Magnolia and Moonshine | Spring 2023

Magnolia

& MOONSHINE

Magnolia

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

& MOONSHINE

Publisher: Katie Waldrep Content Editors: Leslie Anne Jones & Joan McLendon Budd Layout & Design: Denise DuBois Advertising Sales Manager: Meagan Thorne Advertising Sales: Darlene Spears & Taylor White Graphic Designer: Brad Beasley Contributing Writers Katie Waldrep Katharyn Privett-Duren Mary Dansak Marian Carcache Kristina Bain Hendrix John N. Felsher Leslie Anne Jones Denise DuBois

On the Cover Farm Girl Fresh Photo by Darian Reilly Spring 2023 • Volume 2, Number 2 Magnolia and Moonshine is a product of Magnolia Greene, Inc. in Seale, Alabama Follow us on Facebook and Instagram @magnoliaandmoonshine Email us your story ideas at ContactUs@MagnoliaAndMoonshine.com Join the mailing list by scanning the QR code

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S

pring has sprung! There are many shades of green sprouting and an array of flowers that have started to bloom in the South. The beauty of azaleas and wisteria shows all around us. The last of the frost is hopefully in our past and it is time to start planting our gardens. I am definitely not a master gardener but the years that seem to be adding to my life very rapidly, somehow give me the desire to get my hands in the dirt.

My favorite fashion season is spring.

I love the current styles of loose dresses and light jackets paired with sandals. In this issue, we will go on a journey with my friend Clare Koppang of Council Wardrobe Studio. She teaches us the art of putting an outfit together and keeping our closet fresh so that we can be ready for every spring party.

And speaking of parties, every true Southerner should not hesitate to use the silver! Collecting silver is an honor and we should not keep it locked away.

Sure we may have to hand wash some

of the treasures, but silver is beautiful and has been used for many generations.

Beth Walker, the owner of Oexning Silversmiths and Gryphon Estate Silver, guides us on how her business helps us to collect and repair new and used silver that we can purchase or may have been passed down from generations.

And while we are walking through the fields in the beautiful countryside of the South, who would want to run into a terrifying hog with tusks? These animals are not just regular farm pigs! They have become a major problem and multiply at an extremely rapid speed. The boars are very aggressive and also can ruin a field of crops overnight. In this article, you will find out the problems that these feral pigs are causing across the South.

Thanks for joining us on this adventure! We hope you enjoy this issue!

Katie Waldrep Publisher Magnolia and Moonshine MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

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28 The Rise of the Gaulway Ramblers

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Set for Spring Farm Girl Fresh A Frenchman Walked into an Alabama Bar: the Rise of the Gaulway Ramblers Southern Manners: Wedding Season Sending the Message: “Use Your Silver”

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Council Studio: Investing in a Great Wardrobe The Art of French Hand Sewing M Donohue: Collection Inspired by a Mother’s Jewelry Box Best Trips for Couples Across Mississippi

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Sweet Magnolia Blossoms: Weston Farms Southern Folk Heroes Feral Hog Invasion Eyeshine in a Louisiana Bayou Cathead Distillery: A Nod to the Blues Mama Said Under the Arbor

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44 Council Studios

88 Cathead Distillery 48 French Hand Sewing 80 Feral Hog Invasion

64 Best Trips for Couples in Mississippi

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6 | Winter 2023

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Chattahoochee River along the Phenix City Riverwalk

The Longest Urban Whitewater Course in the World - The Only Dual State Zip Lines - 10 Obstacle Multi-level Aerial Adventure - Treetop Zip Course - 18-hole Riverfront Disc Golf Course - 20 Miles of Scenic Riverwalk - Guided Fly Fishing

You'll be Hooked

Katie’s Spring

Vinglacé Wine Chiller I love the Vinglacé wine chiller. A friend gave the gift set to me, and I have loved using it to keep the bottle of wine cold even when it is outside. No ice or refrigerator needed. It has a dishwasher safe glass insert and is made of double walled stainless steel. Grab a set that comes with two tumblers and grab a friend.

Go outside and enjoy a nice bottle of champagne or wine! vinglace.com Color

M Donohue Bloom Multi Flower Necklace M Donohue Collection has many different styles of jewelry. The elegant and classic accessories remind me of jewels that my grandmother would have loved to wear in her youth, but they have a modern twist to them.

This stunning necklace would be paired great with a fabulous sundress on a beautiful spring day. mdonohuecollection.com

Brush on Block It’s spring, and we all need a good sunscreen.

This brush on the block is in powder form and can be used under or on top of makeup.

I love to use it on my children’s faces, but I 73 reviews love it more on the part of their hair. It’s great because it can be used in place of Shipping calculated at checkout. greasy sunscreens. Its active ingredients include titanium dioxide and zinc oxide but also haveyour safe, bottle naturalcold minerals and ice. It's The Vinglacé wine & champagne chiller keeps without botanical extracts.

It comes with a built-in made of stainless steel and vacuum insulated, so you don't have to worry about brush applicator loveyou to put on your wine condensation or warm wine. Lightweight and easyso tokids carry, canitenjoy themselves, and it doesn’t get in their cute & champagne anywhere you go. All Vinglacé products come in a beautiful gift box. little eyes. brushonblock.com

Wine Chiller $89.95

Airfly Pro Bluetooth Transmitter This device is fabulous on a commercial flight. I plugged it into the screen to watch a movie on my flight, and I didn’t have to use the earphones that the airline gave me.

It makes the movie transmit to my comfortable AirPods through Bluetooth. Very convenient and easy to use with a 20+ hour battery life. twelvesouth.com

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Osea Anti-Aging Body Balm I use this body lotion before bed at night and wake up feeling extremely hydrated.

The skincare line uses Alaria seaweed to improve the elasticity and makes skin feel more firm. It is a combination of creamy and oily. And I must say that it really seems to help. oseamalibu.com

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Picks Sans Air Filter With so many spring allergens in the air, this air filter really knocks it out of the park. It is very quiet and sleek. The unit has a Hepa 13 filter, and new filters ship automatically and free to your home when you need them. The Sans Air Filter really helps control the dust and pet smells around my house. breathesans.com

Innav8 Water Spray Nozzle I am always looking for a sturdy spray nozzle to use to water my outdoor planters. This one does the trick. It has 10 spray patterns and an easy on/ off thumb control feature without any leaking or hand cramping. So get to planting, and keep the blossoms beautiful by using this to water them! amazon.com

Le Volume 75MM

L’ange Le Volume 75mm 2-in-1 Titanium Brush Dryer This styling tool combines a round brush with a hairdryer and gives incredible volume to your hair. It is so easy to use and helps fight frizz. And remember that Dolly Parton said, “The higher the hair, the closer to God.” langehair.com

2-in-1 Titanium Brush Dryer

Smithey No. 11 Deep Skillet Every southerner needs a cast iron skillet, and this company is bringing the southern art of cooking to the forefront. I recently changed out all of my pans to cast iron because research has shown that the non-stick skillets that I was using may cause cancer.

So, I am taking it back to the way my ancestors cooked. They call themselves “modern heirlooms,” and are “crafted to last generations.” Smithey is durable and can be used to cook an array of foods, including biscuits and fried chicken. smithey.com

Create salon-worthy blowouts at home with one easy-to-use styling tool! Le Oura Ring Volume combines a hair dryer with a style-sculpting thermal brush. TugIresistant absolutely love thisgiving ring!

Itthecomes in five bristles grip the hair, you just right amount of tension to create smooth styles with incredible body and lift. Customizable settings let different colors and looks sleek enough to pass you control the heat and airflow while the titanium barrel transforms hair into frizz-free perfection. Designed for all hair types and lengths, our larger forshiny, a normal ring, but it does so much more!

I have a difficult time sleeping, and the Oura shows me my sleep patterns every night and gives me a score for how well rested that I am every day. It has three numbers that tell me my sleep, readiness, and activity scores. If you like data and want to see what is going on inside your body, this ring is for you! ouraring.com

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Enter the world of WINNIE and discover the latest in bridal fashion. www.WINNIECOUTURE.com #WinnieBRIDE #iDoinWinnie

COLUMBUS FLAGSHIP SALON

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6401 WHITESVILLE RD . COLUMBUS . GA 31904

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706.221.5519

ATLANTA . BEVERLY HILLS . HOUSTON . CHICAGO . BOSTON . DALLAS . COLUMBUS SAN FRANCISCO . NASHVILLE . CHARLOTTE . AUSTIN

Green screams spring at Schomburg’s Jewelers in Columbus, Georgia. Pictured above: Rothschild Bird tri corner dish by Herend. To the right: Placemats by Skyros, gold rimmed plate by Herend, and Herend Rothschild Bird Green salad plate. Crystal stems and biscuit barrel by Waterford. Sterling Lion by Wallace.

Photos by Morgan Duke.

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spring

SET FOR

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Pictured top: Butterfly dish by Mottahedeh. Above: Herand fishnet bunny.

To the right: Gold rimmed Herand dinnerplate.

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Pictured above: Plates

by Royal Limoges.

White plate pattern – White Ocean. Simon Pearce vase filled with hydrangeas.

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Schomburg’s Jewelers

Frederick Carl Schomburg was born May 25, 1852 in Hanover, Germany.

After serving an apprenticeship and working under celebrated watchmakers, he immigrated to America and settled in Columbus, Georgia in 1872. That same year, he started C. Schomburg & Son. Now known as Schomburg’s Jewelers, the store is owned by the fifth generation of family members who continue to offer quality products with friendly customer service. We would like to thank Schomburg’s Jewelers for creating the beautiful tables and allowing Magnolia and Moonshine to have a photo shoot in the store.

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Photos by Darian Reilly

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farm girl fresh

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RACHEL WAINWRIGHT’S FRESH APPROACH TO FARMING Story by Mary Dansak There is nothing in the world like a fresh peach. As the kids say, #IYKYK, or “If you know, you know,” for the rest of us.

At one time, Rachel Wainwright, the Farm Girl, didn’t know. “I hated peaches,” she laughed. That’s a bold statement from someone whose life is elbow-deep in them. “Then I started dating Payton. He took me out to the fields, where I ate a peach right off the tree. I started falling in love with peaches and Payton at the same time.”

First comes peaches, then comes marriage.

Newlyweds Rachel and Payton were a busy young couple with Rachel working full-time in the waste-management business her family started in 1946 and Payton farming thousands of acres of orchards as his family before him did, plus owning and operating The Strawberry Patch at Taylor Orchards along with other family members. Then along came March 2020, bringing with it Covid-19 and a whole new world.

“People stopped coming to The Strawberry Patch,” Rachel explained.

