Summer Archives - Page 2 of 8 - grace grits and gardening

Pictured: chasing after summer

September 10, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner 3 Comments

P I C T U R E D: chasing after summer

With only twelve days left until the official start of fall, I find myself chasing after summer. Hanging on. Thinking back. Wondering if I did everything I planned. (Of course I didn’t.)

As much as I look forward to cooler weather and pumpkins on my front porch, I feel a bit sad about saying goodbye to the ease that comes with slow, warm days. Maybe it’s because each summer zips by faster than the one before. Or because I’ve been missing my kids and feeling like, these days, families are simply too spread out.Continue Reading

Pictured: Sunny Side of the Street

August 13, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner 7 Comments

P I C T U R E D: Sunny Side of the Street

I’m most certainly an amateur when it comes to photography, but I love taking pictures and snap lots of photos everyday. Although these pictures were taken at different times in different parts of Arkansas, the bright sunshine ties them together. From woods to battlefield to our front porch, the sunshine adds a glow to each, softening the composition of even a sad, collapsed church building.

Don’t forget to listen to the musical pairing at the end. It’s one of my favorites.

Can’t you hear the pitter-pat
And that happy tune is your step
Life can be complete
On the sunny side of the street

Eureka Springs

On the sunny side of the street - Old First Baptist Church

Osceola

Helena

Gamaliel

Fayetteville (our front porch)

1. Expert stonemasonry.

2. Abandoned.

3. Earthen fort.

4. Welcome to the lake.

5. Leave your worries on the doorstep.

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

[tweetthis]Pictured: Sunny side of the street. @artourism #Arkansas [/tweetthis]

Musical Pairing:

Willie Nelson, Sunny Side of the Street

Dear July,

July 10, 2015 By Talya Tate Boerner 14 Comments

My friend Sarah Shotts, who blogs at A Love Letter to Adventure, inspired me to write this post Dear July. During the month of July, Sarah is video journaling in a series called Letters to July. I encourage you to check out her blog today. She is doing innovative, creative work not only with her July letters, but also in Project Stir (her global recipe project). Since I haven’t yet mastered the nuances of videoing (aren’t you glad? ha!), I decided to write a letter to July the old-fashioned way with pen to paper (then reproduced here, of course).

So, corny or not, here we go…

Dear July,

It seems as though I saw you only two or three months ago, yet here you are again. Somehow another entire year has passed. I have a confession. Did you know I love and hate you all at the same time? It’s true. I’ve thought about it for a long, long time.

July, you’ve always shown up bringing a bundle of my favorite things…family vacations, juicy watermelon, and a blue sky filled with lofty clouds. Even with all these wonderful gifts, the truth is that sometimes, most times, you are steamy and unbearable and I want you to disappear into a cool autumn breeze. But not this year, not so far, at least. This year I wouldn’t recognize you at all if not for the flicker of lightning bugs outside my kitchen window.

In case you’ve forgotten, today is my birthday. Today I turn fifty-three years old. That’s another reason I’m quite fond of you. Doesn’t everyone love their birthday month?

I’m not sure how I blinked and became fifty-three, but I did. And I’m not complaining. It’s a privilege, really, this aging thing. For whatever reason, many folks don’t get the luxury. Anyway, I thought you should know, I’m grateful for the memories so far—I hold them close and revisit them often like an old favorite book.

If you think about it, we have quite a history—fifty-three trips around the sun together is an impressive distance for someone who doesn’t like to travel all that much. Happy birthday to you and me and cheers to our next journey around the globe. Let’s try to enjoy more of the moments and remember they aren’t infinite. You order up the yellow sunshine (not too terribly hot, please), and I’ll bring the sunscreen.

And wine. There should be wine.

Your friend,

Me.