ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
Three little words arranged into one short question opens up a world of memory for me. Why I garden? As I think about my love for digging in the soil, I realize even dream-like and fleeting experiences have become deeply imprinted on my mind. People, places, aromas, songs, the way our family lived as part of the land—if I dissect my memories, these glimpses of my life add up to a love of nature and gardening.
Dear Sunday Letter friends,
Welcome to the backside of July. As we slip-slide into the dog days of summer, I find myself looking toward fall. Once 4th of July is over and my birthday comes and goes, the rest of summer feels like Side B of a record I was just dying to have.
Remember Side B?
We saved our money and begged our Mommas to drive us to town so we could hand over a few waded up paper bills. Then for the rest of the summer we played Side A over and over until we memorized all the lyrics or made up the words we couldn’t quite understand. Side A was everything we thought it would be, but the flip side? It was just okay. Not the reason we doled out the money in the first place.Continue Reading
I’d always wanted to explore the vintage shops along Highway 412 in Alpena, Arkansas, yet I’d never stopped because I was on my way somewhere else. A few days ago, I made Alpena my destination. No, of course, I don’t need any stuff. This is about what I didn’t buy yet carried home anyhow.
Setting out to explore without buying is a different sort of adventure. I go with the intention of remembering.
Inspiration lives in the most unexpected places. There’s a treasure trove inside musty shops filled to the rafters with my very own childhood artifacts. Old toys and books and dishes like Momma served fried potatoes on lay claim to me as I do them.
In a way, these outings serve as writing research.☺ Flea markets and vintage boutiques are bona fide Gracie Lee museums.
Yes, I love my job.Continue Reading