While some might have seen this as a chance to take a break from their demanding lives, Rachel thought otherwise. “If people can’t come to the strawberries, maybe we could bring the strawberries to the people.” She loaded up her truck with fresh-picked strawberries and hauled them to Columbus, Georgia, where she sold them out of the parking lot of a retail store.

Rachel’s roadside stand sold every strawberry they offered. When strawberry season ended in mid-May, Rachel, whose energy and enthusiasm shone like gold in our conversation, decided if they could do it with strawberries, they could do it with peaches.

“I asked my customers on Facebook if anyone was interested in peaches. It turns out there was a huge outpouring of people wanting peaches. Payton brought a truckload, and they sold out right away.”

I have to say, I get it. I remember that summer. The strangeness of this unknown virus and isolation was heavy. Biting into a fresh peach was a balm for the soul: a taste of long, barefooted summers; homemade ice cream and warm, gooey cobblers; rainbows sprayed from the watering hose. To bite into a piece of good fruit is to literally eat the sunshine that drives the process of turning carbon dioxide and water into the delicious sugar that sweetens our food. Eating a perfect peach was just what the soul needed that very strange summer.

Maybe it was Covid. Maybe it was Rachel’s personable presence. Maybe it was just the taste of fresh Georgia peaches plucked from the tree that very morning, but whatever it was, Farm Girl Fresh was off and running.

The family flat-bed truck couldn’t haul enough peaches to keep the customers satisfied.

“We had to rent a Pinske refrigerated truck. It was as big as a semi.

When we saw it out there in the driveway, taking up half the yard, we asked ourselves what we were doing. Is this real? Are we running a business?”

Indeed, they were. Farm Fresh Girl, with the tagline “From our orchards to your table,” kept customers supplied with not only peaches but other produce from local farmers as well.

Anyone who has ever eaten fresh produce understands that farmfresh and grocery-store fresh are two different things. It all has to do with

ripening. Ripening is a complicated science, and involves a perfect trifecta of the production of sugar, the production of aromatic compounds, and the breaking down of acids. The moment fruit is picked from the tree, sugar production ends. Although humans have gone to great efforts to mimic natural ripening, there is no recipe, including those that call for brown paper bags or placement near other fruits, that can replicate Mother Nature’s process.

Those “fresh” fruits in the grocery store bins are often picked in an unripe state, the firmness necessary to keep them from being damaged in all the handling and shipping. The peaches in the store might have been picked two weeks ago.

While Rachel may be the face of Farm Girl Fresh, she credits Payton for the superior product. “He knows the science,” she said. “There are over 40 varieties of peaches. Payton knows which variety is best each week of the summer. We pick the fruit in the morning, the exact variety for that day, and bring it straight to the customer, leaves and all.”

For the record, Rachel’s favorite variety, which she was able to tell me without a bit of hesitation, is the July Prince.

Of course, part of the allure of a fresh peach is its seasonality. We have nine months to dream about them, and only three months to gorge on them. Come mid-August, it’s too hot for peaches.

“Next it’s pecan season,” Rachel said with that same plucky energy.

“In October we harvest pecans and send them out to be candied and packaged.” Just reading the names of the packages makes my mouth water: Chocolate Pecans, Praline Pecans, Glazed Pecans, Roasted and Salted Pecans, Cinnamon Pecans, and of course, Raw Pecans.

“Pecans are a huge hit. Individuals buy them, but it turns out corporations and businesses are some of our best customers. They love to give pecans as gifts.”

Pecans are in season through the winter, and then strawberries are back in the spring.

Rachel’s Farm Girl Fresh truck can be found on Saturdays, in season, in the parking lot of PetSmart and Steak-n-Shake on Bradley Park Drive in Columbus. That’s all well and good for folks living in that vicinity, but what about the rest of us?

Luckily, we can order fresh peaches, strawberries, and pecans to be shipped. “We ship all over the country,” Rachel reassured me. “I even sent a box of peaches all the way to Alaska! The shipping was a bit expensive,” she laughed. I conjured up an image of a weary, displaced Georgia girl all the way out there in Alaska, craving that perfect summertime peach.

Shipping costs would not deter such a treat to oneself.

“What’s next for Farm Girl Fresh,” I asked.

“Oh, we’ll keep bringing our produce to the customer,” Rachel answered. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone, the customers or the local farmers.”

Although I live close enough to the orchards to get real fruit when I need it, I still breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that wherever I go, I’m not too far away for a fresh tree-ripened Georgia peach.

To keep up with the whereabouts of Farm Girl Fresh, follow them on Facebook @shopfarmgirlfresh, Instagram @shopfarmgirlfresh, or visit the website shopfarmgirlfresh.com where you can also place an order for delivery.

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Rachel and Payton Wainwright

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A Frenchman Walked into an Alabama Bar: The Rise of the Gaulway Ramblers

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Gaulway Ramblers. Pictured: Fred Holweck, CJ Alexander, Emma Dansak, Nathan Glazier, and Scott Miller.

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“Although the music on the album is a collection of traditional Irish and French tunes, the Gaulway Ramblers have created their own style, the likes of which has never been heard before.”

Story by Mary Dansak On Wednesday nights for the past 20 years, musicians have gathered in local pubs in and around Opelika, Alabama to play traditional Irish music.

Surely some barroom philosophy, late-night romance, and beer-fueled legends have been born of these sessions, but the most exciting thing to emerge from this scene is the Southeast’s most eclectic new band, The Gaulway Ramblers.

Five musicians and their seven instruments make up this merry group. You might want to stop and give them a listen on Spotify or your preferred music streaming platform, as their music is difficult to describe.

It’s traditional Irish. No, traditional French. Is that a banjo you’re hearing? And pipes? A viola? What on earth is that buzzing thing that sounds like a box of bees?

The Gaulway Ramblers’ music is indeed an amalgamation of traditional Irish and French music with a twist. Maybe “twist” is too mild. Make it a whirlwind. Instruments include a flute, a set of uilleann pipes, a tenor banjo, a guitar, a viola, a cajón, and the one that sounds like a buzzing cicada? That’s the hurdygurdy. These instruments and the musicians who play them come together in an unlikely matrix to create their trademark sound. Children dance, dogs bark, and the Gaulway Ramblers play on.

Perhaps the fans can describe it best. “Medieval festival; hobbit pub.” “Everyone is drinking wine and celebrating the good crop.” “Makes me want to twirl around in a field.” “Music to build a cob house to.”

“Makes the soul feel good!”

I asked band members Scott Miller, Nathan Glazier, Fred Holweck, Emma Dansak, and CJ Alexander how they would describe their music. Each band member summed up their style with one word: energy. “It’s all about getting people moving,” said CJ. “Let’s talk about the name,” I said, settling in to speak with members of the Gaulway Ramblers. “Is it spelled wrong?”

“Gaulway is a geographic portmanteau of the Irish city Galway and ‘Gaul,’ the name of France before and during the Roman occupation, when it was a Celtic land,” explained Scott Miller. “And there’s a famous Irish tune, The Galway Rambler.”

This explained everything and nothing. Why were they smashing up Ireland and France to begin with?

“Well, there’s Fred,” Emma explained. “He brought in all this music from the French tradition.” This brings us to the origin story of The Gaulway Ramblers.

Fred, a Frenchman and a visiting professor at Auburn University, was on the lookout for local

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musicians when someone suggested he visit the Irish session at Red Clay Brewing Company in Opelika. He arrived with his hurdy-gurdy and some trepidation. The hurdy-gurdy is not always well received. In fact, there used to be a Facebook group entitled, “Don’t Bring Your Hurdy-Gurdy to the Irish Session,” now vanished into obscurity.

“I brought my hurdy-gurdy to America to play for myself,” Fred said. “It was a good surprise to find the Irish session, but I was a bit unclear if they liked my music. The hurdy-gurdy is not an instrument played in traditional Irish music.”

The musicians at the session were far from put-off by the hurdy-gurdy. Nathan, in fact, had played with a hurdy-gurdy player in the past, though he was surprised that fate would put him in the path of another in this lifetime - there are precious few hurdy-gurdy players in America.

When Fred returned the following week, he was happy to discover that Scott and Nathan had learned his tunes. A trio, the first iteration of The Gaulway Ramblers, was born.

This trio, along with their permanent guest Douglas Coutts, began rehearsing outside of the session. With Scott providing melodies via his wooden flute and uilleann pipes, Nathan bringing rhythm and harmony with guitar and tenor banjo, and Fred’s mesmerizing drone of the hurdy-gurdy, they realized they needed some bass notes, some warmth to round out their tone. They reached out to two friends and frequent attendees of the session. Enter Emma with the dark richness of the viola, and CJ pinning it all down with percussion from the cajón. “We helped to strengthen the architecture of the sound,” CJ explained.

In a remarkably short period of time which surprised even the members of the band themselves, the Gaulway Ramblers were off to music festivals, performances, public and private concerts including a “tipi raising,” and even the International Viola Congress. They soon made their way to the studio to record their first album, self-titled “The Gaulway Ramblers,” which they recorded in two days. That same night they played before a live audience.

Curious about these festivals, particularly CelticFest Mississippi and Celtic Bayou Festival in Louisiana, I asked about the connection between Southern music and traditional Celtic tunes. “They share a common ancestor,” Scott explained. Digging deeper, I learned that what we call country music does indeed have roots in Celtic traditions, combined with gospel rhythms and vestiges of minstrel tunes.

Although the music on the album is a collection of traditional Irish and French tunes, the Gaulway Ramblers have created their own style, the likes of which have never been heard before.

“You call these tunes traditional French and traditional Irish, but do you ever cross them over, mix them up?” I asked.

“It’s inevitable,” Emma laughed. “It’s an intercultural tavern music experiment!”

“There are two ways to play traditional music,” Fred added, “respect the tunes or respect the spirit.” While each musician is professional and exacting, the Gaulway Ramblers absolutely respect the spirit of the music.

“This music was written to be the glue for society,”

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Nathan went on. “It was the music of the people.” I recalled my experiences square dancing with strangers in my youth. “Very much like that,” Nathan agreed. “It was music for bringing people together to celebrate, dance, and even mourn.”

The musicians themselves are every bit as diverse as their instruments, as illustrated by their musical backgrounds and their “day jobs.”

Scott, Irish by heritage and hailing from Alabama, is a pharmacist.

Steeped in Irish traditional music, he learned to adapt and lend his instruments to the French sound. Nathan, a luthier, has experience with an enormous variety of music with an emphasis on Midwestern old-time. Nathan claims his success in the band is due to an “ignorance perspective” of the French traditional sound, bringing fresh perspectives with his contributions. CJ, a graduate of Berklee College of Music who later composed music for projects in Atlanta and Los Angeles, fell in love with Columbus, Georgia where he oversees the operation of a veterinary clinic. CJ’s original instrument was the marimba. He was trained to be versatile, bringing in a background of jazz and gospel to round out the Gaulway Ramblers’ distinct sound.

