Lisa Kelley

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Recent Stories

Slow words

Dear Johns, Dear Darlings, thank yous for ugly sweaters

Subscriber onlyI'm fond of the written word. Well, most written words. I'm not terribly fond of utility bills, insurance papers or the 85-page manual in 6-point font that comes with a toaster. But words -- in one form or another -- narrate our lives. Continue reading...

Porch-sittin' meteorology

Crickets, hedgehogs, poorly sighted spirits

Subscriber onlyBeing the only child present at most family gatherings, I'd be found either toting various animals around the homestead or sitting in the kitchen or on the porch, listening to adults 30 to 60 years my senior. I learned early on that farmers and country folk are uniquely tied to nature. As I sat snapping beans into an enamelware bowl with my great-grandmother, she'd explain how the world around me would tell me all sorts of things if I'd just listen. Continue reading...

The lyes we tell ourselves

Retaining lost skills grandparents knew

Subscriber onlyOn darkly stained oak shelves in my office, there rests a set of red Britannica Junior encyclopedias, copyrighted 1976. My mama was proud of these books she purchased for me. Her family moved so often during her childhood that she missed many subjects her new class had already covered, and she never graduated. When she had me, she was determined to stay put, so I could attend kindergarten through 12th grade in one place and learn things she never had. Continue reading...

New Year's luck left in South by Yankees

New Year’s luck left in South by Yankees

Subscriber onlyI've long been told that -- much to my mother's chagrin -- my first word was not "mama." It wasn't "papa" or "grammy" or "pawpaw" either. It wasn't even "pup," which would have made good sense considering I had a dog or three in tow soon after emerging from the womb. I was told my first recognizable utterance failed to bestow any loving label on a single living thing around me. Instead, my first word was "no" followed closely by "why." Continue reading...

A farm visit from St. Nick

Santa’s breath of fresh air

Subscriber onlyA Farm Visit from St. Nick Continue reading...

'McNeely' brings rare blizzard to Arkansas

‘McNeely’ brings rare blizzard to Arkansas

Subscriber only"Smell that?" I remember being asked as a child. "Rain's a'comin'." Continue reading...

Fourth Thursday in November

On SEC football 11th commandment Southern dressing

Subscriber onlyThere are some things in this life that ought not to change from year to year, lest you mess with the course of human events and the trajectory of planetary alignments. And one of those things is Thanksgiving Day. Continue reading...

The glory of cured meats

And the agony of culinary defeat

Subscriber onlyIt all started innocently enough. I simply wanted some bacon. Continue reading...

Where possible lives

And it’s not where we thought

Subscriber onlyMy summers as a kid were spent at my grandmother's package store between Fagus, Mo., and a very dry Clay County, Ark. Now, for those souls who don't know, a "package" store is simply a nice way of saying "liquor" store, as folks would carry off plain brown paper bags concealing their beverages of choice. Continue reading...

Initial shots of Southern Belles

Initial shots of Southern Belles

Subscriber only"We should save that for Lisa," Aunt Kay declared as she sorted my grandmother's belongings. "And that, and that -- my lands, Mom Baker had monograms on nearly everything!" Continue reading...

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