grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Imagine

By

This morning I am enjoying my first cup of coffee outside. Two days after the city aerial bombed us with poison, there are no mosquitoes. I am skeptical, still waiting for a sting, and worried the war on mosquitoes has destroyed all life in my back yard.


Thankfully I see a dragon fly buzzing around the pool seemingly unaffected.

The temperature, still warm, has a hint of fall tucked within the slight breeze. Is it my imagination? I watch the clouds overhead. They watch me.

As kids, we spent hours flat on our backs in the front yard studying the clouds. Our grass blanket itched and stuck to our sweaty legs, but we didn’t mind. Cloud gazing, an impromptu cool down from cartwheels or freeze tag, wasn’t planned in advance, so a quilt was never considered. 

We called out the shapes of animals and objects like a game of I Spy. A dog. A rabbit. A donut. A boat. White and fluffy, the clouds adding color to sunset. I wondered where the clouds ended up after drifting over Mississippi County. 

Overhead, thin airplane vapors were always exciting to see. At the top of the sky, curving, never stopping in Arkansas. I imagined where the lucky people were going. I imagined where I would go.


Today I see the remains of jet vapor – a straight line with hash marks. A white picket fence. A railroad track. I imagine where the busy people are going. I am content to be drinking coffee. I imagine I am not the only one. Just watching.

talya

Musical Pairings:

Imagine – John Lennon

You must not blame me if I do talk to the clouds. Henry Thoreau

The Horror Within

By

For about 5 minutes this morning, I wasn’t sure what my next blog post would be. Dreaded Writer’s Block…? What if I never had another inspired thought? 

Still half asleep, I contemplated this terrible notion while plodding downstairs to let the dogs out. But ideas reveal themselves. There in my kitchen, lit only by the glow of breaking dawn, swarmed my next story. Delivered straight from Mystery Science Theater. 

It was too early for a Miller Lite.


While I slept my home had become freakishly overtaken by HUGE flies.  Flies the size of bumble bees. They congregated in my kitchen window and crawled underneath the partially lowered window shade, their silhouettes exaggerated like large hairy spiders. It was waaaaaay too early for such a bizarre scene.

I know what you are thinking. And NO, my house is clean. I’m a bit of a clean freak. The opposite of a hoarder. There was nothing immediately obvious to attract these alien flies. No dirty dishes, no smelly trash, no decaying bodies. 

Horror is often unexplained.

Big as a penny flies!
I swatted twenty-two flies in the kitchen before downing my first cup of not-strong-enough black coffee. Nine more latched on to the back door glass. What brought this about?? 

A Dallas City Hall mosquito-spraying experiment gone bad? The beginning of the Rapture? Amityville?

Halloween is a huge deal in Munger Place – the entire neighborhood goes overboard with decorations and parties and candy, setting aside grocery money for the occasion. Had the flies attacked two months from now, I would have embraced these otherworldly and free  decorations… But not mid-August.

I eliminated as many as I could and went to yoga class to namaste it away. Just breathe….

Upon my return, the monsters had multiplied like a sick virus, covering every downstairs window. Kitchen, Living Room, Dining Room, Stair Landing. My life had evolved into a 1960’s sci-fi movie, a cross between The Birds and The Fly. 

For an hour I swatted the windows, splattering these huge flies, leaving blurry bacteria smears on the glass and dead carcasses on the floor. They were oddly slow moving, I killed two and three at a time. After washing every window with a vinegar cleaner and vacuuming up the casualties, I was panicked to discover the first window I eradicated was completely possessed again.

Meanwhile, this entire horror episode did not set well with sweet, sensitive Annabelle. She was traumatized and trembling, disturbed by the noisy fly swatter and my near hysteria. She went outside and only reluctantly came back. To pack her bag. I think she’s moving.

Dogs are smart.

talya

Musical Pairings:

The Birds – Final Attack Sequence with Full Symphonic Score

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly, 

I don’t know why she swallowed a fly,

Perhaps she’ll die.



p.s. I have no solution…. after researching I believe these cluster flies. 

Like the First Morning

By

Finally. A soaking rain in Dallas. Complete with an impressive lightning display cracking and splitting the black sky into puzzle pieces, illuminating my late night bedroom. Lucy and Annabelle, having forgotten the sensation, burrowed deeply underneath the bedsheet, touching my toes. Sleeping weather.

This morning, an extra long walk, the temperature unexpectedly pleasant after the rain. Water puddled on the sidewalks and streets. Honest to goodness puddles capable of respectable splashes. Forty years ago I would have sloshed right through each water hole wearing bright yellow rain boots. 
The birds appreciated the rare rain. Joyful, chirping and chattering, sounding more like early spring than tired summer. Like the first morning, like the first bird.

The trees, relieved, stood a bit taller. For a brief moment, the entire city was relieved, fresh from the world.

An unseen squirrel scampering on an overhead branch doused us with rainwater from drippy leaves. On purpose I think. Forty years ago I would have shaken the branches myself, running underneath the shower like a backyard sprinkler. In my bright yellow rain boots.

The rain enhanced the morning smells, intensifying the dirt and grass and pollen. Underneath a neighbor’s cedar tree, the aroma was intoxicating, the peppery smell itching my nose, making me sneeze. Lucy and Annabelle rooted around like armadillos.
Nearly back home, I slipped off my tennis shoes and walked barefoot, my feet sinking into the sweetness of the spongy grass. Like the first day.
 
talya

Musical Pairings:

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!