Jeanne Malmgren

At first it was simply too huge, too overwhelming to comprehend.

As I write this, soft rain falls on my suburban neighborhood, and outside my window a minimiracle is occurring. What is that miracle? Silence.

Last week, my friend Eunice and I went for our usual Wednesday morning walk at the South Carolina Botanical Garden on the Clemson campus.

Mothers, of course, come in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some are sweet, some are surly. Some rule with an iron hand; others are total pushovers.

If there’s a fluffy friend sitting anywhere nearby as you read this column (and I certainly hope there is!), look down.

Sweaty, hormonal teenagers in formalwear ... and dancing "guidelines" that'll make you blush

Eons ago, before Earth Day was invented, before “green” became a corporate logo and a way to sell products, the earth was quietly putting on a show every spring.

Dot Jackson is going to have her a big ol' time this week.

Late one afternoon last week, I went to visit some trees.

I don’t mean to be a nag, but I feel it is my civic duty to remind you of an upcoming deadline.

How do you write an obituary for a horse? I’m not sure, but I’m going to try.

Last week I had lunch with a bunch of rowdy women, and let me tell you: We raised quite a ruckus in that restaurant.

Eating nothing but greens won't make you live forever, but it'll seem like it; here's food for the body and soul

When will we ever learn? Wild animals are wild.

I love winter. Truly. I do.