Writing - grace grits and gardening

All that splendid Spam!

April 1, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

Whenever I think my blog benefits no one and is a gigantic energy drain, I pause to read my spam comments. Enthusiastic robot spammers never fail to lift my spirits with such an unapologetic use of adjectives. And all those explanation points!!! Unabashed, gushing love. Sometimes a girl needs to be reminded how incredible(!) and magnificent(!) and astonishing(!) her blog really is. At least that’s what Calvin Klein tells me…

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Have an astonishing(!) April Fool’s Day!

Grace Grits and Gardening

Musical Pairing:

Monty Pyton – Spam

“The internet is 95 percent porn and spam”
― Margaret Atwood

I may never get my book published, but I can grow the perfect onion.

March 25, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

Underneath an endless sky, I have no concept of time. I gather kale and purple lettuce and baby spinach and the first onions from my garden. Perfect onions, like the ones momma grew on our farm when I was a kid.

Such a bountiful first harvest surprises me, especially the onions—fat, white bulbs topped with hearty greens and a tangle of roots filled with soil. Soil I worked with my hands. The same hands that string words together day after day. All day. Except when they are busy in the garden.

Even my husband is impressed. That onion came from our garden?

Everything came from our garden. Well, except the tomatoes. No tomatoes yet.

He stares, amazed.

And then while eating freshly harvested salad, I tell him about the email I received only an hour before. It was a good rejection letter, if there can be such a thing. She said I had a “light, delightful style” and her “decision was troublesome”… like maybe she almost said yes to publishing my book…

I ramble. Frustrated. Disheartened.

My husband listens. Condoles. She doesn’t realize what she’s missing…

I laugh yet don’t feel like laughing. I know I can sell my book. I told her that.

You did?

I nod.

I can’t believe this came from our garden, he says.

Well, I may never publish my book, but I can grow a perfect onion. And that’s worth something.

You should tell her that too.

Grace Grits and Gardening

“Life is an onion – you peel it year by year and sometimes cry.”
― Carl Sandburg

Aunt Rena’s Store

March 24, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

Beyond the cotton field and over the steep ditch, we could see Aunt Rena’s store from my cousin Lesa’s front yard. On summer afternoons, we walked over for a visit. Aunt Lavern (Lesa’s momma) watched us from their carport to make sure we didn’t get run over on the highway by the big trucks hauling grain. We never did.

Even though Aunt Rena was always busy piddling around the store, she seemed happy to see us and greeted us with big hugs and glasses of sweet tea served in Mason jars. Since her store was dimly lit and crammed packed with stuff, it was our favorite place to play hide-and-go-seek. The creaky wooden floors and musty air that sometimes made us sneeze, added an extra challenge to our game.

I liked to hide behind the large cardboard boxes shoved underneath the dry good shelves.

One day I peeked inside and discovered the boxes were filled with scraps of fabric—different colors and patterns—all folded and stacked in little squares.

Six whole boxes!

“Aunt Rena, what are you planning to do with all this fabric?” I held up a stack of cotton pieces.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said.

I thought she might use the cloth for quilts and blankets. Or maybe she was just a collector of things that were too good to throw away. I never really knew for sure. I never saw any customers in the store either.

Grace Grits and Gardening