grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Violet Cemetery, Osceola, Arkansas

By

Violet Cemetery, Osceola, Ar

I want to be buried here. Someday. Just plant my dead body in the midst of the gorgeous tulips, and I would be happy for all eternity. 

Is this not the most beautiful cemetery?

Violet Cemetery is the final resting place for early settlers, war veterans and founding fathers of Osceola, Arkansas. Obviously I won’t be allowed in. The first grave marker dated 1831 pre-dates the founding of Mississippi County and Arkansas Statehood. It’s truly a peaceful patch of heaven, smack in the center of downtown Osceola, across from the tired little post office and fire station. 


tulips grow like ground cover
Growing up, downtown Osceola was vibrant. It was a treat to shop at Sterlings, buying goldfish which unfortunately didn’t live long in our household. I purchased my first 45 record down at the end of Main Street. Although the record shop is long gone and forgotten by most, that 1970’s vinyl still lives deep within our quiet bedroom closet with dusty board games and old prom dresses.  

Years ago, a group of dedicated citizens formed an association to beautify the neglected cemetery. Raising funds, they re-set and repaired markers and planted violets at each grave, hence the name.  Although the violets were not blooming when I visited, the tulips were absolutely brilliant. Multiplying and spreading across the cemetery, they were nearly choking out the grave markers, pushing up through the cracks of the stepping stones, clearly thriving in this spot. Gene Robinson, an energetic resident who was devoted to Osceola, worked tirelessly to insure Violet Cemetery was added to the National Register of Historic Places. She died recently, but I bet she is smiling over these happy tulips.


Although activity has migrated toward the interstate and the new Wal-Mart, in the center of Osceola, Violet Cemetery still shines.

talya

“The true meaning of life is to plant trees under which you never expect to sit.” Nelson Henderson

“Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things: enter into the joy of your lord.” (King James, Matthew 25:23)

Works of art…

Osceola history
died Nov 23 1884

Musical Beds

By

Has anyone tried the new McDonald’s Fish McBites? They have been heavily advertised everywhere lately. Who buys these things? I couldn’t even bribe my 11-year-old niece and nephew to test them out during one of our four McDonald’s stops Saturday. Yes, we made four McDonald’s pit stops driving from Dallas to our childhood home in Osceola, Arkansas. The fresh brewed iced tea and generally clean bathrooms make it often the best, safest stop along the way. This 8 hour drive marked the beginning of our exciting spring break kick-off. No exhilarating snow skiing trips to Vail or warm, sunny Caribbean cruises with tropical coconut umbrella drinks. No lazy walks on sugary Destin beaches for us.  Our family spring break trips include Arkansas, complete with tornado warnings, horse races and trips to That Bookstore in Blytheville. Always. That’s just how we are.
As soon as we walked into our house in Arkansas, an immediate argument ensued involving who would sleep where. Tired, numb and irritable, this issue was suddenly escalated to our number one hot topic, ahead of dinner plans. There are 4 bedrooms in this sprawling house if you include the cave-like, tornado-shelter, doll tomb room. I was NOT going to sleep in there. The house rambles around almost in a horseshoe shape, with one bedroom facing each direction which makes for better storm viewing. Rooms were added every few years when Daddy had an especially good crop and Momma was particularly bored.
Add caption

The big bedroom in the back of the house is the room Staci and I shared growing up. It’s still our room. The man from Memphis who installed our orange shag carpet in the early 1970s told us he installed the exact carpet in Graceland for Elvis! Wow. And now with one flip of her long straight hair, my niece decided she would sleep in our room? NotGonnaHappen. Our stuff is still in there. Our handprints from Vacation Bible School still mark the space.

