grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

the grass grows

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Yesterday I parked in Daddy’s parking spot. The place where he always parked his dusty farm truck, not in the carport but along the gravel road beside the field. Grass now grows through the gravel, nearly covering it. I guess he really isn’t coming back.

I still expect to see him dragging through the back door for supper, hungry yet too exhausted to eat, his jeans hanging loose and tired. I still hear him grumble about the rain shower today. Such terrible timing during cotton harvest…
On the porch, wheat from his last harvest still fills a vase. Eighteen years later.
At the Corral diner in Keiser … Are you Thomas Tate’s girl? I remember seeing your daddy drive up and down the road in front of my house at Coleman Lateral. Seems like I saw his truck ten times a day when they were pickin’ cotton… He’s been gone a long time, hasn’t he?
Yes ma’am.
In eighteen years, most everything changes.

The tree Daddy planted my senior year of high school soars over the back yard. Only a twig at the time, he transplanted it from the banks of Little River.

Grass now grows through the gravel, nearly covering his parking spot. 
I still feel the same. 
talya
Musical Pairings:

I Miss You a Little, John Michael Montgomery

too much to dream

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Do you dream? I suppose everyone dreams, but some say they can’t remember their dreams. I dream all night every night. Crazy, vivid dreams, in color and often with music.
What would Freud think?

Two nights ago I tubed down the Rio Grande River
on a white inner tube, the sort that little kids use before learning to swim. It was just after dawn and the water was cold and fast. During this adventure, I made a stop at an old museum near the bank of the river. Two stories with wide-plank wooden floors, the museum was filled with Al Capone artifacts. Back in the water, I finished my tubing trip and dream with a splash as the Rio Grande fed into a secluded cove at Lake Norfork.

Usually I can tie my dreams to something that happened the prior day. Something someone said, something I saw or a fleeting thought that passed through my head. 

I did recently drive over to see the Mississippi River at the Osceola River Port. Maybe it reminded me of the Rio Grande? On Saturday afternoon, I made a quick trip inside the Lepanto Museum while at the Terrapin Derby. And of course, the Bat Cave is filled with artifacts – not exactly Al Capone related, but Momma does have gangster tendencies.
  

Yesterday I read my friend Gary Henderson’s stories about the Zombie Apocalypse. I didn’t sleep at all last night. 
Your fault Gary.

Queen for a Day

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Queen for a DayThere is nothing like a fake bejeweled crown to bring out the claws and money clips. The Halloween Carnival in Keiser, Arkansas was THE fall event of the school year. The anticipated crowning of the Halloween King and Queen rooted the dirty farmers out of the fields during cotton harvest, the most holiest of seasons. Devious PTA wannabe queen-mothers administered full blown campaigns for their prospective royal children.Mississippi County drama at its finest.
Each class had nominees selected by classmates, but only one couple could win. I know this may be  rather shocking in today’s every-single-kid-gets-a-trophy-no-kid-gets-left-behind world. But that’s how things worked back then. The winner was selected based on funds raised for the PTA. Pure greed. Cut throat, not popular vote.One winner, a bunch of losers and no pizza party afterward. Greatness.
In second grade, Craig Barnett and I were nominated as Halloween King and Queen. Our families were friends, our dads farmed side by side, often even vacationing together. So I knew Craig pretty well and was fairly certain he had cooties. He likely felt the same about me.

To raise money for our class, we sold chocolate chip cookies and caramel apples after school and peddled homemade cupcakes to the folks who attended the live auction near our home at Cottonwood Corner. This became our full time job for weeks and weeks. Halloween child slavery.

Keiser School

One of our biggest fundraisers was a rummage sale in downtown Keiser, hosted by our crazed mothers. Ms. Barnett, the quintessential schemer, could always pull a rabbit from her hat. Or from Clide’s hat (Craig’s dad). She lured in hordes of shoppers by hanging her mink stole and Clide’s expensive mohair jacket front and center. These luxury items were well overpriced so no one would actually buy them, but displayed perfectly to attract the nosy townsfolk. This was the talk of our little town, and Clide Barnett was none too happy. Especially since he was seen wearing the camel coat at the country club the weekend before.
 Queen and King of Halloween
My second grade class raised an impressive amount of money by 1969 standards. Craig and I were crowned Halloween King and Queen of Keiser Elementary School. Draped with a velvet robe and an armful of flowers, I still remember how those giant white mums smelled. The crown, constructed of white cardboard, silver glitter and Elmer’s glue, was the envy of all.I now realize after the money was tallied, the final selection was made based on whose parents and grandparents threw the most extra money in the PTA pot at the last minute. We both came from families of natural born gamblers, so we were auctioned off like prized cattle. A farmer frenzy.Forty + years later, Craig and I are still bonded by that coronation.

talya

Musical Pairings:
Queen – Tie Your Mother Down


 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

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