Oh, Muriel ...
- Jun 15
- 6 min read
It all started with a wicker rocking chair and the misguided idea that “taking it easy” might, for once in my life, be good for me. You see, I had this romantic notion that spending some time on a Southern porch would soothe my mind, settle my nervous system, and perhaps lead to a sort of spiritual awakening. Here's what happened . . .
At 8:00 a.m., I sat.
At 8:15 a.m., I sipped sweet tea and took a deep breath of peace and quiet.
At 8:30 a.m., I swatted at a fly and exhaled. My nervous system went calm.
At 9:00 a.m., and every hour on the hour after that, I repeated steps one through three.
The result: magic.
This, my friends, is what it feels like to sit on a porch in the deep South and here in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, our very own Cliff Cottage Inn delivers a porch experience that truly beckons. Here's why . . .
Let's first talk about the perfect location. Perched on Armstrong Street overlooking downtown Eureka Springs, the vibrancy of this historic little town is just seventeen steps away from this freakin' Eurekan porch. Seventeen! Granted, the crooked steps could use a make out session with an accomplished mason, but then again, that's the charm of Eureka Springs. There are very few straight edges here, and even fewer lippy masons.
The porch beckons
When you need a true get-a-way from it all, book this little gem. The Cliff Cottage Inn will deliver an experience for you like no other Southern porch you've ever known in your entire life. This is because just steps away from this tranquil Victorian porch, there's vibrancy, there's movement, there's energy, and there's a whole lot of down-home joy.
Nestled in the heart of downtown Eureka Springs, Cliff Cottage Inn is a boutique hotel that offers an unparalleled escape just steps away from vibrant shops, art galleries, and renowned restaurants. With beautifully restored historic buildings, jacuzzi suites, convenient downtown parking, and breakfast delivered to your suite each morning, Cliff Cottage Inn creates a boutique bed-and-breakfast experience where guests relax, reconnect, and rediscover the magic of the Ozarks.
When one thinks about spending quality time on a porch in the South, they think of slow rocking chairs, the clink of ice in a glass of sweet tea, cicadas humming like background music from another century, and conversations with Muriel that meander like the breeze ... unhurried, heartfelt, and often hilarious.
At the Cliff Cottage Inn, you get the best of both worlds.
On a typical Eureka porch, you might hear the creak of a rocking chair, but it’ll be beside a wind chime made from vintage spoons and a blue bottle tree. You’ll still sip sweet tea, freshly brewed of course, though it might be lavender infused with a splash of elderberry syrup made from scratch by a local shopkeeper.
And who's beside you, you might ask?
Well, maybe a tarot reader from New Orleans, a retired circus clown from Tulsa, or a newlywed couple from Austin who just eloped in the Crescent Hotel chapel, with quite possibly the ghost of Michael, the most famous mason that fell to his death as he contributed to the construction of the hotel, as their best man.
What makes this Eureka Springs porch so singularly charming is this juxtaposition: the timeless, slow-living essence of a Southern porch colliding with the quirky, bohemian, and magical energy of a town that feels like it was drawn by a friendly sorcerer with a crooked ruler.
Seventeen
And it's all just seventeen clunky steps away.
Seventeen!
In a world spinning faster every day, tourists crave spaces that slow them down, but don’t put them completely to sleep. They want Southern gentility without the stereotypes, eccentricity without the chaos, and magic that feels accessible, not manufactured.
I'm here to tell you that the porch experience at The Cliff Cottage Inn has a ringside seat to all of it: the swirl of street performers, the classic car parade, the occasional busker, the ghost tour, and the way the mist rolls down Main Street like stage smoke before a show.
You're just seventeen steps from a new experience.
Seventeen!
But wait! Wicker?
Ughhhh, wicker. The mere word triggers traumatic memories for me. I've not gravitated toward wicker for most of my life. I think it comes from the "too many" scratchy back episodes, unraveling wicker handrests that poke, and sun-bleached strings slowly coming apart as they groan louder than Muriel after a potluck.
At the Cliff Cottage Inn, I was introduced to modern wicker. This stuff is no longer made from that dry, squeaky rattan that feels like a punishment for bad posture. The new era brings in resin wicker, a weatherproof, flexible miracle that looks vintage but feels like an ergonomic hug. It bends, it breathes, and yet, is still turns into a waffle iron weapon under your thighs in shorts on a hot summer day.
WOW, I love this porch.
Hey, Mama, rock me
My lovely Grandmother, God rest her soul, once called sweet tea "diabetes in a glass." But, what this nectar does for me personally is this: It turns the porch into a time machine and turns wicker into the saddle of a horse on a beach in Mexico. When I am drinking sweet tea on a porch in the South, I go so far and away that when I come back down to earth again, I catch myself mumbling under my breath, "am I actually sitting on wicker?"
Sometimes, I drink gallons of tea. Why?
Because I'm sitting on wicker.
Because I'm in the south, on a porch, and you're supposed to. It’s practically sacrament.
Refusing sweet tea on a Southern porch is like refusing oxygen on a spacewalk. It’s frowned upon and Muriel will talk about you in church on Sunday and no one wants that.
"You're terrible, Muriel."
The more tea I drink on the porch, the more reflective I become. About life. About death. About whether my soul is expanding or just bloating from all the sugar. Nevertheless, I drink it, and I travel into a wicked, wacky, wicker world where there is no one named Muriel.
The Eurekans
Every Southern porch comes with a rotating cast of characters, like an off-Broadway play with no clear plot and an infinite runtime.
There’s Joe, who has worn the same fishing hat since Nixon resigned and believes white squirrels are federal spies. There’s Miss Linda, who knows everyone’s business and isn’t above shouting it across the street at 7:30 a.m. There’s the mailman, who doesn’t actually deliver mail anymore but shows up for the sweet tea and metaphysical debates with Muriel.
On every Southern porch, there are conversations. They talk about the weather. They talk about tractors and crops. They talk about Muriel's fourth husband and his mysterious disappearance (which everyone silently agrees had something to do with her pickled eggs.)
My Existential Revelation
Somewhere between my third pitcher of tea and the seventeenth chorus of cicadas, I had what might generously be called a revelation. It hit me hard: this porch is a metaphor.
It is limbo. It is purgatory with wicker rocking chairs and mosquito coils. It is the place between action and inaction, between youth and old age, between the desire to do something and the creeping realization that nothing actually needs to be done.
You sit. You sway. You sweat. You consider your mortality, then forget what you were thinking about because Muriel shows up unannounced with a pie and snaps you back to reality with her "mornin' y'all, save your fork, I brought pie."
You blink. You look down.
Yep. You're still sitting on wicker.
When All Is Said and Done
By the end of your Cliff Cottage experience you'll be in love. This Inn is so charming, you'll fall madly in love with it, like I did. You may even fall in love with wicker, too.
One thing is for sure, after just a little moment on the porch here, you might actually achieve a sort of truce with the porch. The whole experience teaches that life doesn’t always need a punchline. Sometimes it just needs a soft breeze, a cracked glass of tea, and the comfort of knowing Muriel will always be around to gossip about hog prices, feed you her pie and complain about all the other things she cares wildly about, but you don't.
In the end, even though the Cliff Cottage Inn delivers an experience that will turn you into a loyal guest year after year, like it did to me, one thing’s for certain: I will absolutely be back to the Cliff Cottage Inn every chance I get so that I can sit on that gorgeous porch, again ... and again ... and again.
Despite my lack of fondness for wicker, I can't argue that wicker is magic because it magically whisks us away from the porch every time, every sip.
Oh, Muriel, don't deny it. Your waffle-iron printed hamstrings prove it to be true.❤️
