For many years, western Arkansas was the edge of the frontier. After the Northwest Arkansas has all types of coffee shops to fit any mood. It appears that you're using a severely outdated version of Safari on Windows. Many features won't work correctly, and functionality can't be guaranteed. Please try viewing this website in Edge, Mozilla, Chrome, or another modern browser.
Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused! Like Friday night football games and watching generations of the same last name play where their parents did. Parades that start and stop at the same places every year, composed of the same church groups, pageant winners and horse riders. And the festivals that return each year, giving us a chance to celebrate our simple lives. My own town has a three-day one that has kicked off summer my whole life.
One of my earliest memories of the Rice Festival is sitting in the gazebo in the middle of town with my new boyfriend and several of our friends who also liked each other.
Cool breezes blew. Leaves fell. And we chatted excitedly about the Homecoming dance we would attend that night. It was a simple moment when life felt good and right as it tends to do in the laid-back autumn months. As I continued attending the event through the years, I realized what an integral part of life it was for residents there. Just like my hometown summer festival circled around promising lip syncs, funnel cakes and fair rides, this one roused hankerings for gumbo, cream cheese rolls and views of antique tractors for the folks who loved it.
That boyfriend and I are married now with two kids of our own and have continued the tradition of taking them to Rice Festival. I love dressing my girls in their boots and new fall clothes and strolling through the vendors and games to see who we see.
