grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Keep Going…

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GBE:2 Week 113 Photo Writing Prompt… Wrong Way, Go Back
The voice living inside my head bores into my thoughts saying wrong way, go back. 
She whispers wrong path, bo-rrrr-ing, no one is interested in following your tales. 

Go
back
to
something
safer.
As I free-write in my journal, I’ve learned to silence her muttering with my pen. 
Beyond pot holes and washed out gravel at the far end of the most overgrown road live the most compelling ideas and inspiration.
The only wrong way is sitting still and doing nothing.
talya
“When you don’t know where to start, just go to a place you miss so much.” 
― Toba Beta

writing at sunrise

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As sunrise creeps over the lake, the water is liquid glass, purple and still without boaters or jet skis to interrupt. Trees are filled with chirping and chittering and cooing. Sounds are lavish and layered from the grasshopper scratching at my porch screen to the caw-caw-cawing on the far side of the cove.

A family of cardinals lands on the picnic table. One pecks at the pebbles before they all fly away.

If I sat here all day, what would I see?

If I sat here all day, what would I miss?

From the porch of my rustic cabin, I write while drinking coffee, too much coffee, black and strong. There is no better place for making final edits to my first book than in the Ozarks with a view of my favorite lake during the most magical time of day, the time for hope and new beginnings. 
And, how lucky for all this to happen during my birthday week. Sometimes things just come together that way…

❤

talya
“It’s a new day. Yesterday’s failure is redeemed at the sunrise” 
― Todd Stocker

Familiar

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For no good reason, I held my breath as I passed the sign welcoming me to Wind Gap, the way kids do when they drive by cemeteries. The row of houses along Main Street still stood, yet well-tended hydrangea had been replaced with cheap toys and mismatched clay pots filled only with dirt. A man in coveralls ambled past the General Store and waved as his gaze followed my ordinary rental car. I automatically pulled to the grass and lingered. The stand of cottonwoods near the edge of the school yard now towered above the town. Windows once offering escape for my wandering mind were trapped behind sheets of plywood. The air smelled familiar.

This exercise was written for the 7x7x7x7 Writing Prompt…


  1. Grab the 7th book from your bookshelf.
  2. Open it up to page 7.
  3. Pinpoint the 7th sentence on the page.
  4. Begin a poem/a piece of prose that begins with that sentence
  5. Limit it in length to 7 lines/7 sentences.
Note:  The first sentence in italics was taken from Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn. 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!