Fall chrysanthemums — a.k.a. mums

September is a time when most of our flowers look pretty worn out, almost as worn out as I feel. Exhausted from garden weeding, mowing, and endless watering, I am ready for a change. Fortunately, fall is right around the corner.
With it arrives cooler nights, falling leaves and bright chrysanthemums in autumnal colors. What a word “chrysanthemum” is, and quite the tongue twister of a plant name. William J. Johnson said, “A chrysanthemum by any other name would be easier to spell.” I agree, so let’s refer to them as “mums.”

The Pets We Keep

Country Connections By James and Ellen Perry
While sitting on my front porch this late August afternoon listening to Tony Williams and the Platters’ version of “Sleepy Lagoon,” my mind wanders back to the early 1980s.
My family and I lived in Dothan, Alabama. The house next door sold and a new family moved in. They were from New Jersey and had bought the local Greyhound Bus Station. The people who owned the Greyhound franchise for Dothan had built a new bus station in a more accessible part of Dothan.

Heritage Community Kitchen Brings New Opportunity to UC

Food, the soul and heart of a culture and community. While kitchens are usually the center of a home and allow for a soul to be fed.
Donna Riddle and other Union County Farmer’s Market (UCFM) members hope to do just that through the addition of the Heritage Community Kitchen.
“We wish to help small culinary businesses flourish, creating a healthier and sustainable community through food access, security, equity and education,” Riddle said.
The Heritage Community Kitchen is a commercial kitchen located inside the Union County Farmer’s Market Pavilion at Heritage Park.

Food for Thought

Sometimes what a person says points to a contradiction in other areas of life or reasoning. I’m definitely not pointing fingers—I know I have and undoubtedly continue to have contradictions in my life.

Here We Go!

Have you every had an idea or plan go awry? What if it happened in front of others?
Back when I was in my early teens, I spent a Friday night with my cousin and friend Lynda. That evening we received a few inches of snow. We got up early that Saturday morning, put on our coats and gloves, and ran outside with Lynda’s sled. There were already younger kids sledding down the hill in front of her house. We climbed up the hill and sat her sled at the top. She sat down first and I got on behind her.
“Here we go!” we yelled as we scooted forward. Nothing. We didn’t even budge.