Dear Sunday Letter friends,
I woke this morning unsure of my whereabouts. LOL. In the past ten days, I’ve been driving all over the state, sleeping in a hotel, a bed and breakfast, my childhood home (aka the Bat Cave), and now, at my friend’s home in Jonesboro.
I’ll be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight.
Tour d’ Arkansas
I’ve been on a Tour d’ Arkansas.
First, I spent two days in Newport selling books at the Delta Arts Festival. Already that weekend seems a month ago. Then, after one night on the farm, I headed to Piggott where I spent five days at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer writing retreat. After a children’s summer reading event at the Keiser Public Library, I spent another night on the farm before driving here to Jonesboro.
Whew.
The good news—even with all the miles I’ve logged (and even with my lack of blogging)—I’ve been writing LOTS. New stories and essays, microfiction, reworking old pieces, thinking new things. I am returning home inspired. And that was my primary goal for this little jaunt around the state.
Black Oak
There are many thinks I brake for in the Delta. On this particular trip, I stopped to take a picture of an old cotton trailer, a cornfield, a small town water tower.
I have a special fondness for old water towers. Especially those with peeling paint and letters.
Who remembers the band Black Oak, Arkansas? I’ve driven through Black Oak many times. Every single time, even when I was a kid and we were on our way to the lake, I remember thinking what a miracle an actual group of guys made it out of such a small spot in the road not far from where I grew up. And that they were talented enough to have albums for sale down at the record shop in Osceola.
The best thing about solo road trips is pulling off the road on a whim to take pictures of an old water tower.
The band (those members still alive) occasionally tour—mostly in places like Memphis and Little Rock.
Sorry!
After reading to a handful of little boys who came to the Keiser Library, I played Sorry! with a young girl named Jessie.
So.Much.Fun.
Who remembers playing Sorry!?
I swear the game had dice back when I was a kid. Am I right, or am I mis-remembering?
I thought I could prove it by digging in my bedroom closet at the Bat Cave to find our original game. The light was burned out in the closet, and I was a bit worried I might find a snake (history is a powerful reminder), but still I braved it.
I found every game except Sorry!!
Water Everywhere
During my jaunt across Arkansas, I saw lots of water. Crops underwater. Sections of (or entire) fields that will have to be replaced. Of course time is a factor on the replanting aspect. And I’m sure the crops that are up would appreciate a string of hot growing days. The past week’s mild temperatures felt more like March than mid-June. While I loved it, I’m sure the rice is not too happy.
All is not lost, though. All is never lost. There is beautiful corn growing in Clay County. And it was good to see it.
That’s it for this week’s short Sunday Letter. I’ve not seen Momma all week, so she’ll have to add her wisdom in the comments.
Later, friends.
And happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Looks like a great tour around the state. Welcome back.
That closet of games flooded my memory: on the top shelf, the little bit of blue fluff was worn by a bridesmaid in your wedding; THE BIBLE GAME gave John his first migraine on his first trip to the Bat Cave; the CHRISTMAS GAME belonged to Dr. Eldon Fairley, who delivered both my girls. I could go on and on, but……
Now that’s a Jim dandy of road trip! Lol! Thanks for putting a smile on my face this Sunday morning. Momma’s words are worth writing down!
Talya, i doubt if you know this but the bass guitar player for Black Oak is my first cousin on my mothers side. His name is Pat Daugherty.
Ken Johnson