Today marks the first book birthday of The Third Act of Theo Gruene. I can’t believe it! Kids sure grow up fast, don’t they?

Spring is the perfect time to celebrate Theo Gruene — a man who spent his life preserving plants and avoiding change… until one rainy afternoon changed everything.

Maybe that’s what spring really is: evidence that quiet things are still growing.

Oh, Theo would not want the attention of a book birthday party. He wouldn’t have social media—no way!—but if he did, his posts would probably include:

• detailed weather observations;
• plant photos with Latin names;
• complaints about texting culture and how no one writes in cursive anymore;
• maybe a viral quote from Penelope

I am grateful to all the readers and book clubs that have selected The Third Act of Theo Gruene as their book of the month. And, I would especially like to thank those who not only read my book, but also took the time to post a review. By spreading the word on Amazon and Goodreads, you’ve help me gain new readers.

That’s no small feat.

Summer reading is almost here!

Click HERE to add Theo to your summer reading stack.

Thank you for celebrating this milestone with me.

And, thank you for being a good literary citizen!

Talya Tate Boerner
Grace Grits and Gardening
farm. food. garden. life.

The post Happy Birthday, Theo Gruene! first appeared on grace grits and gardening.

Hello, Sunday Letter readers!

In case you were wondering—no, I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. I’m still here, and I’m glad you are too. Lately, I’ve been busy in the garden and doing a little traveling. In between all that, I read and write. That’s pretty much my life these days, and honestly, I’m not complaining in the least.

Yes, I’m still plugging away on my next book. I hope to have a completed first draft by June 30. I’m a slow writer, partly because of all the aforementioned ways I like to spend my time, and partly because I tend to let a story unfold in its own sweet time. Have no fear—I’ll keep you updated on my progress along the way.

Central Library, Little Rock

On Friday, I taught a Phenology and Backyard Journaling session at the Arkansas Library Association’s InfoBits Conference. It was held at the fabulous Central Library in Little Rock—truly a wonderful place to spend a beautiful spring day.

A library is so much more than books. In fact, I challenge you to visit libraries wherever you travel and pay attention to their non-book offerings: the art and history displays, community bulletin boards, yoga classes, curated exhibits, quiet corners, and local treasures. Every library is a gem in its own way.

A few things that especially grabbed my attention were the display of David Paul Cook’s nature and landscape art, the original library columns, the stunning views from nearly every window, and a series of old photographs from The Butler Center for Arkansas Studies.

Old photographs fascinate me—especially photos of places tied to my own memories.

One image showed that the Osceola Furniture Store once sold coffins and caskets. Naturally, this sent me tumbling down a Google rabbit hole to learn the difference. It turns out caskets are rectangular, while coffins are six-sided (or sometimes eight-sided), wider at the shoulders and tapered at the head and feet—historically known as a “toe pincher.” Caskets are primarily used in the United States, while coffins remain more common in the United Kingdom.

Who knew? Certainly not me.

Our New Old Chairs!

Speaking of old things, I’m excited to tell you about our new old chairs.

This project has been a long time coming. About ten years ago, we purchased these wonderfully comfortable antique club chairs from French Metro Antiques here in Fayetteville. Nearly everything at French Metro has been imported from Paris, and our chairs date back to roughly the 1920s.

I like to imagine Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein sitting in them, smoking cigarettes and listening to jazz.

John and I always intended to have them recovered, but for years we struggled to find anyone willing to tackle the project. Time passed, as it tends to do, and the chairs slowly drifted to the bottom of the priority list. Finally, this year, we found a local upholstery company—Holmberg Upholstery—happy to take them on.

Rather than replace the worn brown leather with more leather, we chose a beautiful dark green chevron fabric instead.

Before:

I’m fairly certain guests wondered why we even kept them in the house. Horsehair and coconut-fiber stuffing poked out everywhere.

During:

While dismantling the chairs, the upholsterers discovered scraps of brightly colored fabric stuffed inside the cushions—probably added long ago for extra firmness. Even more surprising, they also found several well-preserved acorns tucked deep inside.

I’d like to think this wasn’t the work of one of our modern squirrels, but honestly, who knows?

Acorns were once considered emergency food during times of famine and scarcity, so perhaps someone tucked them away for safekeeping and simply forgot about them.

We may never know how those acorns ended up hidden inside the cushions, but I love that these old chairs carried their own small secrets through time.

The upholsterer also discovered French hairpins and the wrapper from a well-known French embroidery thread.

After:

Now they’re ready for the next hundred years.

If I Were a…

If I were a finch, I’d build my nest in the honeysuckle.

If I were a box turtle, I’d hide beneath the maple tree among the wild violets.

If I were a tree frog, I’d perch on the windowsill.

If I were a possum, I’d forage in the garden and live beneath the front porch.

If I were a skink, I’d make my home in the rock wall.

If I were a squirrel, I’d nap on the gatepost.

Or maybe I’d curl up in the viburnum and spy on my humans from above.

But since I’m just a humble human, I’ll simply be grateful to share this garden space with all of them—and say hello whenever we cross paths.

Just please… keep your acorns outside.

“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.” — Gary Snyder

(P.S. I saw all these critters within a two week period.)

