Honey Hill Country

The Hearth & Holler Gazette — Issue No. 1

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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 . . . . . . 

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Something New Is on the Way

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An invitation, quietly extended.

Over the past several weeks, I have mentioned a new project taking shape just over the hill — something written carefully, assembled slowly, and meant to be read at ease.

With the first issue now nearly ready to be set before you, it felt right to let the editor speak for herself.

🖋 A Note from Clara Thimblewick, Editor

For some time now, a small staff has been at work — gathering items of interest, setting type, sharing a pot of coffee, and preparing a paper meant to be read slowly and kept close at hand.

We have taken care to make it worthy of your time.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette was created for readers who still find pleasure in neighborly news, in small observations, and in stories that do not hurry you along.

It is not meant to be exhaustive.
It is not meant to be loud.
It is meant to feel familiar.

If you care to join us, we would be glad to have you.

The first issue will be set before you this Saturday.

— Clara Thimblewick, Editor

Before we close, one small thing for clarity.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a make-believe newspaper from a make-believe place in Little Red Bear’s Honey Hill Country, staffed by characters who do not exist anywhere outside these pages.

The things they practice, however, most certainly do.

Kindness.
Compassion.
Looking out for one another.
Stopping long enough to notice.

Those are as real as it gets — and what it is all about.

If this sounds like something you might enjoy, the first issue will be waiting for you this Saturday.

We hope you will join us.

— 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.

Why Small Stories Last

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Why the Little Things Stay With Us

Small stories. Small moments. Small actions that reverberate through the years, often in ways we never fully realise at the time.

My own writing life — if one can call it that — began in the fourth grade, with a teacher named Mrs. Drew. I do not recall her first name, if I ever knew it at all. Back then, adults were simply Mr., Mrs., or Miss, and that seemed sufficient. (You need not bother doing the arithmetic — I am seventy-six.)

One afternoon near the end of the school day, Mrs. Drew propped a landscape painting against the blackboard for all of us to see. Our assignment was simple enough — write a short story inspired by the scene in the painting. It showed a family in a wagon, travelling along a dirt road that wound through woods and farmland, headed somewhere beyond the frame.

We began writing in class and were sent home to finish. A few days later, Mrs. Drew returned our papers, handing them back one by one. All except mine. Mine, she kept.

When she finally explained why, it was because she intended to read it aloud to the class. And when I eventually received it back, there at the top of the page were words I have never forgotten:

“A++      Jim — You will be a writer someday.”

I was painfully shy at the time. I did not know what to do with such encouragement. But I carried it with me — quietly, steadily — for the rest of my life.

There are moments like that — small at the time, almost unnoticed — that stay with us long after louder things have passed. They do not announce themselves. They do not demand attention. And yet, years later, they are often the ones we remember most clearly.

Perhaps it is because they arrive without agenda. Or because they involve people rather than events. Or because they ask nothing of us except that we notice.

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Something New Is Nearly Ready

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One more chat before the porch light comes on.

There is a particular kind of anticipation that comes just before something good arrives.

Not the hurried sort.
Not the loud sort.
But the steady, warm kind — like setting an extra cup on the table because you know someone will soon be coming by.

That is where we are today.

Next Saturday — January 24 — The Hearth & Holler Gazette will make its first appearance here on The Writing Pages! And before it does, this felt like the right moment to pause, take a breath, and talk plainly about what it is, who it is for, and just as importantly, what it is not.

What’s Nearly Ready

At its heart, The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a weekly Saturday morning visit.

A small-town paper from a gentler place and time — filled with short pieces meant to be read slowly, smiled over, and enjoyed with a warm cup of coffee or tea for a moment before moving on with your day.

The Hearth & Holler Gazette is a fictional paper, created for enjoyment and relaxation, drawn from the characters and places of Little Red Bear’s Honey Hill Country.

Each issue will include familiar sections you can come to expect:

— lighthearted community tidings
— gentle humor and country chuckles
— a heartwarming piece from the Heart of the Holler
— and a closing reflection meant to leave you steadier than when you arrived

Nothing long.
Nothing demanding.
Just enough to feel like we passed a little time together.

Who It’s For

This Gazette is for readers who enjoy:

— quiet, comforting storytelling
— old-fashioned newspaper charm
— a sense of place and neighborliness
— kindness without preaching
— imagination without noise

It is for those who like to read with a moment, not race through one.

And What It Is Not

It is not a newsletter competing for attention.
It is not a commitment you must keep up with.
It is not something being sold to you, nor another thing to keep track of.

There are no subscriptions to purchase.
No ads or promotions to navigate.
No extras you must chase down.
No pressure to do anything at all.

If a week comes when you read it — wonderful.
If a week comes when you do not — it will be there when you return.

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Porch Notes From Little Red Bear

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Hey, folks —

Jim is up to his ears with work on the Gazette right now, so asked me to fill in for him today. And I’ve got a few minutes so thought – “Sure. Why not?” Hope you don’t mind.

Farmer Turner dropped by earlier for no particular reason. That’s what folks do around these parts. Stopping by to visit. Just bein’ neighborly, is all.

As usual, we got to talkin’ about the weather. Lately it’s been like riding a seesaw. We seem to go from way above normal one day to way below normal the next. We set a record for both a record all-time high temperature and another record 62-degree temperature drop all in the same day last week. From 80F to 18F. I started the morning in my overalls and ended up wearing three different coats by the end of the day, each one heavier than the one before. I hear the birds down south are flyin’ in circles, not knowing whether to migrate back up north or stay put where they are. They can’t figure it out either, it seems.

Anyway, that’s what Farmer Turner and I were talking about — the weather. I will say, if ever you feel like talking about the weather with someone, just go find yourself a farmer. Farmers love talking about the weather. For them, it’s not just small talk, of course. It’s an important discussion about crop yields, planting schedules, and their very survival. Weather determines a farmer’s livelihood, after all.

Well, I see Aunt Ivy coming up the way, probably coming to trade some cookies for some of the fresh herbs we still have growin’ alongside the cabin. So, I’ll be going now. She may need my help gettin’ to some of the herbs. That, and I don’t want Jim spottin’ her coming and dashin’ out the door to beat me to any fresh cookies.

‘Til next time then.

— Little Red Bear (and Jim!)

If you’d like to spend a little more time in Little Red Bear’s world, Jim has gathered some of the stories and books together on his Author’s Page. You’re always welcome to stop by.

Reflection and Renewal — Gently Finding Our Way Into the New Year

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A gentle welcome for the year ahead — and an unhurried way to begin again.

January has a way of arriving with instructions already written for us, doesn’t it?
Begin again. Improve. Fix. Hurry.

But some years ask for something different.

Some years do not need to be conquered at all — only entered. And once inside, listened to. The quieter truths tend to reveal themselves that way, without ceremony or noise.

Here, reflection is not a reckoning, and renewal is not a contest to be won or lost.
What if it never needed to be?

Instead, it can be something simpler — an ongoing process of noticing what still matters, what has endured, and what might simply need a little tending rather than replacing.

If you have arrived here tired, or curious, or simply passing through, you are in good company. And welcome here.

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