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Julie Cantrell Biography

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“Maybe God doesn't care if we get all dressed up and sit in the pew every Sunday, as Diana believes. Instead, maybe God comes to us through men like Sloth, watching over us as we make our own decisions. Maybe God has always been with me. Opening doors, leading me to opportunities, letting me choose my own path, and loving me even when I chose the wrong one. Never giving up on me. Knowing all along that I am on a journey. That I must find my own way to Him. Maybe River was rights. Maybe God does still believe in me.”

Inspirational Quotes
Book:Into the Free
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“I used to think the garden of Eden story was all about Eve breaking the rules and eating the forbidden fruit. Church lessons taught us that her selfishness and deception resulted in great suffering for every generation to follow. That's the guilt we have been taught to carry as women. The serpent tricks us, and it's all our fault. Others are harmed by our naive choice, and it's all our fault. Our children stray from the right path, and it's all our fault. Truth is, the dangers were here from the start. But so was the beauty. Now I realize the story is not about punishing all of humankind for Eve's mistake. It's about relationship. It's about gratitude and honesty and choosing the right person to be by your side in life. It's about trust and partnership and loyalty. It's about love. Now, as the garden comes to life around me, I no longer think of serpents and betrayals and lies and shame. Instead, I see what God sees. I see that it is good. All of it. Good.”

WomenHard LifeGarden Of EdenGoodness In Life
Book:Perennials
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“I've stayed here in Oxford as the seasons have changed, watching summer turn to autumn turn to winter turn to spring. And in the coming cycle, I will be here once more. Season after season, year after year, as crocuses make way for summer honeysuckle, as sun-loving lantana ease out for the quieter mums, as pansies blanket the wintry town and as spring beauties burst forth again behind the snow. I'll still be here with Fisher by my side. Because this spring the stars aligned, as Marian promised they would. I picked a mid-March spray of spirea, made myself a bridal bouquet, and gave my whole heart to the man whose heart was given whole to me.”

True LoveFlowersNatures BeautySeasons ChangingExchanging Vows
Book:Perennials
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“I always hoped you'd outgrow the whole sibling-rivalry thing. Whatever it is that keeps you at each other's throats, I wish you'd both just let it go." "In all honesty, Mother, an apology would do wonders, but Bitsy has never apologized for anything in her entire life." She pauses, weighing her words. "People don't always say they're sorry, Lovey. You have to find a way to move on without it." Mother begins to make my bed, and I hurry to help. "Kind of hard to let something go when it's still happening." She draws her lips into a tight frown, as if I'm the greatest disappointment of her life. "You think you're the only one who has ever been hurt?" She snaps the pillow to fluff it in its case, clearly convinced her own pain far exceeds my own. "That's not what I'm saying." I place three pillow shams. She resets them. "Of course I'm not the only one who has ever been hurt. But it's a little different when you're betrayed by someone you love, and even worse when she does it on purpose. You don't know how that feels.”

BetrayalSisters Sibling Rivalry
Book:Perennials
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“Reed is nothing like these men. Never was. Instead, he is a master of disguise. A man so broken, his form shifts completely based on the angle of the light that meets him. He's like the cleome that bloom here in Mother's garden, changing from dark pink at night to pale come morning, then to white again before the bloom falls. Or the heirloom petunias. Or the Confederate rose. Never know what we might find when we visit them. Fickle flowers, they behave as if they've forgotten who they really are, always hiding, fooling us by showing only what they want us to see. I now understand there have always been men like Reed in the world. A Judas. A wounded soul who causes tremendous harm for his own gain.”

Fake PeopleJudasWounded SoulsCon Man
Book:Perennials
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“You always want to blame the person who gets hurt instead of the one who does the hurting. I guess that means you think I knew you when you were hooking up with Harland Henson behind my back?" I let this long-held secret come tumbling out, one of many wounds Bitsy delivered during childhood. "My first boyfriend stolen by my only sister. How much more Jerry Springer does it get? You'd have taken Fisher too, if he had let you. I know all about how you tried to kiss him while I was getting dressed for prom.”

Hot TakesSisters Sibling RivalryTruth Bomb
Book:Perennials
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“Bitsy seems unimpressed, even when I describe the big campaign. "You sound like Whitman," she says, slow and monotone. "Work, work, work." I don't react. Instead, I reply by asking about her husband, Whitman Strayer II, a med-school dropout turned venture capitalist who now helps Oxford's elite decide what to do with all their money. "He's fine." She adds nothing more. "Still traveling a lot? Last I heard he was partnering with investors in Atlanta? Birmingham? Dallas? Looking for start-ups." "Yep. As I said, he's fine." She gives me a glance that warns me to back off, so I turn my attention back to the landscape, eager to drink in every gift Mississippi offers. Behind the picnic table, a batch of invasive kudzu has crept in from a steep ravine. With no natural balance to keep it in check, the Asian species now abuses its power, growing thick, leafy webs across everything in reach. Even the trees with the deepest roots have fallen victim to this vicious vine. As Bitsy's words echo, I wonder what lesson the kudzu wants to teach me. Have I, too, done better in foreign soil, opting to go far from the challenging conditions of home? Have I been able to thrive out there in Arizona, living without any real competition? Or am I nothing more than a wayward transplant, an aimless seed taking more than my fair share?”

