The Mississippi – Through my eyes
The silty waters of the river rush over jagged rocks and algae covered vegetation. It flows steady until it runs upon a constricted tunnel or shattering waterfall.
Memories of my grandmother’s house
Sometimes I wish I could rewind time and hear that old wind up clock that sat on my grandmother’s mantel chime just one more time.
It was a segment on ESPN’s “Outside the Lines” that grabbed my attention a few weeks ago.
Visit to grandparents leaves many memories
I never knew my maternal grandmother. She died before I was born. My dad was 11 years old when he lost her. My “Bigdaddy” was truly a big man.
Each year when our garden begins to harvest itself, especially our tomato crop, I am reminded of childhood memories of a little girl and an older woman standing before an old black wood stove canning and preserving tomatoes for the winter's reward of a summer's treasure.
Just the facts and then some . . .
Explanation that is. As of late, I have found myself being bombarded with questions concerning – published facts in the paper and recordings of public meetings.
A slice of summer time
The ceiling fan circulates the warm air around the kitchen and I’m seated beside my little sister on one side and my grandpa on the other.
Tribute to Mrs. White
This will be one of those “what goes around come around” stories – but in a good way.
Does tech hurt our verbal skills?
“Have you talked to your mom today?” I replied, “No but I emailed her on Monday, Facebooked her on Tuesday, texted her on Wednesday. . .”
- Jack Orem Miles
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- The Mississippi – Through my eyes