A bright sunny day. Cold still, so covering up the tender brassicas and lettuces at night. But I think they are doing well. I am already bored with myself. I am not sure what I am doing. I feel like I am on a loop, yea, getting things done, but I feel like it is time to do something BIG again. It’s been so long since I did something big.
Friend W and I went to a nursery last week to get soil for the garden beds. It was suuuuuch an enjoyable day. The nursery is right in the middle of an area with loads of commercial nurseries, so it’s very old school. The nursery owner even gave me a receipt with the purple-cast writing on it. It was $14 a bag, and we loaded up 14 bags.
We then went to a “meat and a three” for lunch. Yall. It was so good! It has been decades since I have been to a place like this. Chicken and dumplings? Yes. Cornbread and pintos? Absolutely. Strong, real tea? Totally.
We sat elbow-to-elbow (well almost) with everyone else. Everyone seemed to know each other. This place inspired a huge wave of nostalgia-bliss in two women from opposite worlds. W is from a small southern town, lived here her whole life, traveled around the South for her job before she retired. Me, a bit of a vagabond, a dreaded West Coast infiltrator, in this secluded south-of-the-Mason-Dixon heaven.
But I did spend my young adult years in a different southern state, traveling for work, as a vegetarian, no less.
“Well darlin you can eat any of the vegetables here!”
“Do they have meat at all?”
“Oh no, just a lil fatback for flavor!!!”
They had never met a vegetarian before (most likely) given the number of questions I would get. But I loved – and still do – every single moment of this world.
I love the small town stories of the gentle place in which we landed. I love the very particular accent of someone who was born and raised in this lovely place full of cow pastures and football games. My heart swells when I hear this accent. I must have a soft spot for good-ole-boys (GOBs). It’s one of the things I love about Eric. He’s a GOB that didn’t get the benefit of GOB training. He’s a GOB in hiding behind a nerdy, brainy exterior. But don’t ever underestimate him: he can open a can of woop-ass if he needs to. And he has had the formal training, too.
Where am I going with this? I’m not sure. All I know is that our beds need more soil so we have to go back to that nursery in the next week or so. I hope lunch is part of it.