Dear Sunday Letter friends,
After finally getting Bernice out into the world, I’ve tried to regroup and take care of a few things I’ve been putting off. Like getting Betty White (my car) serviced. Like finding a new dentist and doing a little volunteer work at the Headquarters House in Fayetteville (where I earn the bulk of my annual master gardener hours). Like working in my own garden that has been somewhat neglected as of late.
The weather is cool and invigorating right now, but gracious we can’t even buy a rain shower. Without a drop in over 30 days, I’m afraid our anticipated Ozark fall color will be brown and stunted instead of bright and brilliant.
Boo to that.
Small World Magic
Monday I had the pleasure of speaking at a district meeting of the Arkansas Federation of Garden Clubs. What a cool thing to meet knowledgeable and dedicated gardeners from across the northwest region of the state.
After speaking at various events during the past several years, I’ve noticed one consistent thing in particular… Something extra special always happens at these events—not because I get to talk about my books or writing or gardening (although that is fun for me!)—but because of paths crossed with the people I meet.
It’s magical really.
The specific thing from last week’s meeting?
A lady I’d never met from the Conway area came up to me near the end of the day to tell me she had worked for years with my cousin Cindy who passed away last year. I’ve been thinking about Cindy so much lately, wishing I could text her about one thing or another the way we always did. To meet someone who shared a common friendship with my cousin? It was such special and unexpected news that chill bumps broke out on my arms when she told me.
Sometimes the world feels incredibly small to me. Small and fragile and filled with perfect tiny moments. And I often wonder how many of these perfect tiny moments pass us by because we aren’t paying attention, because our minds are focused on something that doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in the scheme of things.
Meet Felix
At the garden club meeting, an entire wall of garden-related items were available for purchase.
Oh my heart. If you know anything about me, you know my favorite type of shopping involves a book store or garden center. And for only $2, this cutie patootie cactus went home with me.
I immediately named him Felix.
I believe Felix is a Thanksgiving cactus, but he might be a Christmas or Easter cactus. Since I’ve never owned a holiday cactus, I’m not certain of his variety.
Regardless, I don’t imagine he will bloom this year because he’s just a youngster.
What do you think? And do holiday cacti really bloom during the appointed holiday? All tips welcome!
Squirrel Shenanigans
Not that long ago, a healthy succulent grew here. But October has brought a squirrel frenzy, as they’ve moved from the yard onto our front porch. One rascal in particular has claimed this typewriter planter. I watched from my desk inside as he quickly dug out the succulent, ate bits of it, and hid his walnut in the soil.
The good thing about succulents? All those bits and pieces will continue growing when poked back into the soil. But obviously it’s time for me to move my porch houseplants to a safe place inside.
And, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it. Based on the squirrel activity I’m noticing, I expect we will have a cold, cold winter.
No, I’m not the Farmer’s Almanac, but I am a farmer’s daughter…
Things Momma Says:
Thank goodness that’s over.
(Re: the awful Razorback football game yesterday)
Thanks for reading yet another Sunday Letter. And to those who have helped me launch Bernice Runs Away into the world, THANK YOU! I appreciate all your enthusiastic feedback and support.
Sometimes the world feels serendipitous and filled with breathtaking moments. And aren’t we blessed when we we notice?
💖
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Ken Johnson says
Talya, is Headquaters House a gardening center or what? I am always looking for places I can buy plants, fruit trees, etc.text me back when you can.
Ken Johnson
Cuzin