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Hello Autumn!

October 15, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Autumn is the time we begin to wind down the year, rebalancing our bodies and minds as the days begin to shorten and cool. We breathe a sigh of relief at having survived another hot southern summer.
Into storage go those summer decorations, the bowl of seashells collected during annual treks to Destin, the sunflower door wreath. Into the back of the closet go the white linen pants and summer sundresses. Bring on cowboy boots and sweater weather!

Thoughts turn to family and football, chili and pumpkin spice lattes. Fall is a time for thanksgiving.
Surprise lilies bloom where none stood the night before. The air is filled with defoliant and the smell of cotton.
 
I wait for the Great Pumpkin.
The roadsides and ditch banks around our farm are tangled with tiny wild flowers and colorful foliage perfect for gathering into fall decorations. What better way to honor nature’s blessings than with vegetation growing wild near the fields? These fields which provide for us all spring…every spring, year after year.
 

ditchbank decor

ditchbank decor

Our rice field is peaceful now, resting, and nearly bare after harvest. The remaining dry stalks, interesting only to dove and duck, are in sharp contrast to the brilliant colors along the turn row and ditches. Cockleburs hang in clumps on scarlet stems. Peeking through the weeds, purple morning glories creep along the dark soil like ground cover. Silvery Johnson grass waves in the breeze. Growing wild, pink spiky flowers are unfamiliar to me, similar to salvia.
decorating with Autumn's offerings

decorating with Autumn’s offerings

 
You can easily transform your home at no cost with only a pair of scissors. A rusty bucket or tarnished silver bowl provides the ideal container. Any found object will do.
 
As poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox observed, a weed is but an unloved flower.
The beauty is all around.
decorate with cotton and wildflowers

decorate with cotton and wildflowers

 
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
 
This post is Day 1 of the BLOGtober Fest at Arkansas Women Bloggers…

 


The Unloved

September 13, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

I am cultivating the largest Johnsongrass I’ve ever seen. It sprouted up in our Fayetteville flower bed between visits and is so impressive I feel compelled to watch it grow. It wants to live.
It’s my personal 4-H project. I wonder if I could enter it in the State Fair of Arkansas? 
Daddy would be mortified. Thomas Tate had some of the cleanest fields in Mississippi County. Driving anywhere with him meant factoring in lots of extra time. Like all great farmers, he drove slow enough to watch cotton bolls open from the highway. And he stopped unannounced to chop the errant Johnsongrass growing mid-field.  On our way to anywhere, like playing a game of I Spy, we scanned the fields looking for offensive weeds standing taller than the crops, a slightly different shade of green, showing off, teasing Daddy, testing him. He stopped the truck, grabbed his trusty hoe from the back, walked to the annoying thing and whacked it down.  No matter how muddy the field. No matter where we were going. To a basketball game or wedding or funeral… 
We patiently sat inside the musty truck watching and waiting. We had no Iphone entertainment. No Angry Birds to pass the time. Just conversation and maybe a Barbie in tow.
Growing up that way, I am naturally drawn to weeding pulling and flower deadheading. Even at a friend’s house or restaurant, I can barely restrain myself. I’m surprised that I drove back to Dallas and left that mammoth Johnsongrass free to grow in Fayetteville. A weed is but an unloved flower.

talya

Musical Pairings:

Song Sung Blue – Neil Diamond

A weed is but an unloved flower. – Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Like the First Morning

August 15, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Finally. A soaking rain in Dallas. Complete with an impressive lightning display cracking and splitting the black sky into puzzle pieces, illuminating my late night bedroom. Lucy and Annabelle, having forgotten the sensation, burrowed deeply underneath the bedsheet, touching my toes. Sleeping weather.

This morning, an extra long walk, the temperature unexpectedly pleasant after the rain. Water puddled on the sidewalks and streets. Honest to goodness puddles capable of respectable splashes. Forty years ago I would have sloshed right through each water hole wearing bright yellow rain boots. 
The birds appreciated the rare rain. Joyful, chirping and chattering, sounding more like early spring than tired summer. Like the first morning, like the first bird.

The trees, relieved, stood a bit taller. For a brief moment, the entire city was relieved, fresh from the world.

An unseen squirrel scampering on an overhead branch doused us with rainwater from drippy leaves. On purpose I think. Forty years ago I would have shaken the branches myself, running underneath the shower like a backyard sprinkler. In my bright yellow rain boots.

The rain enhanced the morning smells, intensifying the dirt and grass and pollen. Underneath a neighbor’s cedar tree, the aroma was intoxicating, the peppery smell itching my nose, making me sneeze. Lucy and Annabelle rooted around like armadillos.
Nearly back home, I slipped off my tennis shoes and walked barefoot, my feet sinking into the sweetness of the spongy grass. Like the first day.
 
talya

Musical Pairings:

Morning Has Broken – Cat Stevens
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Hi! I'm Talya Tate Boerner. Writer, Reader, Arkansas Master Naturalist / Master Gardener, Author of

THE ACCIDENTAL SALVATION OF GRACIE LEE (2016)

GENE, EVERYWHERE: a life-changing visit from my father-in-law (2020)

BERNICE RUNS AWAY (2022)

THE THIRD ACT OF THEO GRUENE (coming 2025)

Recent Ramblings:

  • Sunday Letter: February 22, 2026
  • Our Garden Mission Statement
  • Goodbye, 2025. Hello, 2026.
  • Sunday Letter: 11.23.25
  • Maggie and Miss Ladybug: My New Children’s Nature Book

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