I submitted this article for editing on what would have been my parents’ 54th wedding anniversary, had Dad not moved to heaven last August. Mom said that morning this is the first anniversary they had ever been apart. So you see, the significance of relationship was instilled in me from the very beginning of my life.
Come celebrate the 239th birthday of our country this Saturday at the Oxford Farmers Market. With all the fresh vegetables, beef products, eggs, jams, jellies, honey, baked goods, crafts and plants, we are truly your one-stop shopping center. Everything we sell is either homegrown or homemade by our vendors. Since our items come straight from the farm to the table, you know exactly where everything comes from, and there are no harmful preservatives placed on these veggies. Market hours are every Saturday and Wednesday from 7 a.m. until noon.
My cousins Gerry and Cookie affectionately called me Pinochi-nose.
By now, most folks have heard that there is a new strain of avian influenza making its way across the country. This one doesn’t affect humans, but is being called Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI). To me, if a flu strain is given a name with capital letters in it, it must be serious. Since this one is also being called highly pathogenic, there is a very strong likelihood that if poultry is exposed to the virus, it will get sick.
Each week I reveal a little bit of myself in this column. But I use a nom de guerre for my friends and family. Because while it might be OK to know the odd personal fact about my bestie Bo, there’s no need to know the true identity of the teenage girl who made out with Mickey Sonbek under the shrubbery at Bush Gardens during a class trip.
Occasionally I get a call from someone who wants to know what’s wrong with a tree. Or at least, that’s the question they ask. But what they really want to know is “What inexpensive magical substance can I spray on the bark that will instantly make my tree look beautiful and healthy again?”
Frances Mayes talks about “Under Magnolia: A Southern Memoir” on North Carolina Bookwatch at noon, Sunday, June 21, and 5 p.m. Thursday, June 25.
I firmly believe my mother was a mature adult at birth. I’m still waiting for the notice in my mail informing me that I’m a grown-up. One thing about her though is adorably child-like. Mom is absolutely bonkers over those festively shaped, chocolate-covered marshmallows that show up in stores around the holidays.
Most of us feel that we should pray more. Paul’s command to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) usually makes us feel like we fall short in that department.
I’m not terribly proud of this fact, but I respond just like Pavlov’s pooch. In magazines, online or TV, show me some type of carb with a creamy-looking dressing and I’m stopped dead in my tracks. I guess that’s what they mean by food porn, because that first glimpse has the power to pause me like a video game.