grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Facebook

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BFFs since elementary school:)

WHAT did we do before Facebook? No matter what you may think about it, good or bad, it is an amazing social networking website, shrinking the world every day. I’ve reconnected with people I haven’t seen since 3rd grade, teachers, college friends, people I still don’t remember, prior co-workers and long lost cousins I never knew I had. There are many cousins in our large family.


Everyone has a different Facebook style. Although there are no hard and fast Facebook etiquette rules, it is evident that common sense is not that common. Some folks tend to over-share on Facebook. TMI people. Too much ick. Don’t you just love learning all the vivid details of a friend’s unfortunate late night stomach virus, particularly first thing in the morning while enjoying that first lovely cup of hot coffee? Eeewww. And aren’t we all a bit shocked when someone totally goes off into cyberspace, airing the family’s nasty dirty laundry to infinity and beyond? Was that uncomfortable-to-read post typed out and blasted off in a drunken rage? 

Some friends ‘check-in’ each time they walk in the germy doors of Wal-Mart, as if they are exploring one of the great Seven Wonders. Of course if you really think about it, Wal-Mart just might qualify. I ‘check-in’ occasionally when I am visiting some unusual or special place and leading a super exciting life instead of doing laundry. Like visiting Graceland or attending a Dallas Mavericks game. Of course what is thrilling to one person may be dull to a Memphis Grizzly fan…
How can you not check-in here?

Some obsessed folks constantly post pictures of their schnauzers. Or their garden. Or their food creations.

Some rarely post, rarely comment and rarely take the time to ‘like’ a comment, but you can bet they are reading and Facebook stalking. Some people never have anything positive to say. Why so negative? Alternatively, there are those who post inspirational sayings, bible verses and adorable kitten pictures all day long. Some blurt out an enthusiastic birthday wish or oddball message that is obviously meant for the wall of one specific individual, clearly having no idea its been posted to everyone. These are typically Facebook newbies still within the rule posting grace period. And all those addicted gamers are forever pleading for nails and boards for barn raisings or gifts of some sort. They try to lure you into the madness with invitations and virtual jewels and riches. 

And you gotta love those chain posts. “If you know someone or know someone who knows someone who needs a slap upside the head, or has had a slap upside the head, or slapped someone upside the head, or is planning to slap someone upside the head, or slapped themselves upside the head, please repost this as your status for just one hour. Most of you won’t. Will you? I did.” Ughhhhhh! Just so you know, I’m not gonna do this. And yes I love my children and my husband and my mother and my aunts and my cousins who were my first friends, and my country and I hate cancer and apparently we aren’t supposed to buy gasoline on April 14 but I’m not sure why!

Do you ever wonder who has blocked you or hidden you? Maybe no one is reading this because everyone blocked me long ago. Face it, some folks just aren’t dog people.

My best friend’s mother unfriended me. OUCH…. This woman at whose home I spent many a night laughing and hanging out, just deleted me from her Facebook friend list with a simple click of the mouse. I practically grew up at her house.  I thought we were just having a lively debate… It still stings. 

There seems to be lots of concern and outrage in the Facebook nation over the new Timeline. I don’t understand this. Shouldn’t outrage be reserved for people without clean drinking water or homeless children with no shoes living on the streets? If you agree, repost.

talya

Musical Pairing:

You’ve Got a Friend, James Taylor

my secret garden

By

my well-worn copy

Santa knew I was a voracious reader. He fed my addiction, always bringing me a stack of books for Christmas which I devoured more quickly than the chocolate candy in my stocking. One year he gave me The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It was magical and life-changing as I became completely lost within the pages, on the moors at Misselthwaite Manor. Mary Lennox and I were both ten years old, and I somehow related to her. Living in the country surrounded by bare winter fields could be a bit dull.

It was the first book I read that I simply could not put down. Although I wanted it to last forever, I quickly inhaled it. Wrapped in my blue and white polka dot sleeping bag and hidden underneath the dining room table, I found myself behind the stone garden wall, reading cover to cover one cold, Sunday afternoon, after church. It was a quiet spot to read as long as my little sister didn’t search for me. And it was cozy with the wall furnace nearby. Everyone needs a place to hide sometime. By the time the thistles turned to  roses at the end of the story, I was designing my own secret garden. Someday. 

Our secret garden

Forty years and hundreds of books later, The Secret Garden is still one of my top 10 books. It may even be in my top 5. I re-read it every few years and discover new things each time. And it continues to inspire me as John and I plant and trim and weed our tiny, postage stamp sized yard near downtown Dallas. It was a challenge from the beginning with no fence, bad dirt, a dying trash tree, and an oddly shaped deck. Slowly, we are transforming our bit of earth, hidden behind an iron fence and a few Japanese maple trees.