Quite the opposite of CJ, Emma was trained as a strictly classical musician. Emma is a professional violist and teacher, playing gigs in orchestras, weddings, and churches. She had to break free of a lifetime of rigorous study to embrace these boisterous tunes. And Fred, the intercontinental hurdy-gurdy man, had to learn to incorporate the drone of his hurdy-gurdy into Irish melodies. He has now moved back to his homeland of France where he is a professor of quantum mathematics.

Who would guess that out of this quirky combination of

backgrounds, geographical influences, and instruments such a joyous and coherent sound could arise? This is what surprised the band members the most. Asked what their secret is, each band member hesitated, then answers erupted. “Everyone is listening.” “We respect each other and the music and we’re constantly learning.” “We have so much fun.”

What’s next for the Gaulway Ramblers, I asked, concerned that the physical distance of their hurdy-gurdy player might pull the rug out from under their future. Not to worry, it turns out. Fred will return to the states for a visit this spring, and the Gaulway Ramblers have performances and festivals lined up. In June, they’ll make their way to Fred’s part of the world, where they’ve been invited to participate in the Festival International de Musique Universitaire in Belfort, France.

Before ending our interview, I asked each member of the band to tell me which tune they thought best for the uninitiated, the gateway tune to the Gaulway Ramblers.

Emma and CJ suggest, “Old Hag You Have Killed Me,” joyous and optimistic despite the name, which showcases each artist’s instrument in a layered effect. Scott voted for “A Bis,” the first song on their album as a feisty introduction. Both Fred and Nathan suggest “Mystique MiRaisin,” with its long, provocative introduction leading to “the most athletic tune on the album.”

As for that hurdy-gurdy, Fred revealed that the trends in sales of hurdy-gurdies point to Americans, and suggested that we may well look back someday and remember that time the Gaulway Ramblers heralded a boom for the hurdy-gurdy in American music.

Meanwhile, you can keep your eye on this jewel of a band by following them on Facebook, Instagram, or Bandcamp.

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SOUTHERN MANNERS: Story by Sally Anne Sessitte

We do things different down here. It feels normal to us. The southern way is more fun, and the food is definitely better. We do neighborly different - whoever said good fences make good neighbors was most definitely not southern. How can you borrow vanilla or ‘holler’ at the kids to “come on over and get some of these popsicles before they melt” with a big fence in the way?

Southerners also put their own distinct spin on wedding season. As soon as we get the Easter bonnets off the babies and the sterling put away from Easter brunch, we jump into wedding season with both feet — whether you’ve lost those last ten pounds or not.

The wedding is definitely about the bride and the marriage and love and commitment and all those things, but let’s be clear: the mother of the bride is making a statement with the flowers. A southern mother of the bride wouldn’t dare be caught wearing a skin-tight dress or fake lashes on her daughter’s big day. That’s not the way it’s done. It’s way too hot for anything skin-tight, and we’re not tacky. You may, however, notice a subtle sprinkling of four thousand imported Juliet roses and hydrangeas blanketing every single thing that isn’t tied down. Hang orchids from the 30-foot ceiling? Sure. Fill a stable with ferns and gardenias? Of course. Crane-lifting a 100-year-old Live Oak into the

perfect spot the day before the reception? Absolutely. Wedding season is the southern mothers’ Olympics, and flowers are the figure skating competition — everyone is watching, over the top is just about right, and points are given for style.

Southern hosts know the first rule of party food: nothing exceeds like excess. If one wedding cake is good, two are better. There will be a groom’s cake decorated from SEC football team colors or mascots, to camouflage, to a putting green so perfect you can’t believe it’s made of icing. Grooms’ cakes will be chocolate because the wedding cake will be white cake with fancy filling. That way, there’s a little something for everybody.

If the bride’s daddy’s not a Baptist, the bar will be open and it won’t be cash. It’ll be easier to get a glass of champagne than a glass of water.

If the reception is going to go late - and they pretty much all do (the bar situation helps with this) - you can expect to be served a full breakfast before you leave. Don’t fight it. You won’t be hungry, but somehow, you’ll definitely eat an omelet and a martini glass full of cheese grits on your way out.

Southern weddings are a three-night minimum, and you’ll need to check a bag. There’s always a bridesmaids’ luncheon, and it is always beautiful. There’s always at least one party for out-of-town guests.

Don’t miss the welcome dinner before the wedding if you want the

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WEDDING SEASON scoop on the whole bridal party and any bridezilla moments or lastminute meltdowns. Gossip is an art form in the South, and we won’t say anything ugly, but we’ll be sure to give you enough background to make the weekend at least as entertaining as an episode of Southern Charm. Don’t dare miss the day-after-the-wedding brunch for out-oftown guests; that’s the only place to get the scoop on which bridesmaid misplaced a necklace that was somehow returned by that cute cousin of the groom who I heard was engaged last year but seems very single today.

Do the RSVP right. Even if you have to go to the post office to buy one single stamp. Order the gift from the registry, and have it shipped.

Don’t bring it to the reception, and please don’t ask the bride if she got it.

The woman is wearing full stage makeup and Spanx, her aunt probably slipped her a nerve pill wrapped in a Kleenex, and her dad has been fussing about the cost of the flowers. She doesn’t know who gave her what, and putting her on the spot about that china doesn’t do anyone any good. You’ll know she got it when the beautiful thank-you note arrives.

You’ll want to speak to folks before you go. That is southern for: don’t leave the reception until you’ve spoken to the bride’s parents and thanked them for a wonderful party. How else will her mom know you noticed the flowers?

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Don’t wear white. Or gold. Or ivory. Or a floral on a white background. If you have to ask, pick a different dress. Too tight, too skimpy, too ballgown - there are many rules, but they can all be summed up as: if you’re not the bride, no one should notice your dress. It’ll be hot. It’ll be muggy. Select your fabrics and mascara accordingly. If you are a fan of rock salt deodorant, consider an alternative for the sake of others on the dance floor.

We do have rules, but the biggest rule is this: enjoy. Historian Joe Taylor was right in that southerners “love nothing more than to entertain family and friends with the best food and drink they can afford.” Entertaining is an art form in the South because we know life is too short to skip a celebration.

The true purpose of any wedding is to surround the new couple and the new marriage with a community of friends and family.

This community is there for the party but - more importantly - this community is there to love and support the couple when the party part of the marriage wears off and the marriage part of the marriage gets real. These “there from the beginning” friends and family will show up for the couple to lean on in years to come. Wedding traditions are, as with most southern things, about the people.

See you this season. We’ll be raising a toast to the happy couple while checking out the flowers. Love is in the air.

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Photos provided by Gryphon Estate Silver

SENDING THE MESSAGE: “USE YOUR SILVER” Story by Mary Dansak Today is a nice day to use your silver.

This is the message I took home after speaking with Beth Walker, who, along with her husband, Dan, owns Oexning Silversmiths and Gryphon Estate Silver, sister companies specializing in silver restoration and retail respectively. In what sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale, Beth and Dan live in a world of silver.

There’s something robustly attractive about silver, especially to us southerners. As we chatted, Beth and I tried to tease out that particular fancy, that irresistible draw we have to the 47th element on the periodic table.

“We’re all so tied to our ancestry, and every piece of silver has a story,” Beth suggested. With that, my brain began to wander.

I remembered the cold flush of my silver baby cup against my cheek as my mother tried to catch my tears. “They’ll turn to gold if they land in this cup,” she promised, thus assuring my tears would dry up. I remembered

those busy kitchens, polishing silver with my aunts and grandmother before a holiday meal, the warmth of a freshly rinsed water goblet in my hand when it was my turn to dry and buff. And I remembered my grandfather, a curmudgeon who wore a classic “wife-beater” undershirt, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a bourbon in his hand at all times.

Granddaddy Hack was a silversmith. He’d disappear into his cellar where, later, from the toxic fumes of sulfuric acid and the white-hot flames of his blow torch, he’d emerge with intricate goblets, brooches, and other silver treasures embellished with grape leaves, flowers, tendrils and vines, frost and glint. Hack’s silver was mystical, and on special occasions, I was allowed to venture down those crickety stairs into the forge.

“The only way out of Sunday dinner at my grandmother’s house was death,” Beth said, drawing me back to our conversation. “No matter what, the table was set with silver and the fine china, down to the individual salt shakers. Even the kids’ table had silver.”

“And aren’t we all like crows,” she added. “attracted to shiny things?

There’s nothing like a beautiful piece of lustrous silver.”

As well as its bright beauty, silver and gold were historically used to store

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wealth. According to Beth, even in uncertain economic times when people are drawn to reassess what they value, silver sales remain steadfast. “Silver represents wealth.

Even if we don’t recognize it, I think we know it in the back of our brains,” she said.

Silver. It’s shiny, it’s laden with ancestral ghosts, and it’s valuable. No wonder so many young people are afraid to use their silver. Beth encounters this fear of silver frequently. She likes to remind people of something a client shared with her. “According to her grandmother, we’re at least as good as the company!”

It is at this point in our conversation that I hear a shift in tone. Beth the owner of two successful silver businesses, the expert on silver patterns and history, the wife of the master silversmith steps aside and Beth the ebullient champion of the everyday utility of silver takes over.

“Hashtag: Use your silver!” she laughs.

Beth speaks of silver candy dishes as desk accessories.

“Fill them with paperclips!” I feel better having recently relegated mine to a trinket stand by my bed. “Those big silver trays look great in the bar,” she goes on. “Use your flatware,” she insists. “You don’t need a full set. Mix your Buttercup with your Francis I. I like to use earthy pottery with silver vases myself. And crystal! Don’t forget to use the crystal!”

I sneak a peek at the Gryphon Estate Sales Instagram page and am tickled to see water pitchers bursting with cut flowers, silver flatware and vintage glassware decorating a Day of the Dead table setting. The images show that she’s walking the walk.

“Don’t be intimidated by your silver,” she finishes.

“You don’t have to have your grandmother’s collection.

Find what you love, mix it up, make it yours.” If I weren’t enjoying our conversation so much, I’d rush to my tarnished collection right now and start finding creative ways to use my silver. Instead, we get down to business.

Dan and Beth purchased Oexning Silversmiths, the company Dan had worked for since the mid-1980s, in 1993, eventually relocating it from the bustle of Minneapolis to the quiet charm of the middle of nowhere, near Bakersville, North Carolina. “We love it here,” Beth said.

“We can walk to the foot of our driveway and we’re here at the shop.”

