When’s the last time you wandered a trail?

Not a paved sidewalk, but a dirt path surrounded by the glory of nature?

As a kid, the woods behind my house held a hidden route. A gateway to adventure and endless games. One year, I walked it every day going to summer camp.

Later, the Virginia neighborhood where we raised our kids had tree-lined pathways leading straight to the pool. We must have taken that winding passage a thousand times, towels slung over our shoulders, feet kicking up dust.

Few things in life compare to a shaded stroll. Science agrees.

Studies show that breathing in the smell of the woods reduces stress and boosts the immune system, even increasing virus-fighting cells. Basically, trees are out there saving lives.

Today, we hiked the Powhatan Creek Trail. Pure magic. There are marshes and creeks and a long, timber bridge which opens to a sprawling meadow. Wildlife chittered and chirped all around us. I got my steps in and improved my health. 

Turns out, the fountain of youth just might smell like pine needles.

My dad shot a lot of home movies in the ’70s.

His camera bulb blazed like the sun, and if you made the rookie mistake of looking straight at it, you’d see spots for days.

But Dad didn’t care if he blinded us. He documented everything — birthdays, holidays, vacations — dozens of reels stacked away for safekeeping.

About once a year, we’d dig them out and set up the clunky projector and retractable screen. The process was a production: threading the film around sprocket wheels, tightening it just right. It seemed to take forever, but the anticipation only made it better. We knew treasures were about to be rediscovered.

Then, with the flick of a switch, the machine would hum to life. The footage was grainy and silent, but it didn’t matter. We were transported.

Thankfully, modern technology makes recalling memories a lot easier. Tonight, with three of our five kids home, we cast old family videos stored in Google Photos onto our flat-screen TV.

For hours, we traveled back to the early 2000s and relived the rush of newborn cries, first bike rides, summer swim meets, family gatherings, Christmas mornings. It felt so real, all over again. I’m still amazed — and deeply moved.

Movies are the closest thing there is to a time machine. So, I’m committed to recording more moments. Today’s video becomes tomorrow’s old footage.

And I’m grateful my kids won't scorch their retinas like I did in the early days. Though honestly? It was worth every blinding second. 

I attended a small college in rural northeast Georgia.

The cafeteria was modest but the hardworking staff always served up meals that tasted like home. And one evening a year, usually when spring flowers bloomed, they did something amazing — they moved their entire kitchen operation outdoors. 

There, on rows of sizzling grills, they cooked steaks for every student. Big, thick, juicy ones. Some of the best I’ve ever had. 

Because college kids rarely had fancy food, we felt like royalty. The team even set up long tables across the grass quad so we could dine together under the open sky.

That was years ago. But “steak night” still holds a certain magic.

Tonight was one of those nights. We celebrated a friend’s birthday at a local restaurant, and for three hours, we ate, talked, and laughed. Once again, I enjoyed a prime cut with good company.

I’ve learned that what’s on a plate isn’t the main draw. But the most important part? Who’s around the table.

Here’s to shared feasts with the ones you cherish, whether it be Filet Mignon or Vienna sausages.

My family has always loved surprises.

Tonight, at exactly 8:27 p.m., the plan unfolded.

My job? Keep Jess from suspecting anything. This is a near-impossible feat because she’s got a sixth sense for secrets. And this one had been in the works for days, with hidden texts and hushed coordination.

As the evening grew later, we took the dog for a neighborhood stroll. Timing was everything. Whenever Jess wasn’t looking, I stole a glance at my watch.

Right on schedule, we made it back the house. Somehow, I coaxed her upstairs. And the second she stepped into our bedroom — there they were. Our two JMU boys, sitting on the bed, grinning from ear to ear, home for an unexpected weekend visit.

If you ever want to make a momma happy, surprise her with her kids. Even Cali, our Golden Retriever, celebrated with zoomies.

The real shock? We pulled this off without someone accidentally texting the family group chat.

Today, a criminal was on the loose in our neighborhood.

No joke. Our block turned into a real-life crime thriller. Police cars and cops swarming. Urgent warnings flooding the community social media. Residents were told to lock up and stay put.

But us? Totally unfazed. We’ve got a guard dog with a bark that can shake walls and rattle bones.

However, that’s where the intimidation ends. Cali, our Golden Retriever, firmly believes that every human — yes, even a bloodied axe murderer in a postal uniform — is a long-lost friend.

To any robbers/escapees/crazy people: from behind the door, Cali sounds like she will rip your head off. But step inside, and she’ll lick you to death after beating you with a wagging tail.

You’ve been warned.