Saturday night when I arrived in Fayetteville, I became instantly annoyed. Our UVerse was on the brink—And.On.College.Football.Night!
In retrospect, this turned out to be a good thing, not because the Razorbacks lost in grand form but because of the UVerseless events to unfold…
I poured myself a glass of wine, calmed down, and remembered the reason we bought our cozy place—to escape Dallas, to escape constant news and noise, to rest and think and write.
At a scant 893 square feet it’s filled only with things we absolutely love such as vintage Fiestaware, second hand books, beds covered in heirloom quilts, and leather club chairs from Paris I feel certain Hemingway once sat in.
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| Hemingway sat here? |
In reality, with only 893 square feet there isn’t space for okay or average or it’ll do. And there really isn’t room for UVerse…
With no sound other than leaves turning, I settled in to read.
I read a Margaret Atwood poem.
I finished a book of short stories by Dot Hatfield.
I read an article about Northwest Arkansas museums. Located in Berryville, the Heritage Center Museum sounded interesting with collections of pioneer and artifacts from the early 1900s. With no real agenda, I decided to make a side stop in Berryville on my way to Eureka Springs the next day. Berryville was only a few miles off my regular route.
What to read next?
On the bookcase lay an old hardback book I found last year at Long Ago Antiques in Fayetteville, a place I am convinced is as magical as the Narnia wardrobe. The sturdy cover of the book was ridged like burlap and the center bore a faded drawing of the Arkansas state capitol building. It felt substantial and important yet was small enough to carry in my bag.
Inside, the first page was tagged Arkansas Collection then stamped ‘discarded’.
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| Arkansas in Retrospect by William Henry Ingersoll |
Clearly the book needed me.
Although I had never heard of Arkansas in Retrospect, nor the author, William Henry Ingersoll, his surname reminded me of a Donald Harington character. Ingersoll stuck with me as Harington’s characters often do.
The book (published in 1943) was one long poem about Arkansas.
The first four lines…
In Arkansas where I was born,Some fifty years ago or more,A thousand tales do now adornAnd grace the State her sons adore.
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Clearly I needed this book. It was speaking directly to me.
With heavy eyes, I fell asleep thinking when I get to Dairy Hollow, I’ll do some research on Mr. Ingersoll…tomorrow…
Tomorrow brought a truly AMAZING turn of events.
For the rest of the story, click HERE…
talya
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
