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I Love a Rainy Night

October 30, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner



This week I am attending a one-week writer’s residency program at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs. During this time I will re-post some of my favorite blogs from the prior year. Maybe you missed one? 


originally published 01/24/12…





A trip back home to Northeast Arkansas would be incomplete without at least one long night of thunderstorms, complete with hail, straight-line winds and the resulting power outage.  Last night was that night for my mom and me.  As huge storms brewed in the nation’s mid-section, they roared toward the Mississippi River and our house.


We were relaxing in the den watching Dateline when we were first notified of impending bad weather.  A severe thunderstorm and tornado warning flashed along the bottom of the television screen.  
These storms came up with very little warning. Living on a farm off a dark country road, we were somewhat out of touch with the world. The weather reporters became more and more animated and their maps became more and more colorful. Twirling arrows indicated possible tornadoes and tiny ping pong balls mimicked hail. They predicted an 8 in 10 chance of a tornado in our area. I was skeptical of this statistic.

We ignored the warnings. We were much more concerned with whether or not the newlywed had drowned his young cute wife, but as Dateline was interrupted yet again we realized we may never know.  I thought he was guilty. And I bet the people watching The Bachelor were plenty upset with the interruptions…  

Another alert was issued with this specific instruction that spoke volumes….  “Abandon mobile homes, hide in a ditch and wear durable shoes”.  Seriously. Exact Quote. LifeInTheCountry. I looked at my bare feet as I lay on the couch under a quilt. I glanced over at my mother.  She was wearing purple fuzzy Ugg slippers. Maybe I didn’t give this weatherman with the bad comb-over the credit he deserved?  He actually knew his audience pretty well. Perhaps we should heed his warning? As the wind began to howl and whistle through the fireplace, and the interior door in the den began to shake, I saw visions of those freaky munchkins and flying monkeys.

Ok, I’m going to get my durable shoes!

We escaped into a tiny, interior, window-less bedroom. It was cave-like. At night you cannot see your hand in front of your face. My mother converted it into a kids’ room when the grandchildren were born. It became a place to store old dolls that now had that semi-creepy appearance, old plastic jack-o-lanterns and other toys forgotten by time. In fact, it was quite possibly scarier than a tornado. 

There were at least 30 stuffed animals staring at me, and it was no wonder. I was wearing a black t-shirt from my favorite pizza restaurant, gym shorts and my durable shoes. I had quickly snagged a sweater from my bedroom, along with my bright blue bra. Seriously, if I awake in our rice field in the morning, I will not be braless. It is common knowledge that reporters seek out the most pitiful and scary people to interview after a disaster – I would not be this person tomorrow morning! I also grabbed my well gnawed night guard. I simply cannot sleep without my night guard – it protects my teeth as I clinch and grind. If the house is blown away, and we are relocated to a temporary shelter at the high school gym, I will need my sleep. Plus, this small piece of hard plastic is incredibly expensive!   In the event of a disaster, I will need that money for other things. Like Wine. My mother brought her cat, into the room. Gabby knew the routine well, as she had been born in tornado alley.  She just stared at us, probably freaked out by the stuffed animals everywhere. Or by me.


After about 30 minutes, we ventured out of our “safe room” to complete silence.  Either the storm had passed or the eye was directly overhead. Do tornadoes have eyes?  Exhausted, I slept well (with the help of my night guard). When we awoke in the morning, there were several large limbs scattered throughout the front yard from the pecan trees. Water stood in the field across the road. The sky was clear and blue. We had survived another storm. I was so relieved that we had not been relocated north of the Mason-Dixon Line during the night. I’m pretty sure that’s where the flying monkeys reside.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Katherine McPhee

Fall is…

October 17, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

This post is Day 3 of the BLOGtober Fest challenge with Arkansas Women Bloggers. Theme is Fall Traditions…

Easy peasy…

In our family, we have several fall traditions, but my favorites are …

  • That first eye-rolling-back-in-my-head bite of corn dog from the state fair, hot from the grease and dripping with mustard. A trip to the state fair is always on the agenda. 
  • That first weekend of college football which pairs perfectly with the season’s first bowl of chili. (My husband makes amazing chili…) A house divided, we claim many teams cheering for Arkansas and Arkansas State (always), other SECteams when it benefits Arkansas, and Texas when they play Oklahoma. We almost support LSU when they play Florida. Florida, never. Although it rarely happens since the fall of the Southwest Conference, if Baylor should play Arkansas, I cheer for whichever team has the ball. Yes, I graduated from Baylor and LOVE the Hogs…  Conflicted.
    My handsome Razorback
  • Cotton Harvest! The holiest of times. The fields are transformed into a sea of white, thick enough to walk on. My favorite smell, the smell of cotton. 
can you smell it?

talya
Musical Pairings:

Arkansas Fight Song

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…

 


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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: 03.29.26
  • Sunday Letter: February 22, 2026
  • Our Garden Mission Statement
  • Goodbye, 2025. Hello, 2026.
  • Sunday Letter: 11.23.25

Novels:

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