Cozy Reading

The Hearth & Holler Gazette — Issue No. 4

/ jrmilson / 2 Comments

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

Welcome!

It has been a mud bound week in Honey Hill Country. Another marked by delays, detours, growing shortages of everyday staples, and the steady work of getting on with things anyway.

Regular readers may recall that last week we introduced period-style illustrations, offering a visual record of events alongside the printed words of selected stories. This week, we take another big step forward — introducing our new staff editorial cartoonist, Clarence “Clary” Moss. Clary will be introducing his first editorial cartoon in the pages of the Gazette today, and will be a featured weekly contributor going forward.

But before we go any further, 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.

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

And would you prefer Coffee or Tea with your newspaper?

 

Continue reading →

A Short List of Things That Are Still Just Plain Good

/ jrmilson / Leave a comment

There are days when the world feels a little too loud and a little too busy explaining itself.

On those days, it helps to remember that not everything needs fixing, debating, improving, or shouting about. Some things are already doing their job just fine. They have been for a long time. They simply carry on, quietly, without asking for applause.

So here — for no particular reason other than it felt like a good moment — is a short list of things that are still just plain good.

Not perfect.
Not flashy.
Just . . . . good.

A fresh cup of coffee that tastes exactly the way you hoped it would.
Not better than expected. Not worse. Just right. The kind that lets you take a slow sip and think . . . . “Yes. That’ll do.”

A handwritten note.
Even a short one. Even a crooked one. The kind where you can tell the writer paused for a moment before finishing the sentence.

A dog asleep in the sun.
No ambition. No agenda. Just fully committed to a relaxing nap in the afternoon.

A cat choosing to sit near you.
Not because it was asked. Because it decided. Which somehow makes it feel like a small honour.

A well-worn book that falls open to a favourite page.
Like it remembers where you left off last time — and waited there for you.

The sound of someone laughing in the next room.
Especially when you do not know the joke, and it does not matter.

The sound of children laughing and playing.
Inside or outside. Close by or down the street. It always reminds us that things are going right somewhere.

A front porch — or whatever serves as one.
A chair by a window counts. So does a stoop. A step. Or the edge of a bed where you linger for a moment longer than planned.

Kindness that does not announce itself.
No trumpet. No explanation. Just a small adjustment or touch made for someone else’s comfort.

Old sayings that still manage to be true.
The kind you used to roll your eyes at — until one day you catch yourself repeating them.

Something that works the way it always has.
A lamp. A watch. A sunrise. There is a quiet relief in reliability, and in knowing some things still arrive on time..

And for me, a rainy afternoon with a new story waiting to be told.
Nothing urgent. Nothing polished yet. Just the promise of words finding their way.

But then again . . . . the feeling that today does not need to be extraordinary to be worthwhile.
Ordinary will do just fine.

None of these things will trend.
None of them will fix everything.

But taken together, they do something better.

They remind us that simple goodness has not gone anywhere. It has simply stayed where it always was — in familiar places, doing familiar work, waiting to be noticed again.

And perhaps that is just plain good enough for today, isn’t it?

What might you add to the list?

‘Til next time, then — Jim  (and Red!)

P.S.
Little Red Bear read this list over my shoulder and cleared his throat — politely — to point out that tea belongs on any list of good things worth keeping close.
He is not wrong. We are, after all, tea people.

“The Adventures of Little Red Bear: The First Holler!”

These illustrations were created with the assistance of AI.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette — Issue No. 3

/ jrmilson / 2 Comments

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

Welcome!

It has been a snowbound week in Honey Hill Country — one marked by delays, detours, and the steady work of getting on with things as best they could be managed.

But this week also marks a small but meaningful change for the The Hearth & Holler Gazette — one that has me genuinely excited about where the paper is heading. From time to time, select stories will now be accompanied by period-style illustrations, offering a visual record of events alongside the printed word. These images are meant to be read as much as seen — another way of noticing what has happened around us and remembering it clearly.

These illustrations are being prepared carefully, with focused attention to the Ozarks setting of Little Red Bear’s stories and the 1904 period the Gazette inhabits. They are intentionally restrained, observational, and rooted in the visual language of the time — not modern embellishments, but echoes of how stories were once quietly shown as well as told before the use of photography became commonplace.

But before we go any further, for first time visitors, it may help to know where — and when — we are, and what I am talking about

The 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.

What follows reflects the shape of these past days: trains slowed and roads altered, plans postponed and routines adjusted. It also holds the smaller things that traveled just as surely through the cold — a door opened, a shovel shared, a joke passed along to lighten the work. Taken together, they tell the story of a week that tested patience, rewarded cooperation, and reminded us that even when progress is measured in careful steps, it is still progress all the same.

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

 

Continue reading →

The Hearth & Holler Gazette — Issue No. 2

/ jrmilson / Leave a comment

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

Welcome!

It’s been a cold and storm-bound week in Honey Hill Country.

But before we go any further, for first time visitors, it may help to know where — and when — we are.

The 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 past week brought heavy snow and sharp cold across much of the region, drawing neighbors closer to home and closer to one another. What follows reflects that — stories of preparation, patience, quiet help, and the small moments that tend to reveal themselves most clearly when the world slows under winter’s hand.

So, with that said  — Please come on in . . . . . . 

Continue reading →

The Hearth & Holler Gazette — Issue No. 1

/ jrmilson / 8 Comments

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

Welcome!

What follows is the first issue of The Hearth & Holler Gazette — a weekly, fictional newspaper set down for no purpose more urgent than keeping you company for a little while.

Before we begin, it may help to know where — and when — you are.

The 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.

Everything within these pages is make-believe — imagined people, places, notices, and happenings — shaped for storytelling and offered in the spirit of old-time country papers. This is not a paper of breaking news or loud headlines. It does not chase the day. It prefers instead to notice it — kitchens and workshops, hillsides and quiet corners — the small, human-sized moments that once filled a morning without asking much in return.

You are welcome to read straight through, skip about, or linger where something catches your eye. The Gazette will arrive once a week, on Saturday mornings, the way a friendly visit used to — not to hurry you, but to sit a spell and share what has been noticed.

We hope you enjoy this first visit, and that you will come back again.
The kettle will be on.

So, with that said  — Please come on in . . . . . . 

Continue reading →

Fresh Ink & Hot Coffee — Tomorrow, It Begins

/ jrmilson / Leave a comment

A quiet word before Saturday morning arrives  . . . .

The press is warming, the quill has been freshly dipped, and in this neck of the woods the air smells faintly of biscuits and printer’s ink.

By lamplight, Little Red Bear is checking the final lines, pages stacked neat and waiting. Rusty and Percy are chasing down the last good headline, and somewhere nearby a kettle is whistling — the patient kind that knows its moment is almost here.

The very first issue of The Hearth & Holler Gazette is ready to roll — full of neighbourly news, small-town happenings, a little laughter, and a bit of country comfort to carry with you.

Tomorrow is the day.
The Gazette arrives.
Are you ready?

— Jim  (and Red!

A small note for new readers:
Receiving The Hearth & Holler Gazette is as simple as being registered for this blog. There is nothing more to do.