Oexning Silversmiths, Inc., named after the Norwegian silversmith Lars Oexning who founded the company, is a small operation with a large clientele. Dan’s work is physical. It’s hard and it’s dirty, and it’s never-ending.

Although we might picture a showroom with sparkling glass cases filled with silver pieces, in fact, Dan’s tools and workspace reveal the work behind the business. “And you should see the attic,” Beth sighed. “There must be six silver services up there waiting to be restored.”

It’s not a quick fix. There is so much more to silver restoration than hammering and silver solder. In one silver pitcher there may be multiple metals, each with its own melting point. Many a pitcher has needed repair after a DIY attempt to fix a hinge. And those pits, spots where damage has become corrosive, cannot be simply polished and buffed away. “Much of our work comes to us by way of the ‘handy husbands’ who think they can repair their own

Beth and Dan Walker are the owners of Oexning Silversmiths and Gryphon Estate Silver.

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pieces,” Beth said.

Unfortunately, young people are not exactly lining up to become silversmiths, which requires lengthy study with a master such as Dan. Meanwhile, as is the case with other restoration businesses, the retail venture grew organically out of Oexning Silversmiths and Gryphon Estate Sales was born. The idea was seeded by a suggestion to set up a website for their estate pieces based on the success of their Instagram account.

“A webpage?” Beth said, “How hard could it be, I asked myself.” We both laughed. For the record, Oexning Silversmith and Gryphon Estate Sales have beautiful websites and I highly encourage you to visit them.

“Why Gryphon?” I asked, curious about the mythical lion-bodied, eagle-headed logo on the website.

“My mother loved mythology, and so did I,” Beth said. “Gryphon is the protector of the valuables, the precious possessions. I thought it’d be a perfect logo.”

Asked what sets her estate silver business apart from others, Beth answered in one word, “Dan.” Dan, whose artistry is exacting and precise, treats every resell item in their collection as if it’s a customer’s restoration piece. Often, the Walkers will purchase pieces from other silver retailers, a common practice.

What the other companies call “gift ready” are seldom, if ever, up to Dan’s standards. As a silversmith, he is able to restore each piece to its absolute best.

Additionally, the collection at Gryphon Estate Silver is eclectic. “We want the high-end collectors as well as first time silver buyers to find something they love,” Beth explains.

As our conversation draws to a close, Beth confides in me that part of what she loves about her work are the endless trails she explores with every piece of silver. “I just found this Dunhill lighter,” she began, “which led me to read about how they are repaired, and the people who repair them. And have you seen vinaigrettes? You know, people didn’t always bathe, and they used to carry around strong perfumes in these little boxes.” I quickly pulled up images of both Dunhill lighters and silver vinaigrettes and if I were a fiction writer, I’d have grabbed my notebook and started a historical fiction novel on the spot.

With hopes to meet in person someday, I said goodbye to Beth, feeling moved by our conversations about the deeply personal value of silver in our lives, and glowing with a newly tapped appreciation of the work and story behind every piece of silver.

The next day I took my huge brooch, a detailed bunch of grapes my grandfather made for me when I was just one year old, something he made for my futureself, and polished it until it shone like a river. Typically set aside for fancy occasions, I pinned it to my plain, everyday cardigan and wore it to the elementary school where I work in the afternoons.

“Mrs. Dansak, that’s cool!” the kids said, touching the cold silver grapes. “Where’d you get it?”

“My grandfather was a silversmith,” I began, and another silver story made its way into the world.

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Above: Mary Dansak’s sterling silver brooch that her grandfather, Haskins Williams II (pictured top) made for her when she was a year old.

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council studio INVESTING IN A GREAT WARDROBE Story by Denise DuBois Buy the dress, then plan the event. That’s the philosophy of the ultrastylish and full-of-personality Clare Koppang who owns Council Wardrobe Studio in Columbus, Georgia.

“The people who come in here are always going somewhere. They always have plans. If they don’t, they leave with plans,” Clare said of her patrons.

“Buy your clothes then make the plans. If you wait for people to invite you places, it’s going to be so sad for that dress to just hang there. Buy the dress then make the plans. Make your life happen.”

Clare appeals to the southern woman who is ready to invest in a great wardrobe with timeless pieces that can be loved for a long time.

“These women understand that their clothes are an investment and begin to think of them as an art collection. You don’t buy art to hang on the wall that you don’t love. You invest in it. Why buy five outfits you may only like for two or three years? Yes, there are things you buy for a specific purpose like an event. I feel like we buy upscale pieces for your life,” Clare said.

Creating a dream wardrobe for her clients to love and seeing their faces glow when they step out of the dressing room wearing a piece they adore is “the moment” for Clare and her staff. She can instantly tell when a woman is wearing a pair of pants or a dress that she loves. Her face lights up. Styling the outfit - adding heels, a blazer, or a hat - punctuates the overall experience of feeling great about a new outfit.

When she began styling women, a service she offered before she opened the boutique and continues to offer, Clare heard too many women lament that they couldn’t pull off a certain piece or that they needed to lose weight before buying a special outfit. Enter the stylist. Clare began to show women exactly what they could pull off and how to look and feel amazing.

“I want you to look and feel good every day. When you get to be 80, people have certain regrets. They think they just wore the same thing all the time.

I want people to come here and have the ‘oh my gosh, I love this’ moment by showing them how they can pull it off. I want people to feel good and not always think they have to lose weight or make more money. Yes, our things are quality but our philosophy is fewer is better. If you get one piece every other month, in two years, you have that amazing wardrobe,” she said.

As for her personal style, Clare focuses on blazers, hats, dresses, and shoes. There is nothing like a dress with a blazer. It’s subtle and soft and still has an edge. And great jeans are a must. She loves a flattering pair of jeans with a good t-shirt. She may do a front tuck or add just the right shoes. In jeans, she can feel just as chic as she does in her favorite mini dress. It’s all in how you style it, she said.

Clare originally began her fashion journey in Nashville, Tennessee. She worked in retail and began visiting women’s closets on the weekend to help them style pieces they already had. She coached them on what they didn’t

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Clare Koppang is the owner of Council Wardrobe Studio in Columbus, Georgia.

Photos by Morgan Duke.

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need, what didn’t fit as well anymore, and what looked great. She helped them edit their wardrobes with the best pieces for them, which made getting dressed each day much easier. That became a full-on side business. She eventually took a leap and opened Council Wardrobe Studio in Nashville. It was by-appointment and she kept seeing her closet-styling clients.

When she moved back home to Georgia with her family, she decided it was time to reopen the boutique in the Uptown Columbus area. In May, she plans to relocate to the Highside Market at 211 13th Street, Columbus and expand her inventory.

Eventually, Clare realized it may be intimidating to allow someone you may not know into your home, so now she’s making friends in a fun, new way by offering one-on-one styling sessions in the boutique first.

“It’s before or after store hours, and it’s total one-on-one help. We will already have a room full of choices for them to try on, have lunch or coffee, and make it a fun hour. We get to meet, get a piece or two, then feel better about coming over for the closet council,” Clare said.

She already feels like a friend when you visit her store. Her love for fashion and helping women feel their best is evident as soon as you meet her. The store is welcoming and full of beautiful pieces to fall in love with – especially her favorite pink blazer.

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THE ART OF FRENCH HAND SEWING Story by Kristina Hendrix It was a balmy, breezy February afternoon when I sat down to talk with Jill Haisten. We met at an Auburn, Alabama coffee shop and sat outside at a little table. She is the perfect “Southern Lady,” her lipstick and earrings just right. In fact, this attractive and elegantly casual lady in front of me, in the realms of sewing, in the realms of fine children’s clothing, in the most airy confines of French dressmaking is something of a genius.

A former student of the renowned Sarah Howard Stone, late author and expert in the art of French hand-sewing, Jill’s own artistry within the small, cottage industry of fine children’s clothing is in itself an enormous tribute to her late mentor, teacher and friend. The late Sarah Stone’s formidable talent in heirloom sewing built a remarkable career early in the 20th century that led to such illustrious assignments as designing and sewing a christening gown and matching bonnet for the grandchildren of then U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson.

Stone’s shop was located in Cloverdale, the garden district of Montgomery, Alabama where the governor’s house is located, as well as the childhood home of Zelda Fitzgerald. Jill lived next door to Sarah’s daughter, Melissa, and the both of them sewed under Sarah’s tutelage, as well as traveling together for presentations and classes they gave around the southeast.

“Melissa died in 2008, but some of my fondest memories of her were when we were traveling and teaching,” she says.

Jill brought books with her for our visit, and while she grabs a coffee I pore over the photos of children’s christening gowns, baby bonnets, hand-sewn Easter dresses and embroidered linens that match specific china patterns. Where to begin?

There is the romance and allure inherent in the idea of lace and sewing, of course, and then there is the nitty-gritty of it, the grace and agility of deft fingers, the labor it requires, the eye-strain. This art, so much like spider webs, busy and built by math and its progeny, an architectural geometry holding fine cotton threads

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Photos by Morgan Duke

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together, is strength and delicacy all at once.

Lace is a fractal, it is Fibonacci numbers. Lace has songs written about it.

French hand-sewing is noted by seams that are sewn twice to encase the raw edge within the seam, creating a neat, delicate edge. These are known as French seams, and are used ideally for sheer, lightweight fabrics.

The difference, Jill tells me, in this type of sewing is the quality of the materials that are used in the construction: only the finest fabrics, mostly sheer cottons and linens are meant to be used, resulting in the ethereal appearance of the children’s special occasion clothing she has sewn for over 40 years. In one photo, an ecru and white christening gown drapes over a mother’s arm as elegantly as a wedding train along a communion rail. I remember my own youngest son wearing his Godmother’s heirloom christening gown, a little beauty pin closing the gown at his neck.

Within our time together, I find she’s already teaching me new things: I learn that the batiste and organdy panels with heirloom lace (called insertions), are joined together with something called “entredeux” (think of a sewn ladder).

It’s fun to say, too. She tells me water is linen’s best friend…she is a master at bringing lace and fabric back to life. Jill wants you to know: always, always, always, wash your heirloom linens and clothing before you put them away, and only store in clean, white cotton pillow cases. Don’t use tissue paper, nor plastic…no cellulose. Do not hang, but store on a shelf, lying flat.

We discuss heirlooms in general; whether new generations will continue to pass down their ancestors’ cherished and handmade things, and if mothers will teach their children to cherish the painstakingly-sewn and embroidered pieces of art, the handmade laces, the delicate batiste, organdy and linen fabrics that are the hallmarks of fine childrens’ clothing and based in traditions that are more often a priority in wealthier families; the clothing can be costly. Jill is an artist, and her creations are one of a kind, bespoke, family treasures. Some of the more intricate christening gowns may cost upwards of $10,000.

