Apr 292014
 

Fern Shadow

I am still reeling from the tragic news, just one week ago, that Fern’s Market in the Grange at Serenbe, in Chattahoochee Hills, Georgia, will be closing on May 10th.  Fern’s has been such a haven for me, a welcoming home on days when I just needed to get away from the stress of my home office or craved an hour or two of conversation with others after days in a row spent entirely online.

The shelves are mostly bare now, but you can still get a marvelous latte there, in a huge mug, prepared with care and, depending upon the barrista, topped with either a fern, an Easter bunny, or something that looks a bit like a poached egg.  The person behind the counter — Tammi Berden Cody or one of her charming and kind employees — will always offer it with a smile and will check in a few minutes later to make sure it is OK.  There is such care in the store, such love.  The loss to Serenbe and Chattahoochee Hills is immeasurable.  We will never know what circumstances led to the abrupt and tragic announcement of Fern’s closing last week.  But I know that Fern’s embodied the highest potential that Serenbe offers, as a place that embraced sustainability and local foods while also creating an environment welcoming to all, from tourists and Serenbe residents to construction workers and “Surroundbes” from greater Chattahoochee Hills and beyond.

Fern’s opened back in June of 2012, just half a year after my Dad’s unexpected passing.  For months, I had been struggling to come to terms with my loss.  I felt adrift, displaced.  The anchor of my childhood and my closest friend and mentor was gone.  I felt uprooted, and I thought seriously about moving on.  It was in the midst of the struggle that I learned that a new food market was opening in the Grange.  I recall my first visit.  I said hi to the smiling person behind the counter, bought a couple of items, and received a free flyswatter.  (I have never used it for its intended purpose, but I have used it a few times to look up Fern’s number, to call to see if a particular product was in stock).  Soon after the opening, I started dropping by Fern’s for coffee and a couple of hours with a book or online task.  The employees were so eager to talk, so glad I had dropped by.  I did not feel “different” for not living in Serenbe, or less worthy for being in a financially precarious place and thus unable to purchase all that I would have liked.  Fern’s Market included some high-end gourmet items (ones that, when I did sample them, always lived up to their cost).  But there were also plenty of staples, priced quite reasonably for everyone.  And Tammi was constantly giving things away, too.  Several times I was given free coffee for one reason or another; on my birthday, I received a free King of Pops bar.  Eventually, I would even win a “guess the number of King of Pops sold” contest (my guess was off by a mile) and be given ten King of Pops bars and a cool red cooler bag for carrying them home.

But what Fern’s most gave me is without price.  Tammi and her loving staff gave me a sense of home.  And I am still here today, walking the byways of Chattahoochee Hills and sharing the wonders of the everyday Georgia rural landscape with others, in part because of Fern’s.  Again, I am struggling to come to terms with my loss.

Apr 132014
 

I arrived early to Piney Woods Church Road, perhaps an hour after sunrise, before delivering a presentation on the Piney Woods Church Road Project to a Sunday interfaith group at Serenbe community here in Chattahoochee Hills.  Along the verge near the intersection with Hutcheson Ferry Road, I glimpsed an unfamiliar pale-yellow wildflower with four petals.  The petals were somewhat folded up; I assumed at the time that they were just opening.  In fact, after an hour of scouring the field guides and internet, the flower turned out to be a cutleaf evening primrose (Oenothera laciniata), an early-blooming member of its genus that is common to waste places throughout the eastern United States.  As the name suggests, its flower close during the day, opening fully only in the dark of night.  Had I arrived at the roadside later in the day, I would have likely overlooked the closed flower altogether.  Although some might consider it merely a weed, for me it was a gift of those early morning hours.

Evening Primrose