grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Demented Dairy Hollow?

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For four nights in a row I have slept like the dead. My Dairy Hollow cabin is chilly, yet I nest comfortably underneath quilts and blankets snuggling with my feather pillow from home. Good sleeping weather.
Dairy Hollow, Eureka Springs, Ar
Above my rooftop, a canopy of trees, a forest dense and dark. The branches are woven and twisted together, growing as one. The stars twinkle beyond the treetops, but from my spot they are concealed. I am concealed.
The hunter’s moon glows, a giant orb in the autumn sky. By day, the mountainside boasts brilliant fall foliage. By night, the forest mutates into a haven for predators and a hiding place for prey.Especially on Halloween.

On Halloween night I went to bed early, exhausted from the day’s activities. Drifting off easily, I slept  until something stirred me, waking me with a cold chill. A noise outside my door. A scratching sound. Maybe a limb against my window?

Dairy Hollow, Eureka Springs, Ar

A glance to the bedside clock showed 11:57 p.m. Almost midnight.

Thinking it my imagination, I dismissed the noise, but sleep would not return. My nerve endings were on full alert. With blankets pulled to my nose, I watched without blinking, listened to hear what wasn’t there.

Another unfamiliar sound. It was not my imagination, I was certain.

My heart raced as my mind conjured images of ghouls prowling outside my cabin.

In the distance I heard the shriek of a bird, maybe an owl. Haunting. Eerie. And I sensed something, someone, footsteps? The rustle of leaves?

Outside my kitchen window, a slight change in the darkness, a shifting shadow. Was my mind playing tricks?
Weary and empty, I felt devoid of hope and happiness. Devoid of myself. Morning would never come.
I summoned the courage to tiptoe to the front door, my heart pounding in my throat. Through a corner of the blinds I saw darkness. Nothing. Coldness. A reflection of my own frightened face. Flipping on the outside light and shoving open the door, something moved away. Or floated away. Disappearing. Restoring my sanity.
And then I slept. A deep silent sleep. I dreamed of Dementors.

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.



Musical Pairing:

Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dementor Test

“Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear.” 
― Edgar Allan Poe

It was a dark and stormy night…

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It was a dark and stormy night…

Ok not really. The night was clear and cold, but living on a farm, every night was dark. On Halloween, the glow of an orange harvest moon only added murky shadows to nightfall.
With no neighbors, no sidewalks, no streetlights, treats were few and far between. My sister and I worked extra hard to fill our plastic jack-o-lanterns, making each piece of candy seem a treasure.
One Halloween, Momma drove us from farmhouse to farmhouse down Highway 77 from Smith’s Store almost to Manila. Nana went with us that year which made the outing even more fun. At 55 years old, this was Nana’s first time ever to trick or treat. Excited to play dress-up, her costume was brilliant yet simple as the best often are. An old stocking pulled tightly over her head to below her chin distorted all facial features, smashing her long humped nose and stretching her lips. With a black coat to complete the look, she became the witch from Snow White.

With our pumpkins almost full, we saved the best for last. The Cockram house was my favorite, built of native stone with a long gravel driveway that twisted through the heavily treed front yard.

There was good candy inside that house, you could just tell.
Turning the car lights off, Momma drove slowly up the drive, stopping a few yards away from the house, leaving us to walk to the front door with Nana.
Trick or Treat!
Do you have candy for my starving kids? Nana pleaded in a scary voice, adding an evil cackle and holding out a shaky hand.
Although family friends, it was evident they had no idea who we were. They peeped at our car, but the night was black, and without headlights the color of the car was not obvious. The drapes around the dining room window moved aside as someone inside watched us.
Do we know you?They asked.
No, we are just a family who needs lots of caaaandyyyyy. Nana screeched, nearly scaring me.
Back in our car, we giggled quite proud that we remained nameless. In the back seat, I felt inside my plastic pumpkin trying to determine the latest additions based on the size and shape of each small candy. Unwrapping a Bit o’ Honey, I popped it into my mouth, dropping the wrapper back into the jack-o-lantern. Nana joked about how we got them good!
Momma agreed, laughing as she backed down the drive toward the highway, still without the headlights. We were stealthy, covert, the car remaining invisible. The Cockrams continued to watch from the picture window, completely stumped.
Halloween was so fun!
A loud crack! A jolt that hammered us (seatbelt-less) into the front seat. My pumpkin spewed candy into the floor as I nearly choked on my Bit o’ Honey.
Quite the opposite of sneaky, Momma had rammed the car into a tree, breaking the taillight, splintering the tree trunk and bringing an abrupt end to our spirited shenanigans. The Cockrams spilled out onto the drive, actually excited their tree brought our identities into the light of this Halloween night.
Finally home, we had to explain this little trick to Daddy.
Boo!
My sister and me. I was seriously rocking the eyebrows…
 talya

Musical Pairing:


This post is Day 2 of BLOGtober Fest for Arkansas Women Bloggers. Theme Halloween Memories…


Queen for a Day

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Queen for a DayThere is nothing like a fake bejeweled crown to bring out the claws and money clips. The Halloween Carnival in Keiser, Arkansas was THE fall event of the school year. The anticipated crowning of the Halloween King and Queen rooted the dirty farmers out of the fields during cotton harvest, the most holiest of seasons. Devious PTA wannabe queen-mothers administered full blown campaigns for their prospective royal children.Mississippi County drama at its finest.
Each class had nominees selected by classmates, but only one couple could win. I know this may be  rather shocking in today’s every-single-kid-gets-a-trophy-no-kid-gets-left-behind world. But that’s how things worked back then. The winner was selected based on funds raised for the PTA. Pure greed. Cut throat, not popular vote.One winner, a bunch of losers and no pizza party afterward. Greatness.
In second grade, Craig Barnett and I were nominated as Halloween King and Queen. Our families were friends, our dads farmed side by side, often even vacationing together. So I knew Craig pretty well and was fairly certain he had cooties. He likely felt the same about me.

To raise money for our class, we sold chocolate chip cookies and caramel apples after school and peddled homemade cupcakes to the folks who attended the live auction near our home at Cottonwood Corner. This became our full time job for weeks and weeks. Halloween child slavery.

Keiser School

One of our biggest fundraisers was a rummage sale in downtown Keiser, hosted by our crazed mothers. Ms. Barnett, the quintessential schemer, could always pull a rabbit from her hat. Or from Clide’s hat (Craig’s dad). She lured in hordes of shoppers by hanging her mink stole and Clide’s expensive mohair jacket front and center. These luxury items were well overpriced so no one would actually buy them, but displayed perfectly to attract the nosy townsfolk. This was the talk of our little town, and Clide Barnett was none too happy. Especially since he was seen wearing the camel coat at the country club the weekend before.
 Queen and King of Halloween
My second grade class raised an impressive amount of money by 1969 standards. Craig and I were crowned Halloween King and Queen of Keiser Elementary School. Draped with a velvet robe and an armful of flowers, I still remember how those giant white mums smelled. The crown, constructed of white cardboard, silver glitter and Elmer’s glue, was the envy of all.I now realize after the money was tallied, the final selection was made based on whose parents and grandparents threw the most extra money in the PTA pot at the last minute. We both came from families of natural born gamblers, so we were auctioned off like prized cattle. A farmer frenzy.Forty + years later, Craig and I are still bonded by that coronation.

talya

Musical Pairings:
Queen – Tie Your Mother Down


 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!