Many of Jill’s creations have been restorations and re-inventions; a bit of antique lace from a grandmother’s wedding veil incorporated into a baby girl’s going-home-from-the-hospital gown.

Jill’s work is ethereal, romantic, fragile. It reflects her Southern heritage, her dedication to details, which are everything in sewing.

“As a Southern lady, you can’t hold your head up unless you have fine embroidered linens or handmade dresses and button-on suits for your children and grandchildren at church.”

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Photo provided by Jill Haisten.

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Pictured left: Jill Haisten’s niece, Caroline, wears a hand sewn dress. Photo provided by Jill Haisten.

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Photo provided by Jill Haisten.

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m donohue Photos provided by M Donohue Collection.

COLLECTION INSPIRED BY A MOTHER’S JEWELRY BOX Story by Kristina Hendrix

Maureen Donohue Grable is the owner and principal designer of M Donohue Collection, a jewelry design business she opened in the early 2000’s. As a young girl growing up in Marietta, Georgia, she loved to play in her mother’s jewelry box, dressing up in the pieces she found there. That love of jewelry continued on into her adult years, and as a side hobby, she made original pieces for herself and friends just for fun.

Young, single and “ready to take on the world,” Maureen moved to Texas in 2001 to work for the luxury linen brand Yves Delorme Paris.

Within the experience of working there, she discovered a love for all things French. It was only a matter of time before her jewelry became heavily inspired by elements and hallmarks of French style: the easy elegance of form taken from the natural world, along with exacting

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workmanship provides a sturdy framework for the joie de vivre playing on the surface of her pieces. Her style is indeed joyful, fun, and never takes itself too seriously, although it is seriously elegant.

She wore her one-of-a-kind pieces frequently, receiving compliments from friends, colleagues and sometimes even strangers on the street.

After so many requests from women to create original pieces for them, it wasn’t long before she made the decision to start her own jewelry business, using her maiden name as the title of her company. As the business grew, so did Maureen’s family; she and her husband have two daughters who now work alongside her in her studio, as well as two other employees, and they are as busy as Napoleonic bees.

Maureen buys gemstones throughout the world, an effort made easier with the rise of internet markets, and creates pieces that, like any French woman worth her salt, are understated and always chic.

Delicate knots of cotton macrame are paired with latticework for

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earrings that resemble New Orleans’ gallery balustrades. Laid-back rattan and pearl come together in a nod to Martinique or St. Croix.

When her gemstones take the stage, their names are as poetic as Anais Nin: Pink Chalcedony, Magenta and Lemon Quartz, Morganite, Lavender Jade, Amazonite, Aventurine and Amethyst. My personal favorites are the Triomphe Aquamarine and Agate Earrings and the Remy Wicker necklace ... perfect for a Mother’s Day gift. There is a Versailles Treillage Gold Bangle that is as regal as its name. The earrings Maureen wears during our interview (she takes them off for me to see better) are a curiously beautiful re-imagining of dogwood blossoms with pearl drops, delicate and effortless and so very French, of course.

She also offers unique jewelry for children in her “Littles Collection,” tiny and charming pieces for girls that mimic the women’s

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collection on a miniature scale. Her Dana Gold Heart Locket Necklace for little girls is a classic, timeless piece, delicate and simple, perfect for a special occasion or gift. There is a Little Cross Necklace, made of freshwater pearl, available in sterling silver or 14k gold chain, just right for a first communion or baptism.

Maureen offers a wholesale program for stores and shops that would like to carry her jewelry collection. Line sheets are available for those interested. As her jewelry line continues to expand into brickand-mortar stores across the United States, as well as internationally, she plans to continue to add to her collections as her company grows.

Maureen, as a successful businesswoman, is proud that she can serve as a model for her daughters and hopes they will carry the legacy of her work forward from those long-ago days when she first fell in love with her own mother’s jewelry box treasures.

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across miss iss ippi BEST TRIPS FOR COUPLES With intimate bed and breakfasts, quaint towns and natural escapes, The Magnolia State offers memorable romantic getaways for couples.

Coastal Region Escape to Coastal Mississippi for a romantic getaway on the shore. With 62 miles of pristine beaches and quaint coastal communities, The Secret Coast is a beautiful haven for couples to relax and explore. Couples can begin the trip with a beautiful scenic drive along the Gulf Coast Scenic Byway, stretching from Henderson Point to Biloxi. Stop along the way to take a stroll on the picturesque beaches and explore one of the many charming coastal towns before wrapping up the day with a Gulfport Moonlight Cocktail Cruise. This 2 hour sunset boat ride allows couples to enjoy the views of the Gulf Coast while enjoying music, light snacks and a full bar-- a relaxing and intimate way to end the night. Above: Ship Island (credit Laura Grier). Right: Biloxi Pier (credit Coastal Mississippi). Opposite: Biloxi (credit Tate Nations).

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Delta Region With railroad tracks converted to a walkable, charming greenway lined with locally owned shops and award-winning restaurants, Downtown Cleveland is a great destination for couples.

The Cotton House hotel, which overlooks the greenway, has comfortable accommodations, houses Delta Meat Market by James Beard-nominated chef and boasts a rooftop bar with incredible views and a romantic outdoor firepit. For additional activities in the destination, couples can catch a show at the Bologna Performing Arts Center, hear live music at the historic Ellis Theater or enjoy a sunset picnic at Terrene Landing, which is situated on a low bluff on the Mississippi River in nearby Rosedale. Pictured: Delta Meat Market (credit Sean Johnson).

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Capital Region Known as the “Little Easy,” the quaint city of Natchez, Mississippi is an area enriched by southern charm and is best known for its beautiful historic homes, with more than 1,000 houses listed on the National Register of Historic Places, easy-going river town lifestyle and a city population that feels like family. Couples can expect a quiet, intimate trip in Natchez with its quaint, walkable downtown teeming with art galleries, museums, cozy coffee shops and restaurants that serve the best in Southern fare, all a short walk to the beautiful riverside bluff, boasting some of the best views of the Mississippi River. Natchez is also known as the Bed and Breakfast Capital of the South, with over 40 homes to choose from, and places like the Devereaux Shields are not only romantic with its blooming gardens and 19th century furnishings, but they offer elopement and wedding packages for the couples who are ready to seal the deal Natchez-style. Other bed and breakfasts and historic homes like Longwood and Stanton Hall are well-preserved in their 19th century grandeur and offer immersive tours that will feel like taking a step back in time.

When couples are not relaxing in their historic bed and breakfast, taking strolls to admire the Greek Revival architecture around town or indulging in the region’s best dining at restaurants like Magnolia Grill or Carriage House, activities like taking a carriage ride or ghost tour with Downtown Karla Brown, learning the art of biscuit-making in Chef Regina’s cooking classes or traversing parts of the Natchez Trace Parkway will beautifully fill itineraries for the couples seeking a quintessential Southern small-town getaway.

Right: Longwood, a historic home.

Opposite: Riverside Bluff Natchez and Natchez Trace Parkway (credit Visit Natchez).

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Northeast Region Couples “Can’t Help Fallin’ in Love” in Elvis’ birthplace of Tupelo. Kick things off with a stop by The King’s birthplace museum for a look at Elvis’ early years before visiting The Dance Studio to perfect the two-step together. After breaking a sweat, sweethearts can lift a glass of Chocolate Covered Cherry mead and toast to time together at Queen’s Reward, the state’s first and only meadery made from Mississippi Bees. After a couple glasses of sweet-as-honey wine, the destination’s newest Hotel Tupelo will be the perfect spot to lay their head. The boutique property is located in the historic Fairpark District, the hub of Tupelo’s dining and shopping scene.

Left: welcome to Tupelo mural. Above: Hotel Tupelo. Right: Elvis Guitar Trail.

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Central Region Couples looking for a quaint romantic getaway can explore the charming town of Columbus, Mississippi.

To escape everyday life and enjoy an intimate atmosphere, couples can choose from one of the many bed and breakfasts, such as the Shadowlawn Bed & Breakfast. The twostory antebellum mansion offers a delicious breakfast, guided tours of the property and driven tours of the “Columbus Historic South Side”. Beyond the bed and breakfast, sweethearts can take a stroll through Columbus’ vibrant Historic Downtown District filled with specialty shops, restaurants and historic buildings.

Couples may even have the opportunity to take part in one of the many events hosted on Main Street throughout the year, such as farmers markets and art festivals.

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Visit visitmississippi.org for more travel ideas.

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swee t magnolia bloss oms Photos provided by Weston Farms

WESTON FARMS Story by Kat Privett-Duren

Erin Weston had no intention of becoming a farmer. Although she had been working at various gardens since she was only sixteen, her life had swept her into the world of publishing and the bustle of New York City.

Yet, fate had other ideas. Upon landing an interview at Martha Stewart Living, Erin found herself working with her father in order to generate a few professional pitches. As a horticulturist, Noel Weston introduced his daughter to a verdant, boundless world that she found intriguing. Erin remembers, “There were stories to tell there.” What she didn’t know yet was that her own story was just beginning.

When Erin inherited a property from her uncle in North Carolina, she moved down to manage what was then only bare land. The relocation was

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not meant to be a permanent one, yet the place began to weave itself around her feet, and she remembers saying to herself: “I think I’ll stay a little longer—but then every year, it became more and more enticing.” And while at first Erin set out to create a vegetable farm, the labor of that endeavor lost its romantic charm quickly: “That first year, I was picking okra and thought: this is not sustainable. I had one hundred acres, and it wasn’t the 1700s.” Perhaps even more disheartening was what Erin described as “labor without creativity,” a vocation that would not sustain nor nourish the woman who had studied Art History at UNC Chapel Hill. That imaginative side of Erin yearned to be set free, but it wouldn’t be long before the farmer would find a way to incorporate the artist.

Upon that inherited acreage was a lone magnolia tree, her grandmother’s, and one that Erin calls “the mother of all the ideas.”

Today, there are over ten thousand Magnolia grandiflora trees thriving on the land that became Weston Farms. Even here, her father was seminal in manifesting her dreams, as Erin recounts: “we bought five of every brightly-colored thing we found on a west coast trip with dad. He loved

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to propagate plants—most things were done in the hothouse in the early years.” And while some of those very cypresses and conifers have found a home on Erin’s farm, there’s one tree closest to her heart. As Erin puts it: “The magnolia chose me. I did not choose the magnolia. I think the first time I made garland, I did it differently from anything else out there. I made it in classical proportions, incorporating elements that had been in my dad’s conifer collection and using unique colors, such as rich yellows and chartreuse.” After one particular afternoon of showcasing her wares at High Point Market, Erin returned to find that someone had taken her garland and left a note that simply explained: “This is the most beautiful thing. I had to have it. Please let me know how much money I owe you.” While recounting this foundational moment for her business, Erin chuckles. After all, she had created something that mattered to someone.

