(Photo taken by Kelsey Blackwell)

Fresh off the Letterman show, Birmingham’s homegrown Wild Sweet Orange played to a sold-out crowd at Workplay in downtown Birmingham last Saturday. Amid the smell of lingering cigarette smoke brought in on the shirttails of the audience, and the mélange of sweat and aftershave from the dude curiously overheating in front of me, was the faintest scent of success. In addition to late night, the group’s had a track featured on Grey’s Anatomy and embarked on a nationwide tour that includes a stop in Chicago for Lollapalooza. Folks from the ‘ham, though, can say they knew them when . . .

(Photos by Jennifer V. Cole and Kathryn Cole)

This week, on a twisty stretch of Highway 21 outside Philadelphia, Mississippi, the 119-year-old Neshoba County Fair celebrates the very essence of Southern hospitality (July 25-August 1). I've been going since I was 3-months-old, and I can tell you, there's a reason it's known as "Mississippi's Giant House Party." For seven days, folks do a lot of eating (fried foods required), drinking (you might find some 'shine), front porch sittin', and late-night pickin'. It's a time to slow down. To forget laptops and cell phones. And to practice the art of conversation and storytelling on a lazy summer day. I just spent a weekend at the Fair catching up with friends and chasing around after my nieces and nephews (I've got the red-clay-stained feet to prove it), and I can't think of a better place to be in the month of July. If you've never been, add it to your list.  If you have been, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Here are a few photos of life at the Fair:

(Photo courtesy of Galatoire's Restaurant)

The New York Times published a story this morning about the return of Times-Picayune restaurant reviews for New Orleans, a missing part of the daily since Katrina nearly three years ago. First up for hometown scrutiny: Mr. B's Bistro in the French Quarter. The look in the mirror for NOLA means much more than an extra column in the paper. It means normalcy.

(Photo taken July 24 in Rogers, Arkansas)

Senior Photographer Art Meripol and I took the last couple days to visit the newest Minor League baseball stadium in America, Arvest Ballpark in Northwest Arkansas. Even as the lightning storm rolled over the Ozarks yesterday evening, I found myself quite happy. Ballparks are one of our country's greatest venues of communal joy. And farm team parks might be the ultimate of all summer American experiences. Lucky for us, the sun came out this afternoon just in time for the Texas League-leading Naturals to host the Tulsa Drillers.

Miesha Williams isn't a bartender, but she's as open-eared as any Moe I've ever met pulling tap handles.

photos courtesy of Cochon

I see a menu with things like "bacon," "pork belly," and "fried pig's ear," and, friends, I become giddy. I am aware that there are others (bless their hearts) who don't share this enthusiasm. But I'm a little zealous. So when I recently sat down to lunch at Cochon, chef Donald's Link's porcine ode and one of New Orleans' most buzz-worthy restaurants, I whipped out my cell phone to immediately text all of my friends about the feast they were missing. Pork cheeks with a cornbread cake! Oyster and bacon sandwiches!  Pork ribs with watermelon pickle! The vegetarians weren't amused. But, my dear carnivores, get thee to the Crescent City.

(Photos taken by TB)

In the July heat that seems to rush up and down the Mississippi River and hover over New Orleans, I find respite at Hansen's Sno-Bliz on a boring corner of Tchoupotoulis Street. The crowds gather here like someone's golden retriever is telling spiritual secrets. Summer days, the masses line from the corner, stand inside a beaten screen door, and shuffle along the sunflower yellow line leading to Mr. Hansen's handmade, U.S. Patent-ed ice machine. Ten thousand aging photographs tell you the story you are standing in. The people in them testify to how worth it your wait will be.

(Inside the Spotted Cat, as seen from the back wall.)

"It's the best 100 feet of live jazz on the planet." I tell my friends this, relishing the hyperbole, a no-no for a writer, but convinced that if you gave me a jetplane for an evening I'd fly here, the 600 block of Frenchmen Street. Snug Harbor, dba, and the subject of this post, The Spotted Cat, puts out  jerk-your-head, smile-to-your-neighbor, tap-along music every night. The nine-year-old club, a former oysterhouse, ranks easily as my favorite.

photo by John O'Hagan

He's a god in Asheville, NC, brewing circles.

