grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Sunday Drive: Goshen Cemetery

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Goshen Cemetery

On Sunday, John and I did a little exploring in Goshen Cemetery. Goshen (only a few miles from Fayetteville) was originally settled as a Methodist encampment around the Civil War days. So yes, the cemetery is historical with headstones dating back to the 1800s.

Walk beneath the primitive sign into a million untold stories. Old cemeteries provide history, art, and nature. They are often park-like with mature trees and gorgeous vistas. Each epitaph is attached to a soul who had dreams, secrets, fears.

Carl B Swift

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in the early garden

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early morning in the garden / things the night owls miss

There’s a transparency in the early garden as fresh sunlight begins to filter down from Mount Sequoyah. Sweet air, clear thoughts, the dogs walk instead of sniff. O, the night-owls miss so much. I thank Daddy for my early-bird nature. And, Papa Creecy before him. Growing up in the Delta, I was surrounded by hard-working farmers who saw the sunrise every morning. It’s in my DNA. I bet if I do one of those ancestry tests, the early-bird farm girl slice of pie would be one of the largest pieces.Continue Reading

mid-June Garden Shenanigans

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mid-June Garden Shenanigans

Since I returned from Iceland, I’ve been writing like a fiend. Between all the words, I garden. That’s pretty much it. Weeds, y’all. They are thriving. I know my garden as well as I know the manuscript I’m working on. Because when I say, I garden, what I mean is, I crawl around on my hands and knees looking between flowers, pulling weeds by hand, studying the landscape and what’s changed in my brief absence. (Much like scrubbing the lines of my writing, pulling weed words. See what I did there?) I’m here to announce there are some mid-June garden shenanigans at work in my flower beds.

For real.

It’s as though the tiny garden gnomes said, “Hey, she’s gone for two whole weeks! PAR-TEEEE.”

And they have been.Continue Reading

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