The Promise of Pecans
COWETA TO ME
Written by FAITH FARRELL
Originally from Minnesota, Faith Farrell is somewhat new to Newnan where she designs sets and acts with the Newnan Theatre Company. She also spends time at Backstreet Arts and is currently writing a play (featuring larger than life puppets and hopefully a ukulele band) called “The Lonely Carnie.” She sometimes paints for movie and TV sets. Check out her art on Instagram: @faithfarrellart.
My love affair with Newnan began as a surprise in 2011. I was living in Minnesota at the time, battling a broken snowblower plus a broken heart. I was a scenic painter for films and TV, and Minnesota wasn’t particularly known for its lineup of movie shoots. One lucky day, I got a call to work on the film “Lawless,” based off the book “The Wettest County in the World,” and it was to be filmed in Georgia with the bulk done in Coweta County. The studio was to be in Newnan, which I pronounced “Newman.”
I frantically started packing, wondering about the unknowns, especially the weather – because I'm from Minnesota and Minnesotans are constantly concerned about the weather. Making movies in Minnesota in winter requires thermal underwear (doubled for warmth), wool socks (doubled for warmth), gloves with mittens, giant boots that astronauts would approve of, and a good hat with ear flaps. I packed it all, along with an ice scraper and jumper cables (because a gal can never be too prepared). With suitcases packed for the Arctic, I was headed for Newnan, nerves on edge and excitement abounding.
When I visit someplace shiny and new, I tend to fantasize (as I’m sure most folks do) about what it would be like to live there: hunting out the hidden nuggets of neighborhoods; scouring for secrets only the locals know, the promise of guaranteed adventure. We fantasize and explore, but do we actually take the plunge? Do we upend the security of our lives to pursue the potential in unknown possibilities? Imagining it was just a playful pastime, I never really considered it, but then Georgia grabbed me – and grabbed me good.
It was February when I arrived, and to this Minnesotan it felt like spring. I found myself getting lost on the one-way streets around Newnan’s square. The upside of getting lost is in what you find – and I found plenty: beautiful homes oozing with history, their untold stories sifting through my half-rolled open window (because if it’s 50 degrees in February, that’s a spring day in Minnesota). As the weeks rolled on, I was introduced to spicy boiled peanuts, homemade fig preserves, Bingo at the VFW, Brunswick stew from Sprayberry’s, a potent margarita from La Fiesta, and some excellent coffee on the square. I discovered that folks still make moonshine.
I met singer Nick Cave at the Alamo on my birthday, was introduced to homemade gas-station breakfast sausage biscuits with grape jelly, saw white clay chunks sold in Ziplock baggies, and bought bundles of yellowroot tied in a rubber band.
There were pecan trees. So many pecan trees. Imagine growing your own pecans! It boggled my brain and made my heart hanker to have a pecan tree of my very own.
Coworkers introduced me to mistletoe growing in the trees. To live in a state where stolen kisses grew in backyards, to live in a place where pecans and peaches, figs and fruit, fueled your inner fire. I saw armadillos and salamanders, heard stories of wild boars, and was blown away by Barbie Beach while realizing that actual beaches existed in this state, too. I discovered that some days in the spring my car magically turned yellow with pollen, and I learned that a package store does not actually sell boxes. I was surrounded in this Southern swirl of magic and mystery, and my broken heart started to heal.
As the weeks grew into months, my coworker and I were driving to a location near Senoia. We saw purple flowers like inky fluid dripping off the trees, unlike any lilac in my Minnesota backyard. It was wisteria. Just to say the name was like tasting bubbles on the tongue for the first time. I couldn’t stop saying it: Wisteria. Wisteria. My brain was heady with the sweet smell, and I knew at that moment, some sort of cosmic pact had been sealed. My fate had been fed.
“I’m giddy that this community embraces the arts with gusto.”
-Faith Farrell
I returned to Minnesota in May whereupon my first morning back, I woke up to a lot of snow and that dang broken snowblower. There were no salamanders sunning themselves on the deck and my lilac tree had yet to bud. Two days before, I had been enjoying barbecue and cornbread in the sunny warmth outdoors, and now I needed the warmth of soup and mittens.
I tried to make a peach pie for the Minnesota state fair. I named it “I miss Georgia Pie.” It didn’t win, but I didn’t make it to win; I made it as a token homage, a public display of my heart’s new love. But what had won was Georgia. It was time to move south.
That was nine years ago, and my homecoming with Newnan had still yet to happen. I spent the first six years living in Atlanta and painting on movie sets. I was in Georgia, gainfully employed, living with an amazing guy, Joe, but something was still missing – the wide-eyed wonder I’d felt when I was in Newnan.
After a long series of unfortunate events unfolded, I said to Joe, “We need to move.” He looked up from the baseball game on TV and said, “What about Newnan?”
There was a giant, white silence as the earthquake of his words upended my soul. The simple shift of those words being spoken out loud? That was it. That was the missing magic puzzle piece. So we bought a house walking distance to the Newnan square.
After waiting many years, the word “community” has again reclaimed its power in my life. It’s a word I’m happy to have back in my dictionary. I am awestruck with the warmth and welcome I’ve been met with. I am not working on movies as much, but I’m feeding my forgotten loves by returning to the theater (Newnan Theatre Company) after 20 years and by making art again with inspiration from Backstreet Arts. I’m giddy that this community embraces the arts with gusto.
I love the weekend market days where I can buy elderberry syrup and soap made out of red clay. I embrace every parade and festival while still discovering the history of this amazing area. Wadsworth Alley is a backstreet bingo win and it’s an extra bonus when I find a painted Newnan rock hidden around the square. My cousin even bought a home on our block and it is the first time in my life that I have lived with a relative in the same state or town, nevermind down the road. Newnan continues to surprise this girl with no need anymore for that dang broken snowblower.
I always thought the answer was Georgia but it turned out that Georgia was only the canopy. The true answer was more specific, like the wisteria drip-dripping its ripe aroma, reminding me of that day when I imagined myself living in such a place as Newnan – and then one day, it happens and you don’t even realize it. You find yourself rubbing the ache in the small of your back after hours shuffling through the leaves, on a scavenger hunt you never imagined.
You stand under the towering tree at the edge of your backyard, grinning from ear to ear, proud of all the pecans you just picked.
NCM
What is Coweta to You?
Whether you’ve lived here all your life or only a year, we want to hear your personal Coweta story. Email your “Coweta to Me” story to magazine@newnan.com or mail to 16 Jefferson St., Newnan, GA 30263. We look forward to hearing from you.
