grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Twelve . Twenty-One . Twelve

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Has anyone started Christmas shopping yet? Not me – I never start until December. But, are we even going to bother with it this year, with the end of time and all? It’s fast approaching. According to the doomsday fans who follow the Mayan calendar, December 21, 2012 is our day with destiny. No need to contribute to your 401(k) or worry about overeating at Thanksgiving this year. Stop doing those stupid abdominal crunches. It’s over. Finally.

Who can read this thing?

Of course, it was supposed to be over in May, 1980, right before my high school graduation. There was a huge theory in Keiser, Arkansas at the time, that the world was going to end the first week of May. Jesus was going to return, and I was convinced I would be totally left behind, home alone, alone on the planet Earth, NEVER receiving my high school diploma. It wasn’t that I was an evil person or more sinful than the next, but I was worried that I hadn’t done enough. What if I hadn’t been good enough or prayed enough? What if Brother Brown hadn’t given me a proper baptism at Brinkley Chapel where I grew up? And often, on Sunday mornings, I had a hard time concentrating on Brother Brown’s boring sermons. I just couldn’t help it. And the pews were hard. 


When I was in high school, Keiser Baptist Church showed A Thief in the Night over and over to the youth group. A horrifying rapture movie, it was completely traumatizing – right on par with Night of the Living Dead, the scariest movie EVER. I can’t believe my mother let us see it. I wonder if she saw it? Eerie music played as unattended lawnmowers mowed grass and suddenly empty cars crashed into each other, the drivers raptured into the heavens. Freaky!! The mark of the beast and the whole nine yards – it scared the living daylights out of me and every kid in that sanctuary. I guess that was the point. It was gloomy and dark and creepy and resulted in many sleepless nights as I worried about my soul and graduation. I should have been a Catholic – I hear they worry a lot and feel guilty about everything…?

Shouldn’t the second coming be about hope and celebration and joy? But that terrifying movie promoted wide-spread panic and fear. The youth in Keiser discussed this – the signs all pointed to it – rain, drought, frogs, boll weevils, earthquakes, grasshoppers, fires. Who the hell wanted to do those last few months of school work? What did it matter? Couldn’t Mr. Ford somehow move up our graduation so we could at least be raptured (or not) as high school graduates? 

Someone miscalculated, our date with destiny came and went, and the class of 1980 proudly marched across that stage like every class beforehand. Now, 32 years later, we are closing in on another date with fate. Do we really think the early Mesoamericans somehow knew the exact date of the apocalypse? The solstice to end all solstices? The Great Solstice? Similar to The Great Pumpkin?

I’m sure I will go ahead and plan for Christmas. But, we are having the hottest winter on record. And walking this morning, I saw a frog which was a bit strange in this Texas drought.

talya

Musical Pairings:

R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”
The Doors, “The End”

If the world comes to an end, I want to be in Cincinnati. Everything comes there ten years later.
Mark Twain

Frog Legs? Yes, please.

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Had any good frog legs lately? Deep fried with white cream gravy?

When I was in high school, the Wilson Tavern in Wilson, Arkansas had the best all-you-can-eat frog leg buffet on Friday nights. They were slap yo’ momma good.

Frog legs are a true southern delicacy, and my boyfriend, Steve, could make an impressive dent in that buffet. Sadly, The Wilson Tavern closed, but maybe someone in Wilson still has that recipe?

The Wilson Tavern
During the hot steamy Arkansas summers, hours after sunset, Steve taught me to frog gig. We spent many a hot date trolling ditch banks in a john boat looking for frogs. Romantic, no?

Steve wore a flashlight strapped around his head like a coal miner. It takes two hands to properly gig a frog. The victims were thrown into a burlap sack in the belly of the boat where they jumped and twitched sporadically. With my feet holding down the bag-o-frogs, I watched for water moccasins in the low, overhanging tree branches. Mississippi County ditches were tangled with brush and twisty vines, the perfect hiding place for snakes, and each came with an intricately crafted beaver dam.

Frog gigging was not a sport for the faint hearted. 

Recently at my neighborhood Dallas grocery store, I asked one of the workers to point me in the direction of the frog legs. She responded with a blank stare on her young tree-hugger face, as if I hailed from a far away galaxy.