Along the way, we’ve discovered our garden has a few secrets of its own. Underneath the garage lies an old root cellar. It was filled in years ago, but we discovered its massive concrete doors during pool excavation.  UpCharge…. And each time we dig a hole to plant a flower, we find a brick. Through research we discovered several apartment units were built onto the back of the house for returning soldiers after WWII. After demolition, these bricks were buried over time. So far, we’ve found no gold bricks, jars of silver coins, or a secret garden gate key buried in a badger hole. Although John thinks we might have a badger… 
Within the tangle of oregano lives a yellow plastic army man – he guards the plants with his rifle drawn. I stationed him there after digging him up in the yard, evidently forgotten by a child who played here years ago. That army man is doing a great job – we have enough oregano to open a pizza restaurant. And to say my cactus is thriving is an understatement. What began as a small cutting from my Nana’s cactus is taking over our side yard. Some people inherit jewels or antiques, but I have a family heirloom cactus. 

For such a small space, the life within it is pretty phenomenal. Along with bright green geckos, varieties of butterflies and a giant orange dragonfly that hovers and darts over the pool like the enchanted golden Snitch, we also have entertaining birds. A cardinal family built a nest on one side of the yard and the blue jay family moved in to the adjacent nest. They reluctantly coexist, but occasionally like the Bloods and Crips, there’s a confrontation.

Last weekend, a baby screech owl tried to move into the garden as well. Like nosey neighbors, the cardinals and blue jays lined up along the back fence protesting and gossiping as John fished the fledgling from the pool. Owls can’t swim, and this one was just learning to fly. I suspect the Angry Birds pushed the baby owl into the water. 

The owl has been relocated to a nearby bird sanctuary, the cardinals and blue jays are now settled back into their respective nests and two busy schnauzers are diligently patrolling the perimeter this morning. All is calm, all is bright in our garden refuge.

talya

Musical Pairings:

The Beatles, “Mother Nature’s Son”
KT Tunstall, “White Bird”

“And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.” 
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden


Grown from my Nana’s cactus

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Lisa Marie had a PONY!

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Graceland

I so wanted to be Lisa Marie Presley. Growing up near Memphis, Elvis was local royalty, adored by all. People flocked to Graceland hoping to catch a glimpse of The King. He had been known to toss diamond rings over the iron gates like Mardi Gras beads to passersby. We would have been thrilled to see anyone walking around on the front stoop – a gardener, the pest control man – anyone with access within those hallowed inner walls surrounding the estate. 

Lisa Marie’s TV room.
When Lisa Marie was born, we eagerly soaked up all the available news like crazed stalkers. Although mostly shielded from the public, the newspaper occasionally threw the adoring fans a bone and published a rare photo of Lisa Marie riding her pony in the backyard at Graceland. She had her own pony. Driving by Graceland on the way to the zoo or the Pink Palace Museum, I tried to imagine which bedroom would have been mine had I been born to Elvis and Priscilla instead of Thomas and Barbara? Lisa Marie was the luckiest girl, I didn’t know.

Backside of Graceland

There was a big, kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard of Graceland, which didn’t much compare to our plastic one, filled to the rim with rusty cold water from the hose. The well water sometimes turned our hair and clothes orange, matching our cool shag carpet. Although we had John Deere tractors, Lisa Marie had her own plane. What a charmed life!
Underbelly of the Lisa Marie
As a toddler, Elvis took L-Marie on that plane to see snow in Colorado. Like we didn’t have snow? As a child growing up before global warming, we enjoyed deep snowfalls each winter, dismissing school for weeks at a time, a definite benefit to country living. Did Lisa Marie even have to attend school? Regardless, being a farm girl with a life revolving around weather conditions, I knew good and well the massive weather fronts affecting Northeast Arkansas traveled smooth across the Mississippi River and straight into Memphis over Graceland. We were only a few miles apart as the crow flies. Who was Elvis trying to fool? Memphis and Graceland and Lisa Marie got the same exact snowfall we received. And it made for perfectly delicious snow cream. If I had a plane instead of a tractor, I would go to the beach!
I was convinced that someday lucky Lisa Marie would meet and marry my heartthrob Donny Osmond. She was just that lucky. Each night I gazed at my OhSoCute, life-sized poster of Donny taped to the bedroom closet door. He was wearing a white sequined jumpsuit, much like the one Elvis wore during Live from Las Vegas, only smaller. Seeing Donny O in concert was THE highlight of my pre-teen life. Driving past Graceland on the way to the show, I happily waved to Lisa Marie in case she was looking out my window. In truth, I suspected she was already backstage with Donny.

After Elvis died, I felt so sad for her. Graceland became circus-like as did my hometown. Most of the ladies in Keiser had tickets to Elvis’ upcoming concert which never happened. Did Lisa Marie even have a real home anymore? Maybe she could stay at our house? We practically had a jungle room. 
I don’t know if Lisa Marie ever met Donny Osmond, maybe on Dancing with the Stars? Of course she totally blew whatever chance she had with him when she married Michael Jackson. What on earth was she thinking?  If Elvis is in that grave by the Graceland swimming pool, I know he rolled over a few times when that happened.

Thank goodness for unanswered prayers. Turns out I’m the one with the charmed life.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

talya

Elvis, “All Shook Up”
Donny Osmond, “Puppy Love”

“Elvis was the king. No doubt about it. People like myself, Mick Jagger and all the others only followed in his footsteps.” 
-Rod Stewart 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!