Alabama Weekend

Essay

Miss Nelle’s Secret Revealed

Intensely Private Woman Loves Po’ Boys

‘It ain't gonna fight being et.’

In the summer of 2009, I was hired by a studio out of Mobile, Alabama to play piano on a couple country albums for these two brothers, Micky and Dickie as I recall. Though the booking was originally only supposed to be for one day, it ended up taking three due to those fellas’ odd dietary habits. Apparently, they were prone to taking a little bourbon with their breakfast before a liquid lunch, supplementing that with steady pulls from matching LSU flasks they kept in their ostrich skin boots. The brothers’ habits meant that we basically had to knock off around 11 each morning and find some other way to occupy our time. So I spent that first afternoon on the bay, eating fresh gulf shrimp and touring the USS Alabama. By the time I had finished taking stock of this illustrious naval monument, it was time for supper. My self-imposed rule when traveling is to steer clear of any food I can get at home. Since the Gulf Coast is a great source of seafood, I drove the short distance over to …

Field Notes

Boundaries

Nature is fluid in nearly every expression

There is nitrogen from the ocean in the trees

Where do I stop, and you begin?

By Heather Heying

Walk along a ridgeline in summer, and waves of heat contort your view. Distant trees shimmer in the hot air separating you and them. High overhead, a hawk rides the thermals. Below, a silvery strand winds through the valley, large lazy curves of water that have found the path that is easiest, for now. It is hot out here, exposed. Your feet catch on the uneven ground, and you kick up dust. A rock slides out from under your shoe and bounces down, down. Your feet carry you onwards. You pay good enough attention to them, but more so to the trees, and the river, and the hawks. The longer you walk, the more attention you pay to the thoughts in your own head. In reverie, you soon realize that you are cool for the first time in a while. You are not on the ridge anymore, but in its shadow, indeed, in the valley. The stark horizon is gone, as are the waves of heat, replaced with a softness, trees muffling noise all around you. Needles are underfoot now, rather than dust. When did ridge become …

Alabama Weekend

Agricultural Digest

Boundaries