FROM THE EDITOR.

Mississippi summers are so defined in my a hot, sticky image that my mind a as time passes. Front porches and ceiling fans, watermelon and iced tea, Clinton Swim and Tennis and Lake Bruin. The last two items on that list are probably not in your recollection of what summer in our state means, but they are places that are forever etched in my definition of this sultry season.

As a child, I looked forward to school's end because I knew long days at the pool were awaiting me. Clinton Swim and Tennis was mere minutes from my house, and from the moment we awoke, my brothers and I were begging my mother to take us. We called it, simply, the Club. It wasn't very big; a regular-sized swimming pool with four or five tennis courts and a covered pavilion, but it was in the country, so the Club was surrounded by woods. My mother played tennis with the same group of ladies for years, and their children and my brothers and me were like one big gang, roaming the grounds of that establishment like we owned it. I was the only girl in the bunch, so I never got to choose what games we played. I don't remember that I was bothered by this fact; I just went along, being a cop or a robber, or a cowboy or Indian, whatever my assigned role for the day was. I learned from those boys, my childhood friends, how to do a front flip and a half gainer off of the diving board, to hold my breath long enough to s wim the entire length of the pool, and how to always win at Alligator Charge. Their families and mine are still good friends, and every time we all get together, I can't help but think about those summers.

Clinton Swim and Tennis eventually closed, and my mother's tennis group found another place to play. No matter how big or nice the new swimming pool was, our little gang never felt as at home as we had at our Club. Something about feeling a sense of ownership to a place that was such a big part of our lives when we were so young meant that no other swimming pool would ever be the same.

I don't swim in the summers as much as I did then, or even as much as I would like to, but when I get the chance, it makes me wonder why I don't more often. I love the water; I think I always have. Our family summer vacations were spent in the tiny community in Louisiana called St. Joseph, where my mother was raised, on Lake Bruin. I learned to swim in that brown lake water, and then later I learned to ski. Both of my parents grew up swimming and skiing on that lake; in fact they knew each other as children at Lake Bruin. Years later, when a college friend set them up on a blind date, they hadn't seen one another since they were 12 years old. I remember the smell of that lakehouse like I was there only yesterday; some memories, I think, instead of fading over time, only grow more vivid. My family sold the lakehouse around the time that Clinton Swim and Tennis shut its doors, and so new traditions had to begin; but the old ones are the ones that I think of most often. Over the past few years, my dad's side of the family has recreated an old tradition; every July we go back to Lake Bruin, stay for a week or so, and remember the lazy summer days that have not changed a bit since I was a child. Now, there are more houses on the lake these days, and a fancy new gas station has replaced the old shack of a store where we bought ice and drinks, but the wind and the smell and the way it makes you feel to be on the water all day long are exactly as I remember them.

In this issue, we take a look at those Mississippians who live on the water all the time. Our Gulf Coast section includes a story of the time-honored tradition of the Blessing of the Fleet, recipes from some of the area's best seafood restaurants, and a visit to the oldest remaining beachfront residence, Green Oaks Bed and Breakfast. Art director Lori Brechtel and I stayed at Green Oaks during the Blessing of the Fleet in Biloxi, and we were taken in by yet another facet of Mississippi's culture. There are the bright lights of the Coast's nightlife, but there also exists a definite value placed on peace and quiet, as well as a fierce clinging to tradition. We met so many nice people and drove through some really beautiful parts of our state; we really wished we could have stayed longer and explored more of the unique features our Coast has to offer.

We also examine in this issue the summertime activity of gardening. For those of you who have been using your summer vacation to work in the yard, "The Savory Simplicity of Herbs" (page 19) provides not only inspiration and practical advice for bringing herbs into your landscape, also helpful hints about what to do with the herbs once you begin harvesting them. From recipes to preserving techniques, this helpful article will make you an herb expert in no time.

Summer in Mississippi means different things to different people, I am sure, but it is our hope here at the magazine that this dead-heat-of-summer issue has something in it for each of you, and a good reason to sit in your favorite spot for relaxing just a little bit longer than you were planning.

Happy summer reading,

Jennifer Ellis West