Hello, Sunday Letter readers!
In case you were wondering—no, I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. I’m still here, and I’m glad you are too. Lately, I’ve been busy in the garden and doing a little traveling. In between all that, I read and write. That’s pretty much my life these days, and honestly, I’m not complaining in the least.
Yes, I’m still plugging away on my next book. I hope to have a completed first draft by June 30. I’m a slow writer, partly because of all the aforementioned ways I like to spend my time, and partly because I tend to let a story unfold in its own sweet time. Have no fear—I’ll keep you updated on my progress along the way.
Central Library, Little Rock
On Friday, I taught a Phenology and Backyard Journaling session at the Arkansas Library Association’s InfoBits Conference. It was held at the fabulous Central Library in Little Rock—truly a wonderful place to spend a beautiful spring day.
A library is so much more than books. In fact, I challenge you to visit libraries wherever you travel and pay attention to their non-book offerings: the art and history displays, community bulletin boards, yoga classes, curated exhibits, quiet corners, and local treasures. Every library is a gem in its own way.
A few things that especially grabbed my attention were the display of David Paul Cook’s nature and landscape art, the original library columns, the stunning views from nearly every window, and a series of old photographs from The Butler Center for Arkansas Studies.
Old photographs fascinate me—especially photos of places tied to my own memories.
One image showed that the Osceola Furniture Store once sold coffins and caskets. Naturally, this sent me tumbling down a Google rabbit hole to learn the difference. It turns out caskets are rectangular, while coffins are six-sided (or sometimes eight-sided), wider at the shoulders and tapered at the head and feet—historically known as a “toe pincher.” Caskets are primarily used in the United States, while coffins remain more common in the United Kingdom.
Who knew? Certainly not me.
Our New Old Chairs!
Speaking of old things, I’m excited to tell you about our new old chairs.
This project has been a long time coming. About ten years ago, we purchased these wonderfully comfortable antique club chairs from French Metro Antiques here in Fayetteville. Nearly everything at French Metro has been imported from Paris, and our chairs date back to roughly the 1920s.
I like to imagine Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein sitting in them, smoking cigarettes and listening to jazz.
John and I always intended to have them recovered, but for years we struggled to find anyone willing to tackle the project. Time passed, as it tends to do, and the chairs slowly drifted to the bottom of the priority list. Finally, this year, we found a local upholstery company—Holmberg Upholstery—happy to take them on.
Rather than replace the worn brown leather with more leather, we chose a beautiful dark green chevron fabric instead.
Before:
I’m fairly certain guests wondered why we even kept them in the house. Horsehair and coconut-fiber stuffing poked out everywhere.
During:
While dismantling the chairs, the upholsterers discovered scraps of brightly colored fabric stuffed inside the cushions—probably added long ago for extra firmness. Even more surprising, they also found several well-preserved acorns tucked deep inside.
I’d like to think this wasn’t the work of one of our modern squirrels, but honestly, who knows?
Acorns were once considered emergency food during times of famine and scarcity, so perhaps someone tucked them away for safekeeping and simply forgot about them.
We may never know how those acorns ended up hidden inside the cushions, but I love that these old chairs carried their own small secrets through time.
The upholsterer also discovered French hairpins and the wrapper from a well-known French embroidery thread.
After:
Now they’re ready for the next hundred years.
If I Were a…
If I were a finch, I’d build my nest in the honeysuckle.
If I were a box turtle, I’d hide beneath the maple tree among the wild violets.
If I were a tree frog, I’d perch on the windowsill.
If I were a possum, I’d forage in the garden and live beneath the front porch.
If I were a skink, I’d make my home in the rock wall.
If I were a squirrel, I’d nap on the gatepost.
Or maybe I’d curl up in the viburnum and spy on my humans from above.
But since I’m just a humble human, I’ll simply be grateful to share this garden space with all of them—and say hello whenever we cross paths.
Just please… keep your acorns outside.
“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.” — Gary Snyder
(P.S. I saw all these critters within a two week period.)
Speaking of Nature
I highly recommend the latest Ken Burns documentary, Henry David Thoreau, now airing on PBS. It’s informative, beautiful, and deeply inspirational—and George Clooney provides the narration.
And this is an actual photograph of Walden Pond. I believe I could write a few words there.
“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” ― Walden or, Life in the Woods
Things Momma Says:
The one thing I can still do is hear pretty good.
***
That’s all for today, folks. I hope you found my ramblings illuminating—or at the very least, worth the few minutes it took to read them.
Talya Boerner
Grace Grits & Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Beautiful chairs! Did they leave the fabric in the chair? If not, I hope they gave the scraps to you.
I remember those library columns from back in the early 70s. What a wonderful way to incorporate them in the current library.
We share our outdoor space with three pesky squirrels—two from the east and one from the west. They’d devour all the sunflower seeds if we didn’t send them home. We think two bunnies were doing a courtship dance in the lower part of our yard last week. They’d hop high in the air, and turn to face the opposite direction mid hop. Love was in the air. A phoebe is nesting on the front porch, but we didn’t have the heart to tear it down. Messy tenant. Last time we let her get a foothold. Lizards dart along the brick, and most days a chipmunk vacuums the scattered birdseed. So far, no possums.