Columns: Great Green Room
Under the WeatherStephanie HuntAugust 2010
As I tap on my keyboard, rain pounds the skylights. Moments ago, the intolerable South Carolina heat melted into a torrential downpour. Lightening frizzes the afternoon sky; the heavens grumble as gods clear their voice. This is a summer gift — wrapped in heavy dark clouds and delivered at the end of a searing day — an afternoon thunder storm, and in its glorious wake, ion-smelling air rinsed clean of humidity, if only for a little while. Plumes of DespairStephanie HuntMay 2010
The satellite images are almost beautiful — a swirl of indigo, dynamic, Tomatoes for CaseyStephanie HuntMay 2010
My friend Debbie is one of those dependable Southern women who always shows up at the right moment with the just-right offering or gesture. One sad night last month, Debbie dropped by to pay her last respects to our walking companion, my elegant greyhound, Casey. For weeks I had watched my already sleek racer wither to skin and bones, and that day, after numerous rounds at numerous vets, I’d finally gotten a definitive diagnosis — cancer throughout his abdomen. I brought sweet Casey home for one last night so my girls could say goodbye, and Debbie appeared, her smile warm and gentle, her eyes sparkly with sheen of soft tears, her arms full of tomato seedlings. Where the Wild Things AreStephanie HuntMarch 2010
I like the nightlife, but lately things have been getting out of hand. “Hey, did you hear that?” I mumble to my groggy bedmate in the predawn dark. The alarm is about to go off, but it’s been preempted by the scratch and maw overhead. A muffled thump, small footsteps — these early morning audio extras disrupt my sleep, and disrupt the cozy feeling I savor, all tucked in my warm bed, that my home is my dominion, my territory. Cabin FeverStephanie HuntAugust 2009
On a summer sojourn to Virginia, sitting on the slanted porch of a centuries-old log cabin, I am transported more by time than place. My husband and I had escaped to the Blue Ridge Mountains for reprieve from coastal South … Babes in the WoodsStephanie HuntMay 2009
Toilet paper and trowel. . . check. Sleeping bag, sleeping pad. . . check. Rain gear, flashlight, emergency blankets. . . check, check, check. Whistles and mini-blast air horn (couldn’t hurt) for warding off bears. . . check and double … The Renewable Power of YesStephanie HuntApril 2009
Whew, another Earth Day has come and gone, and I, for one, am relieved. Now I can go back to the humdrum dragging of my blue recycling bin to the curb, minus the pomp and circumstance. I can poke around … Thinking LittleStephanie HuntMarch 2009
The eights are about to do me in. We sailed through the perky paired-off twos, the odd but seemingly wholesome threes and the no-problem fours. Fives were a flash, easy as pie, and even the sixes and sevens seemed to … And Heaven and Nature SingStephanie HuntDecember 2008
The tree is up. Those four words, punctuated by a huge sigh of relief, mark the true launching of my Christmas season. It can be mid-to-late December but before the tree gets planted in the living room corner, before the … A Wing and a PrayerStephanie HuntNovember 2008
I have a heron. A gorgeous, mysterious Great Blue. In the mornings when the sun is bright, I pull back my bedroom drapes and look first thing. He’s an early bird, and often he’s already landed, punctual, a morning staple, … The SurgeStephanie HuntOctober 2008
The view from my bedroom is breathtaking. If I stand just so and peek through my neighbor’s fenced yard at the right spot on a sunny day, I’m blinded by a dazzling shimmer. Charleston Harbor. A gorgeous, expansive liquid plain, … |
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