grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Packing for ICELAND!

By

I'm going to Iceland!
Did I mention I’m going to Iceland? Pinch me, I am! And I should be packing for Iceland because my trip is SOON. But somehow I’ve become this person who puts off packing until the last possible minute. I wait and wait and instead of just doing it, I spend effort calculating how much time I can delay said packing with the same precision my son once calculated the minimum grade he could score on a calculus test yet still get a B in said class.

Yeah.

And now instead of packing, I’m writing about packing.

My suitcase.

My suitcase is in the bedroom. That’s something. Like when the airplane reaches the gate but no one is allowed to board yet. Everyone stands and fidgets and stares at the plane through the terminal window wondering when it last had an oil change, relieved it at least arrived on time. When the announcement comes, passengers towing overfilled suitcases slip past harried gate attendants and hoist these whale-like bodybags into cramped overhead space. I attempt to spot who among them might go postal at thirty thousand feet. Because that seems to be a new thing.Continue Reading

Blowin’ in the wuthering wind

By

Airmail snapdragons

Yesterday was breezy. But today? The wuthering wind is blowing and roaring almost as though it twists from the ground up, a reminder of how sturdy trees really are. And the flowers pictured in this post? They are the wind’s answer to spring.

I call them my airmail flowers. Airmail because these flowers were planted old school. As nature intended. Seeds were scattered by the wind, probably on a day declared TOO WINDY by moi on Facebook. Probably followed by a rainstorm that woke me during the night. Probably followed by a soggy day when Lucy and Annabelle refused to go outside.

Probably.

Mother Nature does a good job when left to her own devices.

Definitely.

Continue Reading

To all the mothers who make the world go ’round…

By

Mother's Day roses

Dear all you mothers who make the world go ’round,

Yesterday as I cut roses from my garden, I was reminded of Mother’s Days past. How we, my little sister and I, wore a tiny red or pink rosebud to church that day. Momma wore red too, but because she was an adult in charge of things like money, she bought hers at the flower shop in town. Her corsage, a full grown rose, came in a clear plastic box with a long straight pin attached to the back for fastening to her dress. Nana wore a corsage of white gardenia, her favorite, each petal as soft as velvet, its perfume so strong and sweet that forty-five(!) years later, yesterday, when I walked past a gardenia bush at Westwood Gardens, the aroma pulled me over and vaulted me back to Brinkley Chapel. Just like that.

Gardenia from Westwood Gardens

Nana wore a white flower because her Momma, my great-grandmother, died years before I was born. And even though I never met her, I’ve known her my whole life.Continue Reading

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!