Nature & Seasons - grace grits and gardening

Let heaven and nature sing!

September 26, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Momma

The sky reflects a brilliant sea of white, the blanket of white mirrors the fleecy clouds above. An outline of bright blue sky illuminates the land. A globe of white, the heaven and earth indistinguishable, saturated with the aroma of cotton. White gold hanging on stalks ripe for picking.

My mother gives final instruction to her accommodating farmers.

In ten days, if the weather holds out and you observe carefully, you might glimpse a farmer smiling.

All year they toil for this moment.

Christmas in Autumn. Let heaven and nature sing….

talya

Musical Pairing:

Joy to the World, Three Dog Night

The BAT picking her own cotton.

same moon

August 30, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Last night, sleep was difficult. The wild sounds of nature filled our little cottage. Not sure what exactly – tree frogs, crickets, birds, owls, werewolves…. With only a flimsy screen door separating me from unseen critters, I pretended to be camping, in style…

I imagine the sounds to be those of the late night zoo. Or the deep jungle plus exuberant schnauzers minus howler monkeys.

No air conditioner noise, no traffic, no sirens or airplanes, no sounds of Dallas. Only nature. The twinkle of stars. The rustle of leaves turning.

Lucy and Annabelle were wide-eyed and excited. In and out, in and out. Up and down off the bed.

The moon, almost full, cast shadows to go with the sounds. A grain moon or sturgeon moon according to Farmer’s Almanac. Stirring the dirt and crops, rousing the nocturnal creatures a bit more? The trees were luminous.

I thought of family and friends. Each resting under a different roof. Across the country or across town, but under the same sky. Same moon.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Somewhere Out There, Linda Ronstadt & James Ingram

It suddenly struck me, that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn’t feel like a giant. I felt very, very small. – Neil Armstrong

Ol’ Man

August 27, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Where I come from, ‘the river‘ means only one thing – The Mighty Mississippi. Only a few miles away from my home, he is the life source for the entire delta region, the reason our little towns even exist. These towns that are so important to us. Old Man River connects us to the gulf, to the rest of the world. Our grand highway to export soybeans and rice and corn. Our livelihood.

Our soul.

America’s mightiest river.

Have you seen how low the river is lately?

NO ONE asks, which river?

When mentioned in passing, no one confuses him with the White River or the St. Francis River or the Buffalo River, although all amazing waterways.

Like Elvis, no one asks which Elvis?
Which Madonna?
Which Cher?
Which Jesus?

For those of us born on his riverbanks, his water courses through our veins. A source of inspiration and energy, a vigilant Father. Part of us.

As kids we often drove behind the levees to make sure the river was still there, like visiting an old relative. Often taken for granted, yet always needed. Driving into Memphis, we held our breath on the bridge spanning the river. A game we played in route to the Zoo or Goldsmith’s or the Mid-South Fair. It was a l-o-n-g way over. My lungs were never strong enough.

We weren’t allowed to swim in the river. But I waded in to my knees once. In high school. The only time in my life I was afraid of water, the undertow wicked.

He commands respect, capable of bestowing great wealth or catastrophic misfortune. Doing as he pleases, meandering where he will, like a stubborn cotton farmer. Misunderstood, quiet, strong. Sometimes appearing calm but always churning, roiling underneath the surface. Muddy and brown then golden and light, flowing. Seeking the ocean. Controlled by no one.

Providing for all of us.

Generations have witnessed his greatness, forever looking the same but never the same water. And the amazing things he has witnessed… abundant undisturbed wilderness, slavery and bloodshed, milk and honey, gambling and thieving, pirates and voodoo, jazz and blues, sacrifice and dreams.

He mus’ know sumpin’, but don’t say nuthin’, he jes’ keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin’ along…

2011 The River from Memphis Bridge

Last year the river water levels were at an all time high, threatening crops and animals, people and history. Today a record low, tired from drought and dry with sediment.

Still mighty and majestic. Our soul.