grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

The Man with the Hyena Laugh

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Daddy’s latest beer-drinking buddy almost permanently moved into the spare bedroom. For several days and nights he ate our food, smoked Daddy’s cigarettes and watched his favorite shows on our television. Even though his beady eyes and piercing hyena laugh made the invisible hairs on the back of my neck crawl, I politely smiled and waited. I knew Momma would eventually tire of playing hostess and maid. Sure enough on Tuesday night, Momma threw a hissy fit and declared his vacation over while he stood at the open refrigerator wolfing down leftover Sunday pot roast. But like a stray dog, a few weeks later he followed Daddy home again.

hyenaGrace Grits and Gardening

This was written especially for Fearless Writing Alumni Practice. Prompt: 6 Sentence Story Structure from Sacred List Crawl

Musical Pairing:

Chow Down, The Lion King Hyena Song

Winter Bat Cave

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The house where I grew up is lovingly named the Bat Cave because my mother’s initials are BAT (Barbara Ann Tate). Even more appropriately, the name fits as certain rooms are windowless are dark due to add-ons oddly placed here and there whenever Daddy had a good crop.

The Bat Cave is a place of great adventure. Never-a-dull-moment adventure. At the mere smell of a distant rain shower, the electricity flickers twice then goes out. And speaking of rain… Rain leads to standing water in the back yard. Standing water results in toilet flushing problems… That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

Momma, my sister and I recently loaded up and drove from Dallas to the Bat Cave to take care of farm business. We did this even though bad weather was forecasted. Even though we knew better.

A little snow?

Ha.

We weren’t afraid of a little snow. Plus, caves are supposed to be cold, right?

Yes indeedy.

Ice Storm

We didn’t factor in ice.

Before the most boring of all Super Bowl games ended, the Bat Cave was sealed inside an inch of glassy ice. Trees were quickly transformed into beautiful Chihuly-like artwork. Gale force winds snapped power lines. Telephone poles were sucked from the Mississippi County gumbo and lobbed into fields along the highway leading to the cave.

Fun! Just like old times, we had a bunkin’ party complete with friends from grade school. We slept piled together underneath hundred year old quilts. A night of giggling and reminiscing gave way to an arctic morning with no heat, no coffee, no showers…

Fortunately, folks take care of each other in the country, and our favorite farmer rigged up a duck pit heater in the kitchen and brought us strong black coffee. He’s a lifesaver that way.

Duck Pit Heater

Excitement faded as temperatures plunged and reality settled in. Thirteen electric poles were down within the two mile Bat Cave-to-Cottonwood Corner stretch. Thirteen…

Over the next few days, we became gypsies. During daylight hours, we camped out in the duck pit kitchen wearing multiple layers of clothing. I hung quilts in doorways to trap heat. Before nightfall we escaped to Memphis to the warmth of a hotel room. We turned our debacle into a semi-vacation by visiting the Peabody ducks, dining on Beale Street, and touring the greatness of Sun Studio. We even cheered our beloved Dallas Mavericks to victory over the Grizzlies with last minute, excellent seats. (Since the Grizzlies are my backup team, it was a double treat.)

Memphis

Downtown Memphis w/ Mississippi River; Sun Studios; Peabody Ducks; Fed Ex Forum

 

After four days with no electricity, power has been restored to the cave, knock-on-wood. We are luxuriating in the warmth and enjoying all those things typically taken for granted like being able to wash dirty underwear and enjoy a cup of coffee…

But there is snow in the forecast tonight. The splendor could be short lived.

Grace Grits and Gardening

A huge thank you to all the folks who have worked around the clock in frigid weather to restore power to Mississippi County! 

Musical Pairing:

My Starter Won’t Start, Justin Townes Earle

I was no Nadia Comaneci.

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Nadia Comaneci

(this is a snippet from my book…)

In 1976 when Nadia Comaneci floated through each gymnastic routine with grace and control and filled her suitcase full of gold medals, I knew I was in big trouble. Nadia and I were the same age. She scored perfect 10 after perfect 10, and so far I’d done nothing remarkable.

“Why can’t you do something like that?” Daddy pointed at the television from his place on the couch.”  

“I don’t know, I just can’t. My body isn’t made that way.” I slunk down in the chair and stared at the leftover popcorn kernels in my bowl. I still couldn’t do a very good round off, although I practiced every afternoon.

Daddy shook his head and smirked. “Maybe if you didn’t sit around after school watching television…”

“Well I know one thing. In 1980 when the next Olympics comes, I’ll be a senior. I’ll be graduating and getting married and watching television in my own house.”

Everyone stared at my revelation.

I was shocked by my revelation.

Even Nadia seemed to pause and gape at me through the television screen.

“No you won’t. You’ll be going to college,” Daddy said.

“Oh yeah, that’s true,”  I remembered. Even so, I couldn’t wait until 1980.

 

Grace Grits and Gardening

Musical Pairing:

Nadia Comaneci – Perfect Ten

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!