It's often said that the word "cocktail" originated in New Orleans. That it is derived from the French word coquetier, an egg cup that was used to serve spirited beverages in the Crescent City in the early 19th century. Whether New Orleans is the official home to the "cocktail" or not, a visit to NOLA (as the city's affectionately called) proves, if anything, that they take their drinks seriously. And now, the city has been honored with its own official cocktail--the sazerac. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

(Image by Jason Langley via Flickr)

Over the next few days, TALES FROM THE ROAD will post musings about one of the South's most treasured towns, New Orleans, the Crescent City of saints, trumpeters, magicians, French Creole recipes, and weatherworn wrought iron. The resurgence is evident to any traveler to NOLA, whether eating barside at Clancey's or strolling down Chartres, catching the streetcar on St. Charles or stopping by the new Musicians' Village.

Even in the summer warmth, there is no city in America quite like New Orleans. So, check in through the weekend to learn where, what, who and why we love this city of endless lagniappes.

"Is that the first time you've ever said 'Avocadolicious?'  Because that's the first time I've ever heard it."

Full disclosure: I didn't overhear this. 

Sharks, rays, and groupers, oh my! The fish at the Georgia Aquarium really are big enough to cause me to pause . . . I've donned a wetsuit and mask, and I'm floating in the world's largest aquarium feeling as if I've discovered another universe. And I have. I've joined the Journey With the Gentle Giants program, which places six guests face to face with Trixie and Alice, 20-foot-long whale sharks. For a price (and yes, it's priceless!), you too can join the marine biologists on a daily swim here.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been on the hunt for unusual signs. Below are photos of a few of the standouts – some clever, one brazen, some just whacky. Take a gander at what follows and if you have any you’d like to share, feel free to email them to me @ richarda_banks@timeinc.com.

Running Wild (above)

Is your carpet stain free? Perhaps your child sleeps through the night without a fuss. Your home, it seems, is just too peaceful. Well, Palmana’s Café in lovely downtown Winter Park, FL, offers a simple solution.

(Photograph by MacQ)

I realize you are reading this in the simmer of summer. And I know, far west Texas (194 miles southeast of El Paso to be exact) does not bode well for cooling off. But in Marfa, nearly mile-high elevation and devoid of hellish humidity, the Thunderbird Hotel truly is a Highway 90 oasis of flair and of temp. Yes, revamped with Marfa’s own style-of-thumb (local art in rooms, Judd-inspired spareness, Sante Fe in feel), the Thunderbird uses its desert locale with reclaimed oil-piping latticework and well-groomed cacti. But it’s the cool-conscious list of hotel amenities that keep guests out of the heat and in the hip, indoors and outside, with vintage offerings and thoughtful features. The West never was so chic or so sunny.

(South Carolina's 1,500-year-old Angel Oak. Photo credit.)

When I think of trees, I think of the four spring-flowering Bradford Pears that made a square in my childhood backyard. How the trees formed a lane perfect for pitching baseballs (to my mother mostly). How I watched them, unknowingly, grow from weak treelings to wonderful, burgundy-leafed adults. And how they sort of watched me rise as well. Trees are markers of the changing seasons, givers of shade, reminders of time, and anchors to place.

Here are a few famous ones in the South that bring to mind the words of William Cullen Bryant, "The groves were God's first temples."

(Photo of Charleston's Beard-winner, Hominy Grill, by Shayna Anne)

Foodie powers-that-be recently announced this year's James Beard Awards, the highest culinary accolade out there, America's meal medal of honor. The shindig, which you can see via pictures on the JB Foundation website, looked to be a real tony affair, with the tops of our nation's restauranteurs/chefs/food writers toasting their love of cuisine. And once again the  contingent who call our proud region home showed up bigtime at the celebration.