Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig. I’m back home after spending five days with Momma and my sister, Staci, at home-home in Mississippi County, Arkansas. (I’ve said this before, but home-home is where I’m from, and home [singular] is where I live now.)
When we were kids, Momma always said, “Home again, home again, jiggety jig,” every time we pulling into the carport. After a trip to the lake. After a trip to Big Star. After a trip anywhere.
You remember that nursery rhyme, don’t you? There are lots of versions. The jingle has been quoted in many television shows, movies, and books. (Stephen King, I’m looking at you and It.)
The version I know:
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Home again, home again, market is done.
(Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes)
Now I say it. Not always, but sometimes. Because I’ve turned into Momma.
Anyway. Five days with Momma and Staci was the best sort of fun. I did do some book editing in the mornings. Afternoons were reserved for laughing, eating lunch, and going through closets (I swear each closet and drawer is a trip back to elementary school or junior high). Staci and I picked up pecans, too. Three big bags during thirty mile an hour winds (or so it felt). We have six trees around the house, and this is the year of the pecan.
I’ve never had to buy pecans in my life. That’s a huge farm girl perk.
I didn’t take many pictures while at home because the weather was frightful. Drizzle. Crazy wind. Fog.
Yesterday, I drove back to Fayetteville. As soon as I turned onto 49 and headed to the Hill (the last stretch of my drive to Fayetteville for those who don’t know), the sun came out to welcome me home. In five days, the trees on our street are even brighter yellow, brighter orange, brighter autumn.
This morning, this is the view from our sleeping porch. The trees. Be still my heart.
Home again, home again, jiggety jig!
There’s another beautiful day in the works.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
James Taylor, Oh, What a Beautiful Morning