memories.
Possumhaw: The lady in the funky sweater
“Standing in the checkout line, I watched as a white-haired lady began to put her groceries on the conveyor belt. She caught my attention because her sweater was funky and full of life. She’d already put a few items on the counter when the cashier said, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m closing.”
Possumhaw: A day with the ladybugs
One ladybug chased the other, and this made me think that perhaps I had captured a male and a female. I’m no entomologist, but I’m thinking maybe.
