Eureka Springs - grace grits and gardening

Arkansas: My Happy Place

October 21, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

Once I cross the state line into Arkansas (from any direction), I can breathe and think as the pace seems to slow just a notch.

I was born there.

I couldn’t get away fast enough.

I hurry back as often as I can.

Arkansas is where I go to relax, recharge, remember.

I’m headed there today.

Hot Springs

Lake Norfork

Dairy Hollow Writer’s Colony, Eureka Springs

Keiser

Hemingway-Pfeiffer, Piggott

Fayetteville

The Farm. Mississippi County

Maya Angelou said the ache for home lives in all of us.

Where’s your happy place?

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

“Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.”
― Donald Miller

Musical Pairing:

Los Lonely Boys, Heaven

burning down the house!

December 4, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Two months ago, our house nearly burned.

In the spirit of fiction writing, I exaggerate a bit, but it was a close call. I was in Arkansas and therefore not responsible nor a suspect. John returned from work to a smoke-filled downstairs. Dallas fire fighters paid us a visit with sirens blaring—it was that bad.

A basket of napkins smoldered atop the microwave, too close to a hot halogen light.

basket o’ cloth napkins

What if John had worked late or gone to happy hour?

bottom of cabinet. nice.

The underside of our cabinet is extra crispy. Inside the cabinet smells of a rump roast grilling on a Weber. For hours I washed glasses, doors and shelves.

I heated lemon slices which I thought might eliminate the odor.

With the kitchen door ajar and ceiling fan whirring for hours, a swarm of mosquitoes moved into our home, hiding in corners and underneath furniture. Yes, DallasHasMosquitoesYearRound!

I burned my favorite candle to a nub, almost starting another fire.

The citrus and rosemary chicken baked for dinner masked the smell for one episode of Mad Men.

An open sack of Dunkin Donut coffee absorbed a touch of the odor, but smoked my favorite coffee.

I ignored it. I packed my car, locked the back door and drove to Dairy Hollow for a writer’s retreat. I became a witch for Eureka Springs’ Halloween, the streets filled with zombies and ghosts. Real or imagined?

In Fayetteville, purple and orange pansies grow where weeds once lived. I painted the last louver door! Thanksgiving at my sister-in-law’s—I only baked a pecan pie and potato casserole, a major departure for me.

Fearlessly, I wrote in the Ozarks, making new friends, thinking fresh thoughts.

Never once did I think about my Dallas kitchen, 350 miles southwest, smelling of forest fire mixed with Pine Sol. Yet,

ItStillStinks.

I suppose I shall be forced to paint. Ideas, anyone? anyone?

talya

Burning Down the House, Talking Heads

Storybook Journal

November 5, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

jour·nal a record of experiences, ideas, or reflections kept regularly for private use. (Merriam-Webster definition 1c)

On the afternoon of my last full day at Dairy Hollow, I opened the middle section of an antique bookcase to reveal a drop-down desk. Inside, I found journals provided to guests when the property was a bed-and-breakfast. For an hour (or more) I became lost in the entries dated 1988-1995. Hundreds of thoughts and reflections, along with detailed sketches and poems.

The stories were similar. This peaceful spot in the Ozarks affected each guest in the same manner. People were drawn from across the country, all with different circumstances–newlyweds, lost souls, stressed out families. Some folks were simply passing through. Each with different issues and lives, all leaving with a common bond.

Connecting randomly selected sentences from five journals–a letter to Dairy Hollow…

Dear Dairy Hollow—

My bride and I arrived late on January 4 all decked out in glorious wedding attire. She was beautiful… I didn’t know a woman could change so much from one night to the next morning! Just kidding! (1992). This can’t be real life…we have stepped into the pages of a storybook and like Goldilocks, everything was “just right.” (1988)

I have traveled many miles visiting hundreds of inns…fine, stately mansions with exquisite furnishings….others are cute little places. Each is a reflection of the innkeeper’s soul. Some have no soul…Dairy Hollow stands out…there is a mystical quality. (1990) Our last night in particular I felt and understood the power of this place. (1993)

This has been a pleasant way to start a life together. (1991) No phones, no television. It is so sweet to remember how less is always more. (1988) We love this place. (1995)

Home Sweet Home (1988)

Love…

talya

More than a Feeling, Boston

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”
― Roald Dahl

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