Today, Weston Farms offers wreaths, garlands, and bouquets that are infused with Erin’s travels and knowledge of art history. For instance, her Antiquity Wreath was informed by ancient wreaths that were open at their pinnacle, much like horseshoes. As Erin will tell you, these designs date back to the Romans and the Greeks and are founded upon a rich legacy. At Weston Farms, that nod to precedent comes together through collaboration with other designers and culminates in a luxurious product for any home or event.

All of Weston Farms’ wreaths and garlands are created within fortyeight hours after purchase and can be refreshed with a subscription service, although Erin stands by the longevity of her work: “I just threw away one of my very first heart wreaths that I made fifteen years ago. Made fresh dries beautifully!” When asked which botanical rendition was her favorite, Erin was clearly smitten with one in particular: the Après Collection. Inspired by an Après ski season, this collection speaks to Erin’s contention that winter should be celebrated: “Why hate winter? Let’s just embrace it! You listen to Ella Fitzgerald and have some mulled wine and make it cozy. I have always felt that some of the romanticism of winter is just turned off after Christmas.” And cozy, these creations are: the Fireside Wreath (not available until January) is a warm and celebratory addition to the chill and frost of late winter.

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However, fresh-to-dried creations are not the only artistic expressions of the beloved magnolia available at Weston Farms. Erin continues to explore the marriage of fresh and faux botanicals, as she admits that she hasn’t yet fully realized the potential product range of her company. One of her most unique products is the WF Large Magnolia Bloom, a creation made by the first botanically-accurate faux flower company in Greenville, North Carolina. New Growth Designs, a company that renders the botanicals for Tiffany’s, has immortalized the short-lived flower into an exact replica of a bloom from Weston Farms. The story Erin tells of its inception is woven around a memory of her father in the last days of his life: “My dad was in hospice and really wanted a clip on this faux bloom.” It was to be the last project that Erin worked on with her father before he passed away, and the bloom now has a sturdy clip incorporated into the design.

It would seem that Erin has inherited her father’s determination. In the works at Weston Farms are plans for moving into fundraising opportunities that could bring in different parts of the community, such as schools and charities. As always, Erin Weston continues to travel for inspiration and vision, bringing home the art of culture and design to her thriving farm and business. The timeless charm of her work spills over into her own home, as she incorporates memories and nostalgia into the classic use of magnolia in her décor: “I don’t put up a tree, but I do work with my mantle. When you get a special pair of shoes, you get a ribbon—and now, I’ve incorporated all of them into that piece. Tiddly bits, I call them, the little things that I find in nature, my travels, and my experiences. I leave it up twelve months out of the year.” While the magnolia is an oft-overlooked mainstay in botanical design, Erin has reintroduced its foliage as a classic addition to weddings, holidays, and the simple comforts of home. When asked to name the one thing that is special about the tree, her response was simple: “I can’t do just one. Our magnolias are grown in a way that allows for the dark, rich, chocolatey brown and vibrant green from the very tip-top of the tree. It’s a luxury botanical. I think that’s what I wanted to do when I moved to North Carolina: create a luxury product that was grown on the farm. Magnolia embodies that.”

And, much like Weston Farms’s founder, it’s one tenacious, elegant force.

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By Mary Dansak When John Henry was a little baby Sitting on his mama’s knee, He picked up a hammer and a little piece of steel Saying, “Hammer be the death of me, Lord, Lord, Hammer be the death of me.”

You should hear my stepfather singing and playing this song on the piano. The house trembles with his deep voice and the rolling bass notes at his fingertips. You can’t help but sing along. The song tells of the exploits of the enormous “steel driving man,” John Henry, who challenges that new-fangled steam drill to cut through the mountain with just his sledgehammer. Although he beat that blasted steam drill, John Henry died with a hammer in his hand (Lord, Lord, he died with a hammer in his hand).

Picture books, ballads, and telling-round-the-table have kept his story alive. We admire John Henry’s determination, his strength, and in some versions of the song, his prowess with the ladies. And although none of us would actually choose to return to the days of laundering linens with a washtub, we relate to the “man vs. machine” conflict. In our deepest heart of hearts, most of us are reluctant to launch blindly into uncertainty and will always root for the man.

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John Henry is a fine representative of one of my favorite cultural phenomena: the folk hero. A folk hero is one whose name, deeds, or personality has imprinted on our popular consciousness. Folk heroes are often associated with regions, such as Paul Bunyan in the heavily forested area of the upper Midwest and Billy the Kid in the wild, wild West. Not surprisingly, when I began looking into our southern folk heroes, I found delightful contradictions and unlikely heroes with stories as complex and convoluted as the south itself.

Take Jeanne Lafitte, for example, a celebrated pirate who enjoyed a lucrative life as a thief and smuggler in the early 1800s, stealing goods, including humans, as they entered the port of New Orleans. Due to his intrepid and skilled abilities to navigate the swamps and bayous of New Orleans, he was recruited to fight the British in the Battle of New Orleans in exchange for clemency for the illegal activities of himself and his men. They fought valiantly with General Andrew Jackson, earning distinction, and were pardoned for all their misdeeds. Despite this celebration, Jeanne Lafitte returned to his villainous ways.

Today, the purported oldest bar in America bears his name, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar in New Orleans. On any given day, this dark and stony establishment is full of tourists toasting the exploits of our questionable hero. I myself have visited Lafitte’s and raised a glass to the pirate who, despite living on the wrong end of the law, used his crafty wiliness to not only earn distinction in battle but to serve ever

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so briefly as governor of Texas, where he continued to loot the Spanish ships, even in his gubernatorial role.

No one knows the truth of his final days or where he buried all his treasure. Some say it’s still out there, buried in the murk and muck of the Louisiana bayous. Others say it’s buried off the coast of Texas. Still, others have supposedly drained swamps in search of his riches. The fun is in the never-knowing.

Unlike Jeanne Lafitte, our folk hero Casey Jones lived a proper and upright life as a railroad engineer. Casey Jones was known for his precision on the rails as well as his speed. The story goes that on one fateful night he volunteered at the last minute to work for a fellow engineer. Despite his reputation as a perfectionist, he pushed his train to the limit, speeding into the station in Vaughan, Mississippi, only to discover another car on the rails. He was able to pull the alarm to warn the other passengers onboard to jump to safety, which they did just before the gruesome crash. Everyone survived except Casey Jones, who died with one hand on the alarm and one hand on the brake.

I first learned of Casey Jones as a youngster riding the train at the zoo, which was almost as exciting as seeing the elephants. Just before the tunnel, in which we screamed our tiny lungs out, there was a grave beside the track. “Here Lies Casey Jones,” the headstone read. Scruffy boot toes peeked from the foot of the grave.

“He gave his life for his passengers,” adults around me explained

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to the confused children on board the zoo train. Clearly, Casey Jones deserves hero status. In my way, I pay him respect frequently.

Whenever I see a train speed by, I think, “Here lies Casey Jones.”

While some of our folk heroes were real people with questionable stories and exaggerated exploits like John Henry, Jeanne Lafitte, and Casey Jones, others are pure fiction. Take Huckleberry Finn, or Huck Finn as we call him. Who among us hasn’t tried his whitewashing-isfun trick to get someone else to do our dirty work? And I can honestly say that I’ve never threaded a needle without calling to mind poor Huck pretending to be a girl and pulling that needle up to the thread, fooling no one. Sometimes a trickster, sometimes a hooligan, Huck’s lasting lesson to us mortals is that friendship conquers all. No matter how controversial Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn becomes, Huck Finn will forever be a beloved part of our collective psyche.

From Davey Crocket (“King of the wild frontier!”) to Billy the Kid to Bonnie and Clyde, our folk heroes run the gamut of morality and decency, but they all have one thing in common: their stories endure.

Although those stories may change from family to family, generation to generation, their overarching threads remain the same.

Be on the lookout for the ghosts of our folk heroes popping up in conversations and references in your day-to-day life. You may be surprised at just how prevalent and endearing, they are.

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FERAL HOG INVASION Story by John N. Felsher

Reminiscent of John Wayne’s movie Hatari! we sped across a South Florida field while a massive tusked animal thundered alongside our vehicle.

We released “strike” dogs trained to chase feral hogs. Soon, several agitated hounds “bayed” the enraged 250-pound porker in a thicket. We sprang from the vehicle and raced to the ruckus.

With the tusked monster at bay, we released the “catch” dog, a battle-scarred pit bull who absolutely hated pigs. The powerful pit chomped down on a sensitive part of the boar’s anatomy while two men tackled the tusker and wrestled it to the ground. They kept it immobilized until my son, Daniel, could kill the swine with his knife.

“Even with a catch dog, catching wild hogs alive is still pretty dangerous,” cautioned Mike Tussey, with Osceola Outdoors (239253-5876, www.osceolaoutdoors.com) in Naples, Florida. “I know people who were severely hurt by hogs. If the person or dog lets the pig go and it gets up, we’re faced with a big boar full of teeth and tusks that’s extremely mad. It could get ugly fast.”

Native to Eurasia, domestic pigs first came to North America with European explorers, possibly as early as 1498. The Spaniard Hernando de Soto landed near present-day Tampa, Florida in 1539. He brought 200 domestic pigs to feed his troops as the expedition wandered across what would become the southeastern United States. Inevitably, some swine escaped into the wild. Highly adaptive, these pigs thrived and multiplied.

By the late 19th century, many game populations plummeted. To give themselves another animal to hunt, some sportsmen released wild Eurasian boars. These animals hybridized with feral domestic pigs. Their descendants now number in the millions and populate more than 35 states and parts of Canada.

Feral hogs range from Oklahoma across the South to Virginia.

From Tennessee northward, the population becomes more scattered, but hogs continue to expand their range as the population grows. A western population spreads across California and parts of Oregon, Washington and Idaho. The highest population densities occur in Texas, Florida, Louisiana and California.

“By the time Eurasian boars were brought in, we already had a well-established feral hog population,” explained Charlie Killmaster, a Georgia Department of Natural Resources game biologist. “Hogs were domesticated for 9,000 years and bred for high reproductive rates. Their reproductive rate far outpaces deer.”

Pigs can rapidly overpopulate an area. Unlike some wild animals with specific breeding seasons, pigs mate all year long.

Sows reach sexual maturity in six months and produce two litters per year. Litters usually average five to seven piglets, but could contain as many as 12. By the time the sow drops her second litter, her daughters begin giving birth. One breeding pair can produce thousands of descendants during their lifetimes.