After a pause she replied, “We have organic fruit from Frog Hollow Farm.”

I returned her stare knowing she wasn’t yet born when Yoda trained Luke Skywalker in that frog pond. Then she added, “And we sell organic wine from Frog Pond Winery.”

OhNeverYouMindHippieGirl. 

Apparently this particular grocery store was a big annual supporter of Save the Frogs Day. I didn’t have the heart to explain to the young grocery clerk that the cute little bright green and yellow tree frogs disappearing from the rain forests in Belize, with zero leg meat, aren’t the same ones we gigged in the swampy ditches of Keiser, Arkansas or ate at The Wilson Tavern. I kept this information to myself, paid for a bag of organic asparagus and politely left.

Soon I’ll be back in Arkansas for a visit. Maybe while I’m there, I will eat a platter of frog legs. They taste just like chicken. Only better.

talya

Musical Pairings:

Kermit, “It Ain’t Easy Being Green”
Brad Paisley, “Mud on the Tires”

My Hunger Games

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Am I the only person who hasn’t read The Hunger Games? I am so out of the loop on this book. The movie, opening this month, stars Jennifer Lawrence who was fantastic in Winter’s Bone – a great movie even though it hit a bit too close to home…  I don’t know much about the storyline or the plot, but The Hunger Games is first in a series which peaks my interest. Who doesn’t love a good series? I so miss Harry Potter and Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore. Don’t you wonder what the Weasleys have been doing with themselves? 

Based on the tiny bit I’ve heard about the book, it reminds me of Shirley Jackson’s short story “The Lottery”, which I read in Mrs. Ashley’s 7th grade English class. Mrs. Ashley was one of those life-changing teachers, introducing me to exciting new authors and clearly explaining the difference between to, too and two. Reading the short story, the class was fascinated to discover the twists and turns of the tale. The villagers offered up a human sacrifice each June to ensure a bountiful harvest. It was an annual event, a civic duty, like voting! Hmmmm, the setting was a small farm village, just like Keiser… The unfortunate ‘winner’, chosen at random by a crude lottery, was stoned to death by friends and family. Even the kids made a game of choosing the largest stones – stones they could barely lift. It was riveting in a horrifying sort of way. It made an impression on junior high students who thrived on scary movies, and the parallels were eerie. Could this ever happen in our bucolic farming community… The farmers would probably cut off an arm for a good crop. Mrs. Ashley assured us that would never happen, but I wasn’t so sure. I knew a lot of interesting farmers. I lived with one.

Even the final storyline in Dark Shadows – scariest soap opera ever (which I realize is redundant) – was based on “The Lottery”. That’s how creepy it was. Will a lottery be celebrated in The Hunger Games? And I’m guessing the protagonists are hungry? Perhaps there is no food in their world? Or they must compete for food? A bit of a reality-show-fight-to-the-death-game? Lord knows we all apparently LOVE reality television shows. Like The Biggest Loser where the starved contestants are forced to survive on air, water and nasty sugar free gum. Is Jillian in this book? She annoys me.

I’m dedicating this week to my own hunger game. After eating our way through Fayetteville last weekend with slabs of delicious ribs at Herman’s and yummy gooey pizza at Geraldi’s, I have declared a one week detox game. Rules of the game: eat only veggies, fruit, beans, rice and drink green tea and water. No wine at least until Friday night’s porch party. Last night’s dinner consisted of a basic green cheese-less salad with roasted okra and brown rice. It was a nice change, although my stomach is growling in protest as I type. 
I bought a copy of The Hunger Games at Target yesterday morning along with celery and lettuce. I’m excited to read it. If its half as good as  any of the Harry Potter books, I’ll be thrilled. I’m optimistic it will at least keep my wandering mind off my hunger pains. Let the games begin!
talya


Musical Pairings:


John Lennon, “Mind Games”
Duran Duran, “Hungry like the Wolf”

“Be a good sport, Tessie….we all took the same chance.”  (The Lottery)

“At last darkness has come…I might have loved you, I might have spared you, but now you must die.” Barnabas Collins, Dark Shadows

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!