Walking along Spring Street on a beautiful fall morning, everyone scrambles to do yard work—weeding, raking (a lost cause…), even painting porch railings before winter settles into the mountains.
|Spring Street, Eureka Springs, Ar|
From yard to yard, I overhear the same chat after chat between husbands, wives, yard workers, painters, partners, neighbors, each blending into the next. Same topic, each with a slightly different color or feel or tone. Bits of these conversations floated from porch to sidewalk where I pieced them together like a home-sewn quilt.
One cohesive narration about…
RAZORBACK FOOTBALL, or lack thereof…
the quarterback is ok I guess
coach is awful
be glad when this season is over
we had such high hopes
haven’t even been to a game
and so on and so on
From house to house, I heard streaming Razorback commentary.
As I walked by the last home before the curve toward Dairy Hollow, a man nodded hello to me as he hauled stones for his crumbling rock wall.
“You know, this morning your neighbors all the way back to the library are having one long conversation about the Razorbacks.”
“Guess we should all get together over coffee…” he laughed.
“It’s interesting. One street-long conversation about the Razorbacks.”
“Well, there’s only one topic worse than the Hogs.”