grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Lake Child

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Momma, Daddy, Me, Staci
at the lake
In our family we count down to the lake much like Christmas. Only its better because there’s no shopping stress. Throw some flip flops, t-shirts and bathings suits in a bag and hit the road. There is nothing better.
Of course bathing suit shopping can be extremely stressful, but I don’t much worry about that any more either…
All the kids in our family were born and bred to be lake rats, just as they were raised to love the Razorbacks, country music and cotton.  It takes a special combination of nature and nurture to fully grow into a lake child.

No more sleeps!!!

talya

Musical Pairings:
Let Your Love Flow, Bellamy Brothers

Zach & Taylor

Kelsey & Tate

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore. . . .I hear it in the deep heart’s core. – William Butler Yeats

Happy un-Birthday!

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When my mother was expecting her first child, her due date was July 4th. But I waited around until July 10. It was the only time I’ve been the slightest bit tardy. And I wasn’t really late, I just needed my own day. I didn’t want to share with the entire nation.
July 10, 1965; 3 yrs old
Nana & Papa Creecy, Staci (3 mos)


My 5th birthday party was in our backyard playhouse. Everyone in attendance (Sara, Martha Ann, Anita, Lesa, Staci) brought their baby dolls for an old fashioned tea party. There were homemade invitations and treats. Momma tied long spiral-shaped pastel colored balloons to the weeping willow tree magically transforming the back yard. The tree was amazing. Life was amazing.
 
There were no spa treatments, italian cream cake balls, or hand painted magic wands. We played pin-the-tail on the donkey instead of riding live unicorns through the cotton field.

It was a simpler time.
 
And our birthday tradition – my sister always received one small gift on my birthday, and I on hers. An un-birthday present. Nana and Papa started this tradition because they could never just give one of us something. Momma often still does this…
 
On my 9th birthday we went to Memphis, ate pizza at Shakey’s, waved at Graceland, and rode the Memphis Queen. For those of you keeping up, this was the trip to the Pink Palace when Momma was nearly arrested for a moon rock incident. Her first run-in with the Memphis po-po.  (Moon rock story….)
Memphis Riverboat
 
Later, most of my birthdays were spent at the lake with candles in a slice of watermelon. We ate it on the dock in the sun with sticky juice dripping down our bathing suits. I’ve always preferred watermelon to most other foods, including cake. The only exception was Nana’s Fresh Strawberry Cake. If she came to the lake, I ate that with my watermelon.
Birthday at the lake 1975

 

I spent my 21st birthday in Tokyo during a Baylor summer abroad program. At a disco. In the Ginza. With new friends. A gift of flowers and chocolate and Kirin and karaoke. I missed my lake and my family and my watermelon…
 
On my 30th birthday, my first husband threw me a surprise birthday party. I don’t much like surprises. ESPECIALLY after having spent the Entire Day wallpapering a friend’s apartment. My friend who was InOnTheWholeThing, mentioned not word one to me… but had no problem letting me wallpaper her apartment before my party.

Would a true friend really allow this to happen???  Allow me to stroll back home completely surprised, to a house crammed full of friends, wearing my painting clothes with wallpaper glue in my hair?
 
I think not.
 
Today is my 50th birthday. I’ve decided my mother is the one who should celebrate. She did all the work, deserves the party. I am more excited on Kelsey’s birthday (December 13) and Tate’s birthday (May 18) than my own. Those are the days I celebrate. I worked especially hard on those birthdays… and the following days…
 
I think I’ll buy my momma a watermelon for her un-birthday. I wonder what Staci will get?
 
talya
 
Musical Pairings:
 
Birthday, The Beatles
 
“There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents … and only one for birthday presents, you know.” — Lewis Carroll, from Through the Looking Glass

Just a Girl

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Today. At the writer’s retreat… Tell us a bit about yourself….This is a huge question. How do I convey what I want these folks, these soon to be new friends, these writers, to know about me in 3 minutes? Who am I? 
Last night I thought about the words I threw together describing myself on the “About Me” section of my Grace Grits & Gardening blog, strung together simply off the top of my head with very little thought. Words to fill that blank spot on my intro blog page. Truthful but quickly written.

  • I am a wife. John thinks its cool that I put this first. Maybe all that subliminal southern Baptist rearing stuck back in my head that teaches subservient wifely things? Nah. John describes me as a hard-headed woman, assuring me this is a compliment. I think he is trying to convince himself…
  • I am a mom. These words, this short simple sentence, form the badge I wear most proudly.  If I never do anything else, my life has been productive. I know I have contributed. This allows me to sleep at night.
  • I am a farmer’s daughter. Huge influence. In this life I learned to wake before sunrise, do what I say, reap what I sow, and memorize the words to every classic country song, skills all southern girl should master. 
  • I love to dig in the dirt. Yes, I started making mud pies at an early age. I do my best thinking wearing my worn gardening gloves and would spend my last five bucks on a perennial rather than food or water, unless my Black Eyed-Susans were thirsty of course.
  • I am a book junkie. Oh the places I’ve been within the pages of a book – through the doors of musty wardrobes, behind secret garden walls, into the dark forbidden forest and journeying across cold mountains. Real books that you can see and smell and touch and hold. Books you fall asleep with like a favorite feather pillow that leave imprints and lines on the side of your face and within your heart. 
  • I am a beginning yogi. Yoga has opened my eyes to the possibilities. If you practice you know.
  • I am a beginning writer. This brings me here, to this moment in time, sitting in the very barn where Ernest Hemingway wrote portions of A Farewell to Arms. I am in awe.
  • I try to do something creative every day. See all of the above. 

I’m just a girl from Arkansas.

talya
“Write drunk, edit sober.” Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway Barn


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