grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Adios Texas.

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In 1981, I packed up my sparse belongings and headed to Texas with no real vision of life beyond high school. I only knew I was ready to leave. Ready to get on with college. You know the saying, the world was my oyster.

Yesterday as I crossed the Red River into Oklahoma, I said, “Adios,” to Texas.  Although I’ll return occasionally, things will be different. I will be a visitor.

For weeks and weeks, we’ve been purging and packing and decluttering. Moving is hard work. Multiple trips to Goodwill. A yard sale. Monday things got real as we said goodbye to our Dallas home on Worth Street.

Adios Texas

Walking through for the last time, her rooms sat empty yet overflowed with memories.

I thought back on our first night in the house when the kids were young and the house was new to us. Her creaky floors and old beams felt strange yet comforting, welcoming. We had no way to know what Worth Street would hold for us.

All those Thanksgiving leftovers enjoyed. Slumber parties when the entire house was overrun with wide-eyed, giggling girls. How many books were read underneath this roof? Movies watched, decisions made, walls painted and re-painted, spelling words studied, plants planted, loads and loads and loads of laundry washed and folded, homecoming and prom pictures taken from the front porch swing, tears cried and wiped away, debates argued, suppers eaten, prayers prayed?

prom pics on the porch

Tate (red vest) with his friends. Prom 2010.

 

We built a rich life together on Worth Street. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was real.

It was ours.

There are things I will dearly miss.

The slant of the early morning sun through the upstairs porch.

The summer dragonflies and how they flit and dip into the pool water.

Our secret garden beyond the iron gate.

Her stately columns.

adios texas

The history of the area and being part of something bigger.

Our friends.

Since the moment we decided to leave Texas, I’ve been writing this blog post in my head, trying to imagine different neighbors, a different way of life. There is no neighborhood like Munger Place, and we consider ourselves fortunate to have lived there.

A piece of my heart will always be in Texas, but I hope you’ll follow my adventures in Arkansas.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Already Gone, Sugarland

Adventures in Moving #2

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Oh my goodness. Last weekend was crazy. It all started with a realtor who brought clients to see our house not during her scheduled appointment time. (Background: house showings are scheduled in one hour increments through a centralized showing company. This allows us time to prepare, leave the house with the dogs during that one hour, and come home hopefully to a contract? Yeah, not yet.)

Saturday, this particular showing went down like this: we received an appointment notice, cleaned like crazed people, vacuumed, turned on all the lights so the house looked its best, removed the third floor barricade (dogs aren’t allowed up there since I shampooed the carpet), left the house at our appointed time and walked the dogs in 100 degree temperatures finally crashing at neighbor Harry’s house. Thank you, Harry!

5119 Worth Street pool with fountains

pool with fountains on

At the end of our scheduled hour, we went home, turned off the lights, barricaded the third floor, turned off the pool fountains, armed the house alarm and left for lunch. It was 2:00. Fish tacos were calling my name.

Thirty minutes later, the realtor showed up well past her appointment. She set off the alarm and the dogs who went nuts (rightfully so). The showing company called to let us know our alarm was going off. No joke. That’s how it works. We rushed home. The realtor and her clients seemed unfazed by the fiasco but of course the house was dark, the third floor was barricaded, the dogs were crazy, the whole thing ridiculous.

Not an ideal house touring scenario.

Oh well.

The next day at our open house, someone took my prescription medication right out of the zippered case inside my bathroom cabinet.

Yeah. Wild.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Talking Heads, Wild, Wild Life

 

Does a place have feelings?

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I wonder if a place has feelings.

Does she know we are leaving soon?

Someone new will walk her creaky floors,

sleep beneath her protective eaves.

Her wood moldings gleam.

Sunlight streams through her stained glass.

She is planted all around with flowers and shrubs,

years of devoted tending. Inside and out.

I hope she is excited.

A new family brings

renewed enthusiasm. Energy.

I wonder if a place has feelings.

Will she remember us when we are gone?

 

stained glass 5119 Worth Street

5119 Worth Street, beautiful stained glass

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.”
― Joan Didion

Musical Pairing:

Taking You With Me, Daniel Tashian & Mindy Smith

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!