A big boar can weigh more than 300 pounds, but average between

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Photo by Tes Jolly

100 and 250 pounds. With razor-sharp tusks and a mean disposition, an adult boar fears nothing. In places, alligators eat a few pigs. Bobcats and coyotes occasionally grab piglets. In South Florida, cougars prey upon pigs. Black bears might finish off a wounded hog, but few animals want to challenge a large, ornery tusker.

Pigs can live practically anywhere and eat almost anything. They thrive in dense bottomlands and creek drainages. Feral swine regularly gather in social groups called sounders that include sows and their offspring.

“Hogs are a little more habitat limited than deer,” Killmaster advised.

“Many of their food sources are underground so they need softer soils.

They root around with their noses, and to a lesser extent, their tusks.

Hogs can exploit a much wider range of food sources than many other species.”

While rooting for food, pigs cause more than $2.5 billion in damages annually to crops, forestry, livestock and pastures, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. They destroy wildlife habitat, displace native animals such as white-tailed deer and outcompete others for food.

Swine can also carry diseases such as anthrax and brucellosis.

“Hogs are very destructive to crops, especially during planting time,” Killmaster warned. “Hogs will go down the planted rows eating all the seeds, forcing farmers to replant large portions of their fields. Hogs can cause damage to equipment because of how rough they make fields after rooting through them.”

Most states allow sportsmen to hunt these nuisance animals

all year long without limit. Some states even allow people to shoot hogs at night or from aircraft. Many states prohibit transporting live feral swine. Laws vary by state and could differ on public hunting properties, so always check before hunting.

“In Texas, if I catch a hog and don’t kill it, I’ll never be invited back on that property,” quipped Dan Moody with Dan Moody’s Texas Hunting Guide Services (888-561-8031, www.DanMoodyHunting.com) in Pearsall, Texas. “If I was a farmer, I’d want all the hogs on my property dead.”

However, hunters can only kill so many. Even if people kill 70 percent of the pigs in an area annually, survivors breed fast enough to replace those losses quickly. Even with dogs, hunters would never kill that many pigs in a year. Therefore, many landowners turn to trapping.

Tes and Ron Jolly live on 210 acres near Tuskegee, Alabama When they plant corn, hogs destroy the fields in a couple nights. The Jollys use a 32-foot diameter corral-like enclosure from Jager Pro Hog Control Systems (jagerpro.com) based in Fortson, Georgia Cameras send images to cellphones when hogs enter the enclosure.

“Anywhere that I can get a cell signal, even overseas, I can drop the gate by phone,” Tes said. “I want to make sure all the hogs are in the pen before I drop the gate. If one gets away or sees others caught in a trap, it’s next to impossible to catch that hog. Our biggest single drop caught 31 hogs. Since 2016, we’ve caught about 700 pigs.”

With landowners begging people to kill hogs and states encouraging the harvest, sportsmen could find an enthusiastic welcome if they ask to shoot hogs on their properties.

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Meaty Delicacy Owes Its Name To Hungry Pirates

By John N. Felsher

Tired of poor rations onboard ships, European sailors centuries ago frequently released hogs on Caribbean islands to provide a steady source of fresh meat. With few or no natural predators in those islands, the pigs thrived.

To survive, castaways, marooned pirates and other people who found themselves living on small Caribbean islands killed feral hogs to eat. They prepared the meat by hanging strips on wooden racks called “buccans” and slowly drying the pork over fires.

Our word “jerky” comes from the Spanish word “charque,” a corruption of the Native American word “ch’arki,” which means “to cut things into long strips” or “to dry meat.” Prepared this way, the meat could last a long time without refrigeration in the tropical heat.

These jerky makers became known as “buccaneers.” When not chasing hogs or drying meat, many of these people raided passing ships, giving a second meaning to the word buccaneer!

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Eyeshine in a Louisiana Bayou Story by Mary Dansak One sweltering summer weekend many years ago, my husband and I were visiting New Orleans when we ducked into one of those little corner stores where tourists go to pick up tickets for shows and tours. We’d stepped in just for the air conditioning, but were soon lulled by the rows upon rows of colorful brochures lining the walls. Amid the haunted houses and graveyards pictured on the glossy advertisements, I spied an alligator swimming alongside a boat full of gawking humans. “Let’s go on a Swamp Tour,” I heard myself say, and next thing we knew, we were headed out of the Big Easy to a no-name town off a winding dirt road that held more trepidation than promise.

About the time I considered growing uneasy, we saw the hand-painted sign announcing our arrival at “Cap’n Dave’s Swamp Tours.” While Joe took care of the logistics, I walked around the grounds, admiring crumbling wooden decorations of alligators and pirates, paint chipped and weathered.

As I was gawking at a large rodent in a cage, which turned out to be a nutria, or as the sign proclaimed, a “Louisiana Swamp Rat,” we were called to board the Swamp Queen IV along with some 20 other sightseers.

As soon as we boarded our Swamp Queen, I pulled my pink Moleskin notebook out of my purse and stood attentively, pen poised and ready to record the stories and wisdom of the swamp as relayed to us by none other than Cap’n Dave himself.

“Now if you’re hunting gators,” he began in a booming voice, “shoot once, then gig. That way you don’t mess up the head. Heads are worth $25 to $200. You saw ‘em back there where you got your tickets, right? Alligator heads?”

Although I didn’t know exactly what to expect here on my first swamp tour, I knew we wouldn’t be killing any alligators. Surely, we’d be learning more than hunting tips. Turns out we were going to learn whatever Cap’n Dave, self-proclaimed Original Cajun Swamp Guru, wanted to tell us.

We learned that Cap’n Dave had been on a television show I’d never

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heard of and have since forgotten. We learned that part of it was filmed in a rustic cabin that Burt Reynolds himself built for use in a major motion picture he was making down here in the bayou. I’ve forgotten the name of that major motion picture as well. I tapped my pencil anxiously, wanting to get on to the swamp lore.

Cap’n Dave eased the Swamp Queen IV closer to a narrow stream leading to the movie-set cabin. Excited that we might be headed upstream into what looked like wild territory, I sighed aloud when I felt the boat veer back into the open water.

“Who here knows the difference in a bayou and a canal?” Cap’n Dave asked the crowd on the boat. A canal, we learned, is a man-made waterway, whereas the bayou is made by nature. As I frantically scribbled these words, I realized I had no idea what a bayou is. I later learned that it’s the area near a stream, creek, or river where the water flows so slowly that it can reverse directions with the tide. “This is a canal,” Cap’n Dave went on. I was disappointed to be in a man-made waterway and not a natural one, as if purchasing an overpriced ticket in a tourist shop in Jackson Square in New Orleans on a crowded summer weekend entitled me to an up close and personal encounter with the wild.

Still, I looked forward to entering the swamp, that place where the water spreads out like a blanket across a mucky and lush undergrowth. I know what a swamp is: the water barely moves at all. Despite the fact that we were on a “Swamp Tour” on a boat named “Swamp Queen IV,” we never entered a swamp. Other than a few minutes of navigating through great masses of water hyacinth (“They’ll clog up an engine like nobody’s business and make the motor flat-out quit!” Cap’n Dave informed us), we cruised along in open water. Great cedar trees with their iconic knees drawn in towered above us on both banks, suggesting the presence of herons and cranes and dark tannic waters further back, but we stayed centered. To one side there was a nature reserve, to the other side a nature preserve, the difference being you can hunt on one side, but “you better not let ‘em catch you with a gun” on the other, respectively.

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And then we saw the gators. Some were sunning themselves on logs, others swimming slowly in our direction.

“Maybe he’ll throw ‘em some marshmallows,” a portly woman beside me suggested. “That’s what they did last time I was on one of these swamp tours. Got me to thinking, maybe that’s why they call them MARSHmallows.

Write that down, sweetie.” She tapped my notebook with a bejeweled pointer finger and winked.

I snickered politely and being a good southern girl, minded my elder and wrote it down. Cap’n Dave did not offer any marshmallows, but someone had been feeding those gators something, because they bee-lined toward our boat. The Swamp Queen III pulled up near us, and everyone on both boats streamed to the best vantage points to take pictures of the gators and themselves, each of us feeling less touristy than the rest, calling up our own special connections to the swamps.

After a while, Cap’n Dave reached into a Styrofoam cooler where he’d stashed the Coca Colas and pulled out a baby alligator. It was a little thing, about two feet long. He told us it was a four year old juvenile. “I can calm it like this, just cover the eyes,” he said, and he held his hand over the creature’s face. Sure enough, the gator stopped thrashing its tail and torquing its body, and settled down into a still, solid presence. Then Cap’n Dave put a rubber band around the little gator’s snout and held it out to a passenger while giving us directions on how to hand off a baby alligator. You take the neck, then the tail, and keep it in a U shape.

Several people came forward to hold the little alligator. Every time he was passed from one person to the next, a tow-headed toddler reached out and tried to touch the gator on the tip of his nose. The gator didn’t respond, neither did the boy’s mother, but I found myself holding my breath. The strangely gentled reptile made his rounds, and everyone got out their phones and took pictures. The gator, unflinching, stared past them with his beady eyes.

Those dark alligators eyes told of a long reign of ruling lizards who literally kept their heads down and survived the second largest mass extinction the world has ever known. Those eyes saw an asteroid six miles

across come hurtling into our atmosphere and strike the ground with such force that it vaporized, ejecting a blanket of its own cosmic iridium which came to rest around the entire planet. Those eyes remember an impact so great it realigned the molecules of nearby quartz crystals, instantaneously melting grains of sand into tiny glass tektites, striking up a slow deathmarch that would last tens of thousands of years. The planet shook, blazed, froze, and gasped, while the crocodilians laid low and lumbered on.

The little gator captivated me with his seductive eyeshine. When it was my turn to hold him, I stared into those eyes, trying to see past the reflective cells and into the windows of the alligator’s soul, but all I saw was myself, staring back.

I handed the gator on to a young man in an Army jacket and turned my attention to Cap’n Dave, who continued to regale us with tales of the lowlands. He told us that Henry Ford was enchanted with both the cedar trees and the Spanish moss that grow here in the Louisiana bayou, and had the moss imported to his automobile factories, packed in cedar boxes. The planks from the boxes were made into running boards for Model As, and the seats were stuffed with Spanish moss. “And that’s how chiggers caused the first automobile recall!” Cap’n Dave laughed. I haven’t had the heart to fact check these stories.

Soon people grew bored of the little alligator, and Cap’n Dave returned him to his Styrofoam box, the rubber band still snugly binding his jaws. Folks got busy with the hand sanitizer, took out their phones, and updated their Facebook statuses as the Swamp Queen IV pulled back into the docking area where another group of tourists awaited their adventure.

