A Weekly Visit of Tales, Tidings, and Old-Time Country Comfort

Welcome!

It’s been a lively week in Honey Hill Country.

Before we go any further, the editor is once again obliged to remind readers — especially the newer subscribers who have joined us during the recent festivities — that The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a work of cheerful fiction set in an entirely imaginary corner of the Ozarks. Any resemblance to actual towns, rabbits, roosters, or enthusiastic carrot-throwing contests is purely coincidental, though we admit the similarities can sometimes be striking.

And lively it has been.

What began a week ago as a curious little rabbit celebration — complete with horns, races, and the occasional carrot pie — has now grown into something approaching a full-scale countryside revelry. Carrozelas are being heard from town squares, farm lanes, and ridge roads from Round Corners to Butterfield, and the sound of horns echoing through the hollers has been joined by a chorus few expected.

The roosters have begun answering.

Farmers across the region report that each time a rabbit blows a Carrozela horn, at least one rooster somewhere nearby feels duty-bound to crow in reply. What began as a novelty has now grown into a sort of musical conversation between town and barnyard, with horns sounding in the streets and rooster calls rolling back across the hills.

The result is a countryside that wakes early.

If that were not enough excitement for one week, another unexpected development has taken hold of the festivities. What began as a simple encouragement shouted by Little Red Bear to hurry along a group of young racers has now become the unofficial motto of March Madness Days.

The phrase, repeated with great enthusiasm by children and rabbits alike, is heard everywhere from the game fields to the bakery steps:

“Hippity, hoppity — let’s go!”

And go they have.

From new games and contests to dancing in the streets, Honey Hill Country appears to have discovered that when rabbits decide to celebrate Spring, they do so with remarkable dedication.

The Gazette will attempt, as faithfully as possible, to keep up.

So, with that said  — Please come on in. Your paper awaits . . . . . . 

And would you prefer Coffee or Tea with your newspaper?

 

Continue reading →

A Weekly Visit of Tales, Tidings, and Old-Time Country Comfort

Welcome!

It’s been a noisy week in Honey Hill Country.

Not troublesome noise, mind you — nothing of the sort — but the cheerful kind that arrives when rabbits outnumber common sense and every available square foot of Butterfield seems determined to host a race, a cook-off, a judging table, or a parade that may or may not have been planned in advance. March Madness Days are now fully underway, and the countryside has answered with enthusiasm, energy, and an astonishing number of competitors who appear convinced that ribbons, bragging rights, and possibly pie are within reach if they simply run fast enough.

As always, The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a work of fiction set in a place that exists most clearly in the imagination — though from time to time it may resemble somewhere you have known. But for first time visitors, it may help to know where — and when — we are, and what I am talking about

The Hearth & Holler Gazette hails from Honey Hill Country, a small, rural corner of the Missouri Ozarks, as it might have been known in the year 1904 — a time of front porches and wagon roads, oil lamps and handwritten letters, when news traveled at a human pace, and a Saturday paper was meant to be read slowly, with coffee close at hand. This is not a paper of breaking news or loud headlines. It prefers instead to notice it — the small, human-sized moments that once filled a morning without asking much in return.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a work of fiction — a made-up paper from a made-up place, written in the spirit of an earlier time. Any resemblance to real towns, people, or events is entirely coincidental, though we do our best to make it feel otherwise.

This must be understood at the beginning — the towns, fields, and citizens described here exist only within these pages. With that firmly agreed, the small and ordinary wonders of the week may unfold as they will. That is the way of things here. That is all we need to know, and that ought to be enough.

With that firmly understood, we may proceed to the week’s news — which presently includes athletic contests, decorated burrows, culinary triumphs, minor athletic injuries, an unscheduled victory on Cedar Lane, and a new invention producing a sound that can now be heard echoing across several hollers at once.

Hold on to your top hat.

So, with that said  — Please come on in. Your paper awaits . . . . . . 

And would you prefer Coffee or Tea with your newspaper?

 

Continue reading →

A Weekly Visit of Tales, Tidings, and Old-Time Country Comfort

Welcome!

It is shaping up to be a lively week in Honey Hill Country, as March Madness Days begin in earnest and the Square fills once more with banners, brass, and bright expectation.

As always, The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a work of fiction set in a place that exists most clearly in the imagination — though from time to time it may resemble somewhere you have known. But for first time visitors, it may help to know where — and when — we are, and what I am talking about

The Hearth & Holler Gazette hails from Honey Hill Country, a small, rural corner of the Missouri Ozarks, as it might have been known in the year 1904 — a time of front porches and wagon roads, oil lamps and handwritten letters, when news traveled at a human pace,  where animals and humans interact and live side-by-side, and a Saturday paper was meant to be read slowly, with coffee close at hand. This is not a paper of breaking news or loud headlines. It prefers instead to notice it — the small, human-sized moments that once filled a morning without asking much in return.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a work of fiction — a made-up paper from a made-up place, written in the spirit of an earlier time. Any resemblance to real towns, people, or events is entirely coincidental, though we do our best to make it feel otherwise.

This must be understood at the beginning — the towns, fields, and citizens described here exist only within these pages. With that firmly agreed, the small and ordinary wonders of the week may unfold as they will. That is the way of things here. That is all we need to know, and that ought to be enough.

With that understood, come along — the Square is lively, the rabbits are ready, and there is a place waiting along the rail.

And would you prefer Coffee or Tea with your newspaper?

 

 

 

 

 

Continue reading →