Nature & Seasons - grace grits and gardening

the Colors of Easter

April 3, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner

iris

I recently told my friend Laurie that my dream job would have been working for Crayola, specifically naming the crayon colors. Since I was a kid, everything about crayons fascinated me from the fresh smell of the wax to the way something so simple could transform a plain piece of paper into a refrigerator-worthy work of art. A new box of Crayons with the colors lined up sharp and perfect, or an old coffee can filled with broken stubs and unraveled wrappers—I’ve always loved them all.

Since my Crayola dream job has long been taken (I checked their website) and the crayons have already been christened, I decided to match up crayon names with the soft colors of Easter. It’s something I automatically do while walking the dogs. Those daffodils popping up everywhere? They come in various Crayola shades including canary, unmellow yellow and sunglow.

During this Easter season, Fayetteville is bursting with blooms. Pastels as soft as spun sugar. Tufts of fresh green grass begging to hide a dyed egg. The color of someone buying me an ice cream cone for no reason at all (Lemony Snicket). Happy, happy colors.

Easter is such a gift. A gift I don’t deserve.

Outrageous Orange

Banana Mania

Spring Green

Goldenrod

Inch Worm

Cotton Candy

Carnation Pink mixed with Wild Strawberry

Razzle Dazzle Rose

Blue Violet

White

If you are a Crayon nut like me, here are a few fun facts from ColourLovers.com:

Crayola crayons currently come in 120 colors;
An average of 12 million crayons are made daily;
The average child in the U.S. will wear down 730 crayons by her/his 10th birthday;
The first box of Crayola crayons was sold in 1903 for a nickel and included the same colors available in the eight-count box today—red, blue, yellow, green, violet, orange, black and brown.

There’s nostalgic goodness in every box of Crayons. Sometimes that’s just what this world needs. Especially at Easter.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Discovery – Swing Tree

Gardening, Writing and Making Enchiladas.

March 31, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner

Gardening, writing and making enchiladas will keep a girl busy. My mother (aka The Bat) thought I had either croaked, lost my phone, or dropped it in the toilet because she had texted me several times over two days, and I hadn’t responded. I hadn’t posted on Facebook or blogged either.

First of all, I never received the texts because of a mysterious change in my iPhone settings. How does that happen? Anyway, after a bit of research, I fixed it without a call to AT&T (which would have severely cut into gardening, writing and making enchilada time, for sure). Yay me.

As far as being absent on social media, I’ve been on a self-imposed schedule that involves a) working on my book in the mornings, and b) gardening in the afternoons. And yes, I did make enchiladas the other day, but more on that later. So here’s an update. The book? I think it’s going well, but it’s taking longer than I expected. That’s mostly okay by me because when I’m done, well there’s the whole finding-a-publisher-thing which is way harder than breathing life into dead pansies.

And the gardening? You already know it’s one of my most favorite things to do in this life.

Here are a few of the plants John and I bought at Westwood Gardens, my go-to local (Fayetteville) garden center. A trunk full of plants leads to an afternoon well spent.

One of the things I did yesterday was attempt to spruce up our front porch pots. After the snow and ice, last fall’s pansies were soggy and shriveled and looking rather pathetic, BUT since the pansy growing season in Fayetteville is soooo much longer than Dallas, I decided to revive them instead of throw them away. I dug them up, trimmed the dead leaves, added more soil, and replanted them with snapdragons and asparagus fern. The pots look much happier now, and I believe the pansies will make a recovery.

Believing is an essential part of gardening.

End of Winter (left pot) / Beginning of Spring (right pot)

Here’s another before and after shot showing my pansies going from pitiful to perky.

Check out this cute little succulent. This one is named “Pig Ear”. Perfect for Razorback land, don’t you think? I put him in one of our most unique pots, a container we purchased at Redenta’s in Dallas. (It was handmade by an Arizona artisan whose name I don’t know, or I’ll tell you.)

My sister-in-law gave me lots of irises, day lilies and onion sets from her yard! “Dig up whatever you want,” she said. Now that’s a gardeners dream, right? Receiving plants from someone else makes the world even more special, and some of these plants originally came from my mother-in-law’s garden which makes me happyhappyhappyyyyy.

I planted a row of them along our rock wall. This is a hot spot, so they should flourish.

Others I planted around this boulder (along with phlox).

So where does making enchiladas come into this story? I made a big platter of chicken enchiladas last weekend using an old favorite recipe from my Baylor Cookbook (recipe tweaked a bit and coming later, maybe). We ate supper outside around the fire pit while enjoying the beginning of spring.

This is an Arkansas meal. Chicken enchiladas made with Tyson chicken + Riceland rice.

Thank goodness, gardening burns calories:)

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

[tweetthis]Trunk full of plants + belly full of enchiladas = perfect day. @Redentas @TysonFoods @RicelandFoods #WestwoodGardens[/tweetthis]

Musical Pairing:

Travis Tritt – It’s a Great Day to be Alive

what the dogs smell (let it rain)

March 11, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner

My walks with Lucy and Annabelle consist more of stopping and starting than walking. We play a sniffing game, especially after a rain or snowstorm. For just one day, I’d love to be able to smell what the dogs smell. To be that alert and aware, so alert they nearly pull my arm out of socket when a scent hits their noses and yanks me in a completely different direction.

What’s in the rain?

Does the water revitalize the scent of the soil, the tracks of the squirrel, the mark of another dog? Or is there more to it?

The same rain has fallen since the beginning of time.

Rain.

Evaporation.

Rain.

Evaporation.

And with the process, a world of smells travels from the ground, into the rivers and lakes and oceans and into the clouds overhead. The smells of yesterday. History. Animals, extinct and present. People, here and long gone. Every smell that ever existed has been soaked into those rain droplets and snowflakes.

That’s what I like to imagine anyway.

The history in the smell of rain is responsible for our less than smooth strolls. It’s not just dog pee.

I love the smell of rain—that distinct earthy aroma that’s difficult to describe yet immediately noticed. A smell that always grabs my attention and makes me pause and inhale long and deep. What do the dogs smell? The explosion of a Civil War musket? Tracks left behind by the Cherokee who settled in this area? The smell of a wolf pack, their ancestors?

Or is it merely the squirrel sitting on the branch above their heads?

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

[tweetthis]I’d like to smell what the dogs smell. #historyintherain[/tweetthis]

Musical Pairing:

Eric Clapton, Let It Rain

“Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away.”

― Helen Keller

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