Seagulls recall a jazz standard, Side by Side, and the Glovers of Glover Gardens had an anniversary.
Crabs caught just off our dock at Gumbo Cove were perfectly satisfying and reminiscent of my childhood at the beach in Gilchrist, TX.
The Grill-Meister and I celebrated Valentine’s of 2020 at Field’s restaurant in Bay St. Louis; we’re reliving the memory with the photos.
Wishing you all more whimsy than ‘grimsy’ during this crazy winter of pandemic…. stay safe, everyone, and enjoy those small moments.
When a hurricane storm surge happens at Gumbo Cove, the water roars in from the Gulf and goes back out eventually, but leaves behind an unwelcome calling card: canal mud.
Trucks, big, strong, sturdy, beautiful trucks, barrelling down the highway in a convoy, filled with workers loaded for bear and ready to slay the dragons of downed power lines to bring the lights back on for the people.
Remembering storms whose names have spawned headlines and headaches, headstones and heartache, hardships and heroism. And wondering, why do we have to name storms after people? Why not use diseases or the periodic table? Or colors?
The strawberry lemonade from Mockingbird Cafe is a drink that instantly transports you back to childhood summers, all reminiscent of church picnics, sunburns and innocence.
An article in the latest issue of The Shoofly Magazine beautifully captures the seemingly oppositional characteristics of nature and our relationship with it – peaceful but unpredictable, soothing, but sometimes dangerous – and brings back memories of falling trees.