"I'm going to be an architect," said D'mauri Crowder, as he studied a pile of LEGO blocks while working on a project at the Shelby County Public Library.
"He's not kidding, either," said his mother, Katrina Blackburn, as she watched Crowder, 7, and his little brother, Darrion, 4, arrange their blocks at the library's LEGO Night, which falls on the last Thursday of each month.
"He is always sitting around drawing, sketching things he's says he's going to build someday," she said.
Nestled like a sparkling jewel in a quiet neighborhood near Todds Point Road, the home of Bruce and Ruth Pearce exudes almost as much beauty and charm as its mistress, Ruth Pearce, who sits with her husband sipping ice-cold lemonade on the screened-in back porch of their Civil War-era Victorian style home.
"We love it here and I guess you could say this is our favorite place. We eat out here a lot and we just love the scenery," she said.
Meat is probably the least transparent business on earth.
Our desire for cheap meat has created an industrial system that sates the American appetite of an estimated 200 pounds of meat per person each year. That’s about twice the global average. Plus, we seem to know very little about something we eat an awful lot.
The industrial meat business is predominately a closed system that takes place behind gated complexes, far from the potential consumer.
Traveling north on Todds Point Road, just before you get deep into the country, there is a large woodpile on the east side of the road. Roughly the size of the modest house and three greenhouses it surrounds, the woodpile seems to be way too much to heat a home, especially as we turn the corner into spring and summer.
So what’s the purpose of such a massive amount of wood? Well, Kenneth Terrell will tell you, if you have a few minutes to listen to his tale.