Articles by Shannon Bardwell
Possumhaw: Ants in the Prairie
Across the back porch scooted a carpenter ant. You have to wonder how they navigate because they stop, turn left, turn right, back up and then file forward again. Carpenter ants are plentiful right now. Sometimes, if I’m feeling so inclined, I get up and step on them. From the road I look like I’m doing the porch Watusi.
Possumhaw: Down at the farmers’ market
If there’s anything I hate to kill it’s time, but there I was, tooling around waiting for the farmers’ market to open so I could buy some of those “sweet-tasting, ugly cantaloupes” advertised by Black Creek Farms.
Possumhaw: Where is the Prairie?
A few times I’ve been asked where the Prairie is, so I’ll share how I found out and how you can find out for yourself.
Possumhaw: Living off the grid
You’ve probably been waiting to see what the Lehman’s Non-Electric catalog, mentioned in my last column, has to offer.
Possumhaw: Seeking the simple life
Picking up the phone, I dialed the 800 number. I knew, even as I did it, I was headed down that slippery slope.
Possumhaw: The loss of a pet
You know, mommas are always the ones to do all the work for the pets and you always wonder why they don’t want any, or any more, pets.
Possumhaw: Bass fishing reveries
I pointed my fishing pole toward Sam. “Look!”
As we faced each other in the fishing boat, he quickly looked behind him. “What?”
“My pole!” There between us was my new fishing pole with a good two feet dangling off the end.
“You scared me,” he said, “I thought you saw a snake or an alligator. We’ll go back and get your old one.”
Possumhaw: Sierra Club tote bag
“Do you think they kill cows just for the leather?” “I don’t think so. Maybe they used to like in pioneer times,” my walking buddy
Possumhaw: In praise of homegrown tomatoes
Picking up one tomato, I slid the blade of the Pampered Chef knife easily across its rosy skin. The tomato yielded four thick slices. The tomato plants in the greenhouse are producing an ice cream-bucket full every other day.
Possumhaw: Back in business
Shoving the can of “whitefish pate” into the trap, I closed the door. Sam came outside, “You’re not going to use a whole can are you?”
“Yes, I am,” I answered, “I want to be sure to get him.”
I was trapping again; this time a feral cat. I can’t even count the number of feral cats that have shown up at the Prairie house. I’m thinking it’s because of our regular feeding habit. At the Bardwell’s, the cats and everybody else get a regular feeding, including snacks.
Possumhaw: Ducks on the pond
“Can you take the ducks in?”
“Well, what are neighbors for if they can’t take the ducks in?”
Possumhaw: Birds and their feathers
There’s no mistaking the indigo bunting, his sleek small body and that screaming teal color.
Possumhaw: The grab bag family
You don’t get to choose your children. You can choose to have them or adopt them, but you don’t get to choose who they are.
Possumhaw: Prairie block party
It was spring and I decided to throw a Prairie block party. It is very difficult in the Prairie to know where your block begins and ends so I depended on Sam to identify the neighbors. Regrettably, a few got left out.