Henry Ford was right. The cedar trees and Spanish moss are beautiful. I could ride around on a boat in those canals, or bayous, all day, preferably without a Cap’n Dave. I said goodbye to the caged nutria, and felt sad for him and the baby gator in the Styrofoam cooler.

But when I thought about those gators in the swamp, I felt nothing but relief. They’ll be okay. In the end, to the victor go the spoils. After the next mass extinction, there will be no humans left to tell the story, but there will be gators, creepy-crawling through the murky swamps and bayous.

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cathead distill ery A NOD TO THE BLUES Story by Denise DuBois Vodka, gin, bourbon, and sparkling …pick your favorite. Cathead Distillery has every taste you need.

Cathead Distillery is the first and oldest legal distillery in Mississippi. It was founded in 2010 by Austin Evans and Richard Patrick who share a love for creating spirits and listening to blues.

Together, they created a distillery that boasts seven award-winning, small-batch spirits that include: Cathead original Vodka, Cathead Honeysuckle Vodka, Cathead Bitter Orange Vodka, Bristow Gin, Hoodoo Chicory Liquor, and Old Soul Bourbon Whiskey. They also produce a line of canned cocktails, Cathead Sparkling.

“We’re proud to produce authentic, small-batch spirits inspired by Mississippi, the Gulf coast and beyond, that give a taste of the South with every sip,” said Richard.

But what is a Cathead, you may ask. Cathead is a term in Mississippi that was coined by blues musicians as a nod to artists who they respected. Artists and musicians went on to use “Catheads” in many forms of folk art, as a way to pay the rent and share their legacies.

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“The name ‘Cathead’ itself is a nod to our roots in Mississippi, the home of blues music - a genre that has deeply influenced all forms of American music,” he added. “We work to bring honor to the meaning of Cathead through our philanthropic support of live music and musicians alike. On each bottle of Cathead Vodka, our flagship spirit, is the words ‘Support Live Music,’ where a portion of proceeds from every bottle sold goes to support like-minded organizations, including Magic City Blues Society, Music Maker Foundation, New Orleans Musicians’ Clinic & Assistance Foundation, North Mississippi Hill Country Picnic, Yoknapatawpha Arts Council and Southern Foodways Alliance.”

All of the spirits from the distillery are crafted onsite in Jackson, Mississippi.

“Each one is a bit unique in how it’s made, whether that’s our Bristow Gin, Cathead Vodka, Old Soul Bourbon, or Hoodoo Chicory Liqueur, but they’ve all got one thing in common: they’re made in small batches from authentic and regionally sourced ingredients,” Richard said.

Asking him to choose his favorite is like asking him to choose his favorite song.

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Photos by Andrew Welch “There are certain occasions for each spirit,” he said. “At home, I usually nightcap with an Old Soul Fashioned with my better half. When I’m out, I’ll start with a dirty Bristow Gin Martini. If I’m enjoying the backyard or the pool, it’s a Cathead Sparkling. I genuinely love everything that we make and there’s tons of versatility in our portfolio of spirits.”

But one thing is for certain, he loves what he’s doing in the distilling and music industries.

“Our industry is fast moving, fun, takes you a lot of places, and is overall a pretty happy environment. But most of all, it’s never boring.

The stewardship role that Austin and I sit in has a lot of responsibility, and fortunately, all the above makes our job fulfilling,” he said.

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Cathead Distillery was named a 2020 James Beard semi-finalist for Outstanding Spirits Producer and is celebrated not only for its authentic products, but for a strong commitment to their community. Cathead also donates a portion of proceeds to nonprofits that contribute to the region’s abundant arts and culture. Cathead Distillery is an event-driven facility and a place for both locals and tourists to enjoy spirits tastings, live music, community, and a cold beer.

The distillery is currently closed for tours and tastings, but that shouldn’t stop you from visiting the online store for merchandise and to order some delicious flavors of your favorite spirit. Take the chance to try something new.

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BERRY SMASH

1.5 oz. Cathead Raspberry Vodka .5 oz. maple syrup 6-8 raspberries 3 mint leaves 2 lime wedges, squeezed Soda water Combine lime juice, mint leaves, and fresh berries in shaker. Muddle 4-5 times. Add vodka, maple syrup, and several ice cubes. Shake and double strain into rocks glass over fresh crushed ice. Top with soda water.

Garnish with lime wedge, mint sprig, and a raspberry.

Our take: This one was fun to make. Any bartender worth her salt has a muddle. I had to make do with a rubber spatula. Don’t even ask how it went. The raspberry vodka on its own is excellent. Ordinarily, I don’t like vodka on the rocks, but I could see myself sipping this one with its hint of flavor. Anyway, on with the cocktail. I stirred my drink several times to make sure I had a good mix instead of just the soda water on top. After a few sips, I could pick out the minty flavor. I was nervous about the maple syrup, but it blended so well that it added just a little bit of sweetness. The raspberry is the dominant flavor, and I liked it a lot. It’s light …like a spritzer. I imagine myself picking farmers market berries or adding other fruit to get a variety of flavors. I really feel like you could personalize it to your liking. It’s a strong one, so sip it slowly.

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NEGRONI SPRITZ

1 oz. Bristow Gin 1 oz. Campari 1 oz. Sweet Vermouth Soda water Add all ingredients in a stirring glass, then add ice. Stir for 15 seconds. Strain and pour into a Collins glass. Top with ice and soda water.

Our take: This cocktail was easy. A few ingredients over ice. I’m there for it. I’m ashamed to admit, but this was the first time I’ve tried gin. I’ve never been a martini drinker. My martini glasses are filled with the Sex and the City staple: cosmopolitans. In fact, I’ve never tasted anything in the Negroni Spritz. I had to search Negroni to see what it’s all about, and now I understand. It’s not meant to be sweet. It’s traditional. It’s sophisticated. It’s a drink I may sip while creating a brilliant piece of prose. Add the soda water, and now it’s exciting. It’s playful. If you’ve never tried it, I urge you to expand your palate. You may discover a newfound favorite.

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mama said

JUST DON’T PAY ANY ATTENTION

By Leslie Anne Jones

My Great-Great Aunt Ginny just turned 104 years old. You read that right. 104. A petite woman, who speaks softly in a classic Southern accent, with a quiet, uplifting laughter that always makes you feel at ease. Gifted on the piano, when I think of her, my memories are mostly of listening to her play and sharing stories with my great-grandmother, her sister Loretta.

She is the last surviving of 8 siblings from the rural Georgia town of Pineview. You’ve probably never heard of it, but if you have, you know Pineview. Growing up, the stories I would hear! Pineview was more of a legend than an actual place - filled with characters like the onearmed gas station attendant named Snowball and Aunt Fannie with her grand antebellum home. And there was my great-great-grandparents’ general store that sold goods downstairs and caskets upstairs, where my grandmother and her gang would play hide-and-seek.

Pineview was a place of dreams to my grandmother as a child, but in reality, had its share of hard times. Just as much of the rural south did in the 1930s.

But I come from a long line of strong, southern women. The Blue side, well those women had more of a quiet strength. A quiet strength that navigated the depression era and all life’s difficulties hurled their way, with grace and resilience. And there were many difficulties.

Time marches on, as it always does. My great-grandmother passed and the visits with Ginny became less frequent. Eventually, she was moved to an assisted living facility on the outskirts of Atlanta.

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In 2019, on her 100th birthday my grandmother, mother, sister, and I traveled to see her and celebrate a century of life.

Ginny is just fourteen years older than my grandmother and once told me that she was always more like a sister than an aunt. Seeing the way they light up when they are together reflects a bond that only sisters can share.

We picked Ginny up from her home dressed in her Sunday best complete with her pearls (the Blues were always very stylish women) and took her to the only place we could find close by: an O’Charley’s. Taking her without permission was something we would later get in trouble for, but it was worth it. We laughed and listened to my grandmother and Ginny swap stories about the old days while eating microwaved spinach dip and we laughed and laughed.

When I asked Ginny her secret to living to 100, she replied in her sweet southern accent, “just don’t pay any attention.” What did she mean by that?

At the time, I took it to mean, just don’t pay any attention to what others think. Now that I’ve aged more myself, I wonder, did she mean, just don’t pay any attention to the age on your driver’s license? Or was it something else entirely?

Either way, I think it is sound advice. But don’t pay any attention to me.

Spring 2023 | 95

UNDER THE ARBOR: SOUTHERN EASTER TRADITIONS Story by Marian Carcache The custom of hunting colored eggs at Easter started in America when German immigrants brought their Osterhase celebration to Pennsylvania in the 1700s.

The children in Jernigan, Alabama in the 1950s knew nothing about that tradition, though.

What we did know was that after a sunrise service on Easter Sunday, there would be egg hunts – maybe in the cemetery behind the church or possibly in someone’s backyard. Our family kitchens would smell pungent like the vinegar that made the dye adhere to the eggs our mothers had dyed. And most likely there would be one egg wrapped in what was still referred to as “tinfoil.” It would serve as “the Golden Egg.” Among my photographs is a black-and-white picture taken after church one Easter Sunday in our community. Twins Coty and Chuck are adorable in sailor suits. Friends Enoch and Joe have on short suit pants, coats, and bow ties. I am standing in the middle of the line-up wearing a fancy pastel dress and flat bonnet that my greatgrandmother made for me. Joe holds a plush bunny by the ear.

I’ve also salvaged some grainy 35-milimeter moving pictures taken in my family’s backyard one Easter. The adults are gathered under the mulberry tree that used to shade our door, visiting while keeping an eye on the children searching for eggs. A brother is helping his baby sister, holding her by a hand to keep her steady. My own Easter basket that year is a market basket Mama had bought vegetables in at the farmer’s market. In the video I am carefully tilting it to keep my horde from spilling out the end that has come unwoven.

And what a treasure trove I had. That was the year my talented great-aunt had saved for months the shells from all the eggs she cooked for her family for breakfast, carefully piercing the ends of the shells with a needle and then blowing the yolk and white into a bowl to be cooked. Before Easter, she sat down and hand-painted each shell.

Some had faces and wore little hats she had crocheted for them, while on others she painted delicate flowers or glued on ribbon, rickrack, or other adornments.

Years have passed, and I won’t ever have the pleasure of spending time in the company of some of those friends again, or of sitting under the mulberry tree listening to the stories the adults exchange. But I still have Aunt Evelyn’s painted eggs, old photos, and the precious memories of those glorious days in Jernigan.

96 | Spring 2023 www.MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

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Gesus Palomino candied jalapeños can be used in so many different ways in the kitchen or in the bar. From marinating, appetizers, main dishes, cocktails...the list goes on and on!

Enjoy!

28 | Fall 2022

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