grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

This Could Be Heaven or This Could Be Hell

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just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale
a tale of a fateful trip
that started from the lake side cliffs
aboard this tiny ship. 

The lake is very, very low. This makes all the landmarks appear different. The cliffs are higher, the coves are shallower, the docks are shifted. This is our excuse anyway.

For years we had a cabin in a perfectly secluded cove past Buzzard’s Roost Marina. Before Buzzard’s Roost was a full service marina. We KNOW where Buzzard’s Roost is located on the lake. It’s a familiar spot we can find as easily as driving to Newcomb’s in Osceola.
After a morning of jumping from the cliffs, we boated over to Buzzard’s Roost for gas and ice. Just a short ride around a few coves. The sky was partly sunny. It was hot. Beautiful perfect long-awaited lake day.
Tate was a mighty sailing man, 
Nana crazy for sure. 
Five passengers set sail that day 
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour. 
Approaching the marina the sign prominently displayed in front said Blue Heaven Resort. WHAT? Suddenly the marina was moved or sold or renamed? Or we were lost? Surely not, but there were no gas pumps to be found. The buzzards circling overhead clearly identified we were in the correct place, or else they too were confused. 
Maybe the buzzards follow us due to the condition of our boat and the smell of our skin sizzling?
Slowly trolling while discussing this strange development and scanning the docks for pumps, Ms. Stalya came to a complete abrupt stop, as if we had hit rock bottom jolting the prop. And then she wouldn’t start. No sound. Rude silence. No ice. No water. Buzzards.  

A quick inspection of the motor revealed the ski rope harness had somehow become tangled in the motor, wrapping it tightly until choking it off. The harness, made of coated thick wire, would not budge.  And then, like a scene manufactured in the unnatural Hunger Games arena, a small black cloud appeared only over us. It instantly burst open pelting us with rain. Driving hard stinging rain, seemingly out of nowhere, drenching everything in the boat.
the weather started getting rough, 
the tiny ship was tossed, 
if not for the courage of the fearless crew 
the Stalya would be lost, the Stalya would be lost. 
Just as suddenly, Nana was wearing her purple flowered retro swim cap rendering everyone hysterical but keeping her hair dry. And we knew we would survive.
Surprisingly, we managed to untangle the rope harness from the motor, the boat miraculously started….again, the rain disappeared as quickly as it popped up, and we got the hell out of Blue Heaven cove. 
This was day one.
talya
Musical Pairings:
Skipper: Gilligan, why don’t you stop that. You don’t know anything about space.
Gilligan: I know one thing about it. You take up more of it than I do.
The Ms. Stalya and her namesakes
in MUCH younger days…

Lake Child

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Momma, Daddy, Me, Staci
at the lake
In our family we count down to the lake much like Christmas. Only its better because there’s no shopping stress. Throw some flip flops, t-shirts and bathings suits in a bag and hit the road. There is nothing better.
Of course bathing suit shopping can be extremely stressful, but I don’t much worry about that any more either…
All the kids in our family were born and bred to be lake rats, just as they were raised to love the Razorbacks, country music and cotton.  It takes a special combination of nature and nurture to fully grow into a lake child.

No more sleeps!!!

talya

Musical Pairings:
Let Your Love Flow, Bellamy Brothers

Zach & Taylor

Kelsey & Tate

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore. . . .I hear it in the deep heart’s core. – William Butler Yeats

Chiggers and Bigfoot

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Lake Norfork
Spring break is here! The best thing about spring break is this officially marks the countdown to our annual family Norfork Lake trip. Only about 130 sleeps and that’s chump change. Perhaps I should consider a diet? Nah.
 
I’ve been spending summers at the lake since I was 6 months old. It’s my second home. I could build a shelter and live happily ever after on the sandy island near Jordan, surrounded by clear smooth waters – its like Gilligan’s Island minus the coconuts and bananas. And we have no Professor in our group which might come in handy, especially when the Miss Stalya breaks down. Even when the island is underwater, we motor over there tying up to a tree limb, longing for a gritty island hot dog, but settling for a soggy turkey sandwich. 
 
As kids, sometimes our family went to the lake at Easter. Even though the lake water was icy cold, we wrapped up in beach towels like mummies with our swimsuits underneath jeans and sweatshirts, just in case a tropical front wafted through. We sped around on the lake all day, chilled to the bone but loving every minute. There was no other place we would have rather been. Instead of having a raccoon eyed glow like those cool spring break snow skiers, we had a Norfork Lake wind burn.
 
One year, our cousin Freddie Joe climbed a steep rocky bluff near Henderson and dove into the frosty Easter waters. I didn’t really think he would do it – it was blustery and cold and the sky was overcast. But he was so crazy and fun and full of life – he never even hesitated. Of course after climbing to the top of those bluffs, there’s really only one way down. Geronimo! He climbed back into the boat shivering, his dark mop of wet curls spraying cold water all over us, as we raced back to the warmth of the cabin. Not long after that infamous plunge from the cliff, he died in a tragic car wreck on the interstate near our home. His life was cut much too short, but it was filled to capacity. I always think of him when I see that cliff.
 
Our cabin in the woods

Our little cabin was situated way back in the woods off Tracey Road. You had to know where you were going to find it. In the early morning hours, my sister and I spent hours hiking through those woods surrounding the cabin, picking Black-eyed Susans along with chiggers, while all the adults lingered over breakfast. How they feasted on scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy before donning a bathing suit, we could not understand. And walking through the dense forest, we always kept an eye out for Bigfoot, surprised yet relieved we never found him. If I was Bigfoot, I would live there for sure. 

A few nights ago, I stumbled upon Finding Bigfoot on Animal Planet. I was completely mesmerized by this show. The team was in Kentucky near a Bigfoot ‘hot spot’. The suspense grew as farmers gave testimonies of recent roadside sightings, complete with re-enactments. Sadly the team never found him, but I was totally hooked. It was silly and mindless but more interesting than the other reality tv choices. I don’t care who Ben chooses, which Idol wins or where Khloe is shopping. I wonder if this Bigfoot tracking team has ever traveled to Mountain Home, Arkansas?  
 
In the 1970s when Friday the 13th came out, those dark woods and roads leading to our cabin became a bit scary late at night. Norfork Lake resembled Crystal Lake. Instead of looking for Bigfoot, we avoided Jason. Thank goodness we never found him there. He would certainly mess up our little corner of Heaven.
 
Only 130 sleeps.  Blink of an eye.
 
talya
 
 
Musical Pairings:


Rascal Flatts, “Summer Nights”
War, “Summer”
 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!