grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Hot Dogs and the Thrill of the Roast

By

Hot Dogs and the Thrill of the Roast

Oh, hot dogs! Today I’m honoring the hot dog roast, a simple slice of Americana that reminds me of lake days and baseball and a summer soon behind us. I know, I know, hot dogs are the opposite of healthy, and vegetarians probably gag at the thought of them. I only eat two or three (okay five or six) a year, so no doubt I have worse habits I could / should / do fret over from time to time. But this is me trying to keep things light over here in my Grace Grits and Gardening world.

Personally, I think we could all use a big ole hot dog roast.Continue Reading

Books I Read in September.

By

The books I read in September

Happy October, friends! The books I read in September represented a variety of genres, settings, and themes. I lapped them up for completely different reasons. Grab a cup of coffee and journey with me to the plains of Nebraska, down south to Louisiana, and across Texas when it was wilder than it is today (joke). We’ll delve into the mastermind behind of Nancy Drew, visit with the quirky Glass family, and meet a dying man in England. And, if you dare, we’ll step foot inside North Korea, a place as foreign as a galaxy far, far away.

Ready?Continue Reading

A Brand New Day.

By

a brand new day

Our house silently waits for a brand new day. In the earliest morning, there is no world beyond the opaque windows around me, beyond my cup of coffee, my pen and journal. I recently started a new journal, but I don’t much like it. Yes, the cover is pretty, it has a satin ribbon to hold my place, the pages are lined, the edges gold-tipped. But the paper itself, the weight of the journal, something is off. The feel of a journal is important to me. (But I won’t waste paper, so I’ll continue using it.)

Lucy and Annabelle nestle beside me. They recognize this brand new day, this earliest morning time, the time that comes after sleep but before the day truly begins. It’s my preferred time to write, a time when my mind is rested, still somewhat in a dreamy state, unaffected by negative, external and internal. I protect this time fervently, and for the most part, they let me. With each small breath, their curled bodies float up and down, up and down. This is the quietest they will be today, yet their stillness could end instantaneously with an outside rustle imperceptible to me. The knowledge of this keeps me extra focused.Continue Reading

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!