Speaking of Nature

I highly recommend the latest Ken Burns documentary, Henry David Thoreau, now airing on PBS. It’s informative, beautiful, and deeply inspirational—and George Clooney provides the narration.

And this is an actual photograph of Walden Pond. I believe I could write a few words there.

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden or, Life in the Woods

Things Momma Says:

The one thing I can still do is hear pretty good.

***

That’s all for today, folks. I hope you found my ramblings illuminating—or at the very least, worth the few minutes it took to read them.

Talya Boerner
Grace Grits & Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

The post Sunday Letter~ 05.17.26 first appeared on grace grits and gardening.

Dear Sunday Letter readers:

The beginning of spring is such a wild time of year. It reminds me of the old wooden roller coaster—the Pippin—we loved to ride at the Mid-South Fair in Memphis. Thrilling and a little rickety, the whole thing trembling as we climbed higher and higher before plunging down—hair flying, stomachs dropping.

Within five days, our Fayetteville temperatures swung from 19 degrees to 90. Some of the tulips have simply given up, I think. Others are giving it everything they’ve got, and I admire the effort. It would be a shame to miss tulip season entirely.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best: Our life is March weather—savage and serene in one hour.

There’s so much truth in that.

Still Painting…

You might remember from my last Sunday Letter (02.22.26) that my husband and I decided to paint the interior of our house. We started the first week of February, and the finish line is… out there somewhere.

Not to brag, but we even figured out how to paint around the ceiling air vents and light fixture high above the stairs.

We’ve learned a few things about our house and ourselves:

• The white paint on the bathroom trim is not the same white used anywhere else.
• Painting around a ceiling vent on the second story above the stairwell requires both courage and creativity.
• Painting is significantly harder when you wear trifocals.

Still, we are getting there…

How to survive a near tornado.

Since my last letter, I’ve made a road trip to the farm, taught an all-day publishing class at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Educational Center, and met with a wonderful group of women in Lonoke to discuss The Third Act of Theo Gruene. What an honor.

Between events, my sister and I spent time at the Bat Cave. (If you need a Bat Cave refresher, click here.) As is typical for early spring in Mississippi County, we also spent several hours hunkered down while a storm raged around us. Around here, spring means a potential tornado or three. Preparation is everything.

That particular Sunday night, we took shelter in our tiny childhood bedroom with the following essentials: our iPhones, cookies, a chocolate bar, coats and purses, a bottle of wine, a half-eaten container of blackberries, a family-sized box of Wheat Thins, a jug of water, dental floss, and lip balm.

We briefly considered buying bicycle helmets at Walmart—just in case the roof caved in—but the thought of another trip to the Osceola Walmart convinced us to roll the dice.

As anyone in the South knows, where you hunker down matters. Our childhood bedroom—now nicknamed the Enchanted Room—is the safest spot in the house. Thanks to a 1970s addition, it has no windows or exterior walls. It’s filled with dolls, toys, and tea sets from our childhood and from our own children. I’m fairly certain those objects serve as protective charms. (Though in the wrong circumstances, they could become projectiles. No place is perfect.)

When the storm hit, the wind roared like a freight train.

The lights flickered twice and then went out. Our candles provided the perfect glow for our impromptu charcuterie and séance. (Haha, we did not have a séance, though it was discussed.)

An hour later, still without power, we debated the merits of relocating to the nearby Holiday Inn once the storm passed. The weatherman had warned of plunging temperatures, and we have reached the stage of life where we appreciate a little comfort.

So we waited.

The storm passed, as storms do.

Miraculously, the electricity returned just in time for the final minutes of the Oscars. The front door alarm panel began its ear-splitting beeping. The ceiling held firm above our helmet-less heads.

We’d survived another Mississippi County storm. Because sometimes, preparing for the worst keeps the worst at bay.

Robin’s Nest

I recently worked with my fellow Master Gardener friends at the Headquarters House, where we rediscovered a robin’s nest tucked into the clematis vines.

We knew it was there—we found it two years ago—but the robin had moved on, and the clematis needed a haircut.

A few things people may not realize about robin nests:

• They contain a distinct layer of mud, shaped by the female pressing it into place with her breast—almost like pottery.
• Robins often nest close to people—on porch lights, window ledges, and gutters.
• A single robin may raise two or even three broods in a season, building a new nest each time to avoid parasites and ensure structural integrity.
• Their signature blue eggs likely help parents quickly recognize their own clutch.

Birds are survivors when it comes to our violent spring weather. They sense changes in barometric pressure long before we do and take shelter—or simply fly somewhere safer. Oh so smart!

I saw a Bluebird!

I spotted a bluebird in our neighborhood yesterday, and that one small sighting made my whole week.

  I tried to convince him to follow me home, to visit our feeders. Maybe he’ll stop by today.

Things Momma Says:

My beauty shop is just around the corner. I could walk there—if I could walk.

***

Thanks for reading this new Sunday Letter.

Today is Palm Sunday, marking the beginning of Holy Week for many Christian traditions.

My wish for you is a peaceful week—during a season that feels anything but.

Spend time in nature. Read a good book. Talk to the birds. Turn off the news (but stay wisely informed).

Life is good—even when it storms.

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

The post Sunday Letter: 03.29.26 first appeared on grace grits and gardening.