Sisters Sibling RivalryKudzuTransplant
Book:Perennials
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“During the meal I consume every last bite of my shrimp and grits, relishing the uniquely Southern combinations: tart lemon juice, savory scallions, crisp bacon, and a dash of paprika all mixed in with freshly grated Parmesan and creamy white cheddar. It's been tossed with sautéed wild mushrooms and minced garlic, cayenne pepper, and Gulf shrimp, all atop a bowl of steaming Mississippi Delta stone-cut grits. My belly sings a psalm of thanks with every flavor-punched drop, and that doesn't even count the homemade biscuits baked big as fists and the silver-dollar pickles fried deep with salt. Drown it all together with a swig of syrup-sweet tea, and the name of this country song would be "Welcome Home.”

SeasoningsPicklesSouthern FoodWelcome HomeGrits
Book:Perennials
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“Next, I add a layer of Queen Anne's lace, its white clusters representative of the bridal veil worn by Mother and Bitsy, never by me. I can hear Mother's voice, teaching me that the flower is considered a weed by many, but she added it to her wildflower garden intentionally. She claims it has "a rebel heart, its snowflake appearance proof it was never meant to be a summer bloom at all." With its dark-purple center, this renegade flower represents all things feminine: delicate lace, the symbolic purity of snow, the red stain of suffering, and the long, deep taproot that keeps her growing against all odds.”

FlowerSymbolicTough GirlQueen Annes Lace
Book:Perennials
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“What if I had made different choices from the start? What if I had stuck around to watch another year of seasons spin here in Oxford, staying to see the daffodils bloom or to wander beneath the privet tunnel hand in hand with Fisher? What if we had kept right on kissing until the naked ladies emerged near the Osage orange? What if I had lingered long enough to see cape jasmine arrive, her voluptuous white bundles an aromatic call for summer love? Or even longer, when the spider lilies burst open in the fall and the yellow autumn light fell low among missy roots? What if I had stayed through winter, forming snow angels with my lover beneath the icy cedar boughs? What if I had not let fear defeat me after Fisher knelt before me in my mother's backyard garden, ring in his hand and happy-ever-after in his heart?”

SeasonsFlowersThe PastNatures BeautyWhat IfsChildhood Love
Book:Perennials
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“What if I had made different choices from the start? What if I had stuck around to watch another year of seasons spin here in Oxford, staying to see the daffodils bloom or to wander beneath the privet tunnel hand in hand with Fisher? What if we had kept right on kissing until the naked ladies emerged near the Osage orange? What if I had lingered long enough to see cape jasmine arrive, her voluptuous white bundles an aromatic call for summer love? Or even longer, when the spider lilies burst open in the fall and the yellow autumn light fell low among mossy roots? What if I had stayed through winter, forming snow angels with my lover beneath the icy cedar boughs? What if I had not let fear defeat me after Fisher knelt before me in my mother's backyard garden, ring in his hand and happy-ever-after in his heart?”

SeasonsFlowersNatures BeautyWhat IfsChildhood Love
Book:Perennials
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“Thanks to greenhouse transplants, we spent the afternoon harvesting a basket of tender yellow squash and zucchini---the first of the season. Roasted with hand-pressed olive oil, the fresh produce serves as an early supper, dished with homegrown herbs and a piping-hot bowl of fettuccine. For dessert, Mother's peach pie, baked from preserves and balanced with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream, all drizzled with a warm, dark loop of honey tapped straight from my father's hives.”

SouthernGardeningHarvestingFresh ProducePeach Pie
Book:Perennials
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“I read a quote from Absalom, Absalom! It's a reference to some of the plants that have already lost their blooms: "...and you said North Mississippi is a little harder country than Louisiana, with dogwood and violets and the early scentless flowers, but the earth and the nights still a little cold and the hard, tight sticky buds... on Judas trees and beech and maple...you find that you have been wanting that pretty hard for some time..." In his story Faulkner may have been suggesting a lustful want for the maiden Judith Sutpen, but I take it another direction. As hard as Mississippi can be, I realize now I have indeed been wanting that pretty hard for some time. If only I had known to avoid the wisteria. Instead, I said no when I should have said yes; said yes when I should have said no---and that mistake has nearly choked the life from me.”

ReferenceFaulknerAbsalom AbsalomYearning Of The Heart
Book:Perennials
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“Oh, dear child. You've got a lot to learn about marriage. Any food can choose the boy who send her heart into a flurry. But there's a big deep divide between desire and devotion. You better not choose the boy who makes you dizzy. No ma'am. You have to choose the one who is steady. Stable. Safe. Choose the one who loves you, through and through, for who you really are. The one who wouldn't change a single thing about you even if he could.”

LoveMarriage
Book:Into the Free
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