Winter in North Mississippi can feel deceptive. One day it’s warm enough to open the windows, the next it drops into the 20s. The swings are fast , and the cold carries weight—bone-chilling from the humidity, settling in deeper than expected. Coming from Colorado, there was a certain confidence about cold weather—layers, gloves, business as usual. That confidence didn’t last long. An inch of ice turned out to be far more than expected. Trees froze solid, every limb coated in glass. When the wind picked up, the woods came alive with sound—sharp cracks, deep booms, and long echoes that carried through the night. Exploding trees are very real , and they make for anything but a quiet evening. On 40 wooded acres, it felt like the land itself was shifting. Power went out that first night. Thankfully, there was a generator for the food trailer that could be “plugged up,” as folks here say , keeping a few essentials running in the house. Everyone gathered into one place, generators humm...
We’re in Mississippi, and while it may still feel quiet on the surface, everything underneath is starting to move. Right now, we’re in that familiar in-between season — the calm before the boil. Traps are being set, lines are getting checked, and the rhythm of crawfish season is slowly coming back to life. If you know, you know… this is the part where patience matters. This year’s crawfish season is starting a little later than usual. Between the government shutdown and workers just now arriving, things took a brief pause. But that pause is ending. The gears are turning again, and any week now we’ll start seeing crawfish coming out of the water. There’s something special about being here for this part — watching the traps go in, feeling the anticipation build, knowing that soon sacks will be stacked, burners will be fired up, and that unmistakable crawfish steam will be rolling again. This is the groundwork. The preparation. The behind-the-scenes work that makes the season what it is. ...