Possumhaw: ‘Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’

Drew and Carter Pack stood on the dock. Each, being boys of 7 and 4 years, had shed their shirts, shoes and socks. Drew, with fishing pole in hand, caught fish while Carter scooped minnows in a cup.

Possumhaw: Fields of sunbeams

Occasionally an easy breeze blows through the tree canopy, and it feels cool. Other times, the wind is as still as death, the air so thick it’s like pushing against a wall.

Possumhaw: Raccoons and skunks, oh my

A raccoon was caught in the cage and the rain was beating hard. I admit I was feeling pretty prideful as it rarely takes more than a night to catch one. Raccoons are destructive; they have to go.

Possumhaw: You can’t make this stuff up

Here I am.” Kathy McCoy hollered and motioned for me to follow.

Cupped in her hand was a fuzzy-headed purple martin. Kathy explained the bird was born with an undeveloped wing. Marty chirped constantly but nestled comfortably next to Kathy.

Possumhaw: All in a day

You can make your plans, and then count on it — the day goes every which-a-way.

Possumhaw: Up the road to West Point

The invitation came in the mail. West Point’s Bryan Public Library was having their luncheon with books. I took the back way, up Old West Point road to Highway 45 Alternate and over to the library.

Possumhaw: A good place to be

After half-a century I feel I’ve finally gotten to the place I’m meant to be. It’s not so much a physical place as it is an-everything-else place. It’s a comfortable place where there’s a lot less striving.

Possumhaw: Snakes and dam holes

Wispy clouds littered the blue sky on a warm, clear day. The humidity was low, and the sun was edging toward the tree line.

Possumhaw: A tale of two treasures

Dr. Harry Sherman called and asked if we could meet at Plymouth Bluff Environmental Center. We toured the exhibits and he pointed out the merlin, a small falcon that had the misfortune to collide into our sunroom’s window. The merlin was now immortalized in the nature exhibit.

Possumhaw: Wilds in the Prairie

The heartbreak of psoriasis doesn’t come close to the heartbreak of losing a peep you’ve nurtured for seven weeks. Neighbors said they’d given up on

Possumhaw: Mothering by intention

We sat at the kitchen table conversing over coffee. In time, Heather noticed that Chloe, the youngest, had disappeared.

Possumhaw: Ode to a screen door

“Bam,” the screen door slammed. “Bam,” it slammed again. It’s a new sound coming from the back porch.

I love the sound of a screen door slamming. I love the way a screen door can make you feel like your outside even if you’re inside.

Possumhaw: Crimson and clover

It was a day to roll the windows down and sing loud. I was heading down Highway 45 South to Noxubee County, and the roadsides were aflame with red clover. The words of Tommy James and the Shondells’ 1968 hit “Crimson and Clover” played over and over in my head. I sang loud.

Possumhaw: Peeps in the Prairie

It was Good Friday, one of Sam’s annual fishing days. I, on the other hand, drove out to Tractor Supply to look at ducklings. I told myself I didn’t have to buy any, I would just look. I gave myself permission to buy some if I wanted to, but I didn’t have to. I had an animated conversation with myself the whole way.

Possumhaw: Transporting live turtles

Eight good-size turtles bask on the bank of the pond. A few years back we emptied the pond and had the silt dug out. When it refilled only one fallen limb remained in the pond. The pond turtles vie for it.

Possumhaw: A sticky situation

A terrible, terrible, thing happened. Sam pulled the boat out of the garage to go fishing. We keep the fishing boat in the garage and the vehicles in the yard. It was a beautiful day so the garage doors were left opened.

Possumhaw: The color’s in the jigs

Spring flings a craving on me for something new to wear; something “springy” even if temperatures are freezing. No matter, I wanted something the yellow of a daffodil, the fuchsia of loropetalum or the purple of a budding redbud. Only I was prevented from going to my usual thrift haunts because I had given up my love of thrifting for Lent. It meant sacrifice.

Possumhaw: The best things in libraries are free

People always say that you can’t get something for nothing but that’s not true. Not at the library.

Possumhaw: That old-time religion

The little church in the Prairie, Shaeffer’s Chapel, had their annual Seniors Appreciation Banquet — not seniors like high-schoolers, but seniors like seniors. The preacher shared with the crowd, “Honor your father and mother so that your days on the earth may be long.”

Possumhaw: Smothered nutria, Cajun style

There on the bank of the lake lay a critter that looked a lot like a beaver. Its fur was long and wet; its teeth were curved and yellow. Its feet were webbed, but the tail was its undoing. The water rodent had a long round tail like a rat. The son-of-a gun was no doubt a Louisiana nutria.