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| Judy, Talya, Norma, Becky, Anita |
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| 1970s |
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| 1980s |
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| 1990s |
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| 2012 50 years later |
ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
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| Judy, Talya, Norma, Becky, Anita |
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| 1970s |
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| 1980s |
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| 1990s |
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| 2012 50 years later |
When our neighborhood was platted and the homes constructed, property taxes were assessed per room. And a closet was considered a room. To avoid the closet tax, most Munger Place homes were built without closets. This didn’t much matter back then when people only had a change of work clothes and a Sunday-go-to-meetin’ outfit. Later, closets were added in corners and odd spots as needs changed. Now that everyone has way too much stuff and new outfits arrive daily on the porch steps via one simple mouse click for next day UPS delivery, those closets are stuffed with barely worn clothes and shoes and prom dresses and halloween costumes and business suits that haven’t seen daylight or a boardroom since business casual became the new professional norm.
In our house, Kelsey’s room has the coolest closet. It’s big and spacious and comes with it’s own stained glass window. I do some of my best shopping in that closet. Full of treasures, it’s convenient and the price is always right. Some items were left behind when she moved to Austin for college and some were left behind when she moved to Washington DC for work. On a rare trip home, usually around the holidays, she may leave clothes and take others. So the inventory sometimes changes.
Kelsey is happy and thriving, busy working and preparing for law school. As she should be. Her baccalaureate poster sits on the closet floor, and sometimes I like to go in the closet to look at the photos on it, just remembering. The closet still smells like her perfume.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Musical Pairings:
“This One’s for the Girls”, Martina McBride
“I Hope You Dance”, Lee Ann Womack
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At Brinkley Chapel we all wore roses pinned to our dresses on Mother’s Day Sunday – white if our mother had already passed away and pink or red if our mother was still alive. I really don’t know if this is a tradition everywhere or just at our little church in Arkansas. We had lots of unique traditions there.
Momma ordered a corsage for Nana from the flower shop in Osceola. It was always a white Gardenia, her favorite, the most fragrant of all flowers. I could smell it from a pew away.
Momma wore a red or pink rose corsage with a bit of baby’s breath, but Staci and I were too little to wear big, fancy, store-bought corsages. We ran outside on Sunday morning, getting our shoes wet in the grass, and clipped a tiny pink rose from the bush beside the driveway. Luckily the rosebush was always in full bloom on Mother’s Day, as if it understood the importance of its job.
Momma always told us to pick one of the buds not fully open. If we wore one of the pretty big roses already in full bloom, the petals fell apart before the invitational hymn leaving only a pin and a thorny stem on your dress. No telling what the significance of that might have been.
Twenty-four years ago, Momma had to start wearing a white Gardenia corsage on Mother’s Day. I still get to wear pink:)
Happy Mother’s Day to all!