A slight meltdown followed as we ignored her. And there was pouting. She shot us the stink eye. With one quick glance to my sister, we silently formed an allegiance like old times, completely pulling rank, taking back what was rightfully ours. We could do that hair flip too, summoning the ghost of our 1970s long mousy brown ironing board straight hair. (insert eye roll here) My niece, Taylor, clearly had no idea we were once cool. Sorta. We haven’t always had this old short brittle hair.
That night, Staci and I settled into our big king sized bed giggling and gossiping until we drifted off to sleep, with visions of an earlier time dancing in our head. There is something about being home that makes you revert to being a teenager…All was calm, until we woke up frozen half to death. It was cold and windy in the back of the house, in our bedroom, even piled under quilts and blankets. We tossed and turned, too cold to escape long enough to turn up the heat. That next morning my back was stiff and my neck hurt. I didn’t feel like a teenager. Was Staci alive? She wasn’t moving. The bed was hard and the pillow was a stone. It didn’t seem the same.
As we crawled into the kitchen for coffee, Momma confessed that our comfy bed had been switched out with another ancient bed from Papa Creecy’s house. What?? Ick! Suddenly our room didn’t seem so attractive. With our sister alliance still firmly in place at breakfast we announced to Taylor, “You can have our bedroom tonight. So you can watch the tv.”

Hollow victory.

talya

Beatles, “I’m so Tired”
The Chordettes, “Mr. Sandman”

Chiggers and Bigfoot

By

Lake Norfork
Spring break is here! The best thing about spring break is this officially marks the countdown to our annual family Norfork Lake trip. Only about 130 sleeps and that’s chump change. Perhaps I should consider a diet? Nah.
 
I’ve been spending summers at the lake since I was 6 months old. It’s my second home. I could build a shelter and live happily ever after on the sandy island near Jordan, surrounded by clear smooth waters – its like Gilligan’s Island minus the coconuts and bananas. And we have no Professor in our group which might come in handy, especially when the Miss Stalya breaks down. Even when the island is underwater, we motor over there tying up to a tree limb, longing for a gritty island hot dog, but settling for a soggy turkey sandwich. 
 
As kids, sometimes our family went to the lake at Easter. Even though the lake water was icy cold, we wrapped up in beach towels like mummies with our swimsuits underneath jeans and sweatshirts, just in case a tropical front wafted through. We sped around on the lake all day, chilled to the bone but loving every minute. There was no other place we would have rather been. Instead of having a raccoon eyed glow like those cool spring break snow skiers, we had a Norfork Lake wind burn.
 
One year, our cousin Freddie Joe climbed a steep rocky bluff near Henderson and dove into the frosty Easter waters. I didn’t really think he would do it – it was blustery and cold and the sky was overcast. But he was so crazy and fun and full of life – he never even hesitated. Of course after climbing to the top of those bluffs, there’s really only one way down. Geronimo! He climbed back into the boat shivering, his dark mop of wet curls spraying cold water all over us, as we raced back to the warmth of the cabin. Not long after that infamous plunge from the cliff, he died in a tragic car wreck on the interstate near our home. His life was cut much too short, but it was filled to capacity. I always think of him when I see that cliff.
 
Our cabin in the woods

Our little cabin was situated way back in the woods off Tracey Road. You had to know where you were going to find it. In the early morning hours, my sister and I spent hours hiking through those woods surrounding the cabin, picking Black-eyed Susans along with chiggers, while all the adults lingered over breakfast. How they feasted on scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy before donning a bathing suit, we could not understand. And walking through the dense forest, we always kept an eye out for Bigfoot, surprised yet relieved we never found him. If I was Bigfoot, I would live there for sure. 

A few nights ago, I stumbled upon Finding Bigfoot on Animal Planet. I was completely mesmerized by this show. The team was in Kentucky near a Bigfoot ‘hot spot’. The suspense grew as farmers gave testimonies of recent roadside sightings, complete with re-enactments. Sadly the team never found him, but I was totally hooked. It was silly and mindless but more interesting than the other reality tv choices. I don’t care who Ben chooses, which Idol wins or where Khloe is shopping. I wonder if this Bigfoot tracking team has ever traveled to Mountain Home, Arkansas?  
 
In the 1970s when Friday the 13th came out, those dark woods and roads leading to our cabin became a bit scary late at night. Norfork Lake resembled Crystal Lake. Instead of looking for Bigfoot, we avoided Jason. Thank goodness we never found him there. He would certainly mess up our little corner of Heaven.
 
Only 130 sleeps.  Blink of an eye.
 
talya
 
 
Musical Pairings:


Rascal Flatts, “Summer Nights”
War, “Summer”
 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!