Category: Community

A Flower in Full Bloom: Nelda Faulkner has been making Leeds more beautiful since 1939.

My heart is full today. One thing we at The Leeds Ledger hope to do is shine a spotlight on some of the people that make Leeds so special. So one picture-perfect November afternoon I was privileged to spend an hour and a half with Mrs. Nelda Faulkner in her glorious backyard. As Atticus Finch might say, “Mrs. Faulkner, the Gardens at Bellingrath have nothing to compare with your flowers.”

We started our visit with a tour of the orchid-laden greenhouse and the grounds. She cut me a Debutante Camellia in full bloom right away, and the title of this piece was delivered.

Every tree, shrub, and flower in the yard had its own origin story. And it was quite obvious that all had been cared for in a way that any of us would like to be loved.

“This Japanese maple and that one on the corner only cost me $2.”

“I traded my exercise bicycle for that one.”

“All these camelias have grown from seed. And look how they’ve cross-pollinated to get different colors.”

The highlight was a Coral Bark maple that was capturing the setting sun with its vivid yellow leaves in such a divine way. In fact, the entire yard just exudes magnificence as sublime as its caretaker. At 87, Mrs. Faulkner still does almost all of the yard maintenance herself. Her vigor and enthusiasm for all forms of life radiates through her into her gardens and her birds. And it certainly filtered its way into me as well.

We sat down under the massive canopy of a crepe myrtle that shaded us and a fountain and bird bath, all which have been fashioned for an open aviary. And the longer we sat and talked, the closer the birds came. We could almost touch them.

(The following conversation has been edited for brevity)

Leeds Ledger: You have lived in Leeds your whole life. What is your earliest memory from childhood?

Nelda Faulkner: We lived with my grandparents when my dad was in World War II. The house is still there. The first thing I remember is when my dad came home after the war ended. I was only about 4 or 5 years old. He was in his uniform. 

I have wanted to write a story about my grandma’s mirror. She had an oblong mirror in her foyer. When Daddy came in, he had me and my sister in his arms, and my mama was holding my baby brother. And I remember seeing our reflection in that mirror. I thought Man! If I could have a picture of that. But I can still see it. Mother gave him a hug, and she was making biscuits, and the flour got all over him. 

I can still remember how bad I missed him.

While he was gone, my mother cut my long hair into bangs. She cut a strand about yay long, plaited, and she tied a string around it and sent it to Daddy in the Army. He went all over Europe with that little bitty hair braid with him.

LL: Then you went to Leeds Elementary?

NF: I did. I walked. Lived too close to ride the bus. And I met people there that I am still friends with today. I have been close to Janette Steele, Gerry Earhart, and Dot Sloane since second grade. We lost Gerry this year. But for a long time the four of us have been friends and went to the same Sunday School class. Me and Jeanette are still close. We volunteer each other for stuff to do. We decorate the sanctuary and Fellowship Hall (at First Baptist)  for Christmas.

LL: Tell me about your time at Leeds High School.

NF: We were the first class of the new Leeds High School to go all the way through. I had such a good time. I was a cheerleader. Harold (her future husband) was in the band. Jeanette was a majorette. The guys would drive their trucks with the guns in the back. It was just a great place to grow up. I started working at Miller Drug then. Loved that. So many people tell me they miss those milkshakes. I remember the day they moved that massive mirror across Highway 78 into the store. It was a busy Friday afternoon in the summer. Eight or ten men on each side, shuffling across the street. All you could see was their feet under the huge mirror.

The kids then would come and sit on the floor and read the magazines. And they always were polite and put them back. 

A few years ago, one of those kids came up to me and reminded me of that. And thanked me for being so kind to them. Oh my goodness! It touched me. Almost 70 years later. But that is how I was brought up. You were KIND to people. And we are all the same! Daddy BELIEVED in that.

I’ve always enjoyed people.

LL: How did you and Harold meet? You got a story?

NF: (In a whisper) Well, maybe we should turn the recorder off for this. You know Harold and I slept together long before we were married?

LL: Really?

NF: Oh yes. We were both babies in the Nursery at First Baptist Church (in the early 1940’s). I’m just being silly of course. In the old building, the one that burned.

But later he crashed my 16th birthday party. My cousin invited him. They were in the band. He asked me on a date the next week, and that was it. We were never apart after that. He was such a sweet person. Kind. I really lucked up on that.

LL: Tell me about some of the civic organizations you’ve joined in Leeds.

NF: My garden club. Cahaba Valley Garden Club since about 1982. I love it. Keep Leeds Beautiful Commission. Leeds Tree City. Historical Society. Arts Council. I’m pretty involved in church. Harold and I were in choir together until they realized I couldn’t sing. I was there for the smiling I guess. 

LL: You have been such a pleasant presence in Leeds for so long. You never seem to have a bad day. Do you have a formula or a routine for that?

NF: I was such a worrier growing up. I would think about things, and make myself sick. One day I realized these frets would never actually happen. Never happen. And something better usually would. So maybe that is the attitude. I am just so thankful for living in Leeds, for my family.

In 2020 I lost 8 members of my family, and I had major surgery. It was a tough, tough year. So I came through all of it. And I keep waking up. I’m so lucky.

LL: What is your favorite book or hobby?

NF: There are so many. I enjoy “How To” books. I love knitting. I taught a class at the Civic Center. And we formed a class at First Baptist. We knitted Shoes. Baby Blankets. Did Cruel embroidery. Sewing. One year I even got into painting eggs as ornaments. You gotta delicately suck out the yolk first. Don’t try to catch one with your knees if you drop it though!

LL: Your Facebook page is so wonderful to follow. How did you get into the birds and the flowers?

NF: When I was in second grade, my mother bought me a book about birds. There was a picture of a robin in an apple tree. I have been hooked since.

I still feed them every day. You feed them late in the afternoon. And get up early in the morning to watch. One day after a snow, I had as many as 40 cardinals in this tree. It looked like decoration. I caught the best picture of my life that day. It is my pride and joy.

Last week, a ruby crown kinglet came. He has a flaming red tuft of hair on his head when he gets riled. He comes every year. Even follows me around the yard. He is the cutest thing. 

I love my birds. I started a list one time. Got up over 1000 before I quit. I have a tanager that visited on the 8th of October three years in a row. A lot of Tennessee warblers. And I love the bluebirds!

I don’t like the mockingbirds. I got a stick on the porch to run them off. They’re so territorial.

I even get hawks and owls.

(As we’re talking, the birds started splashing in the bath, performing for us, so I tried to take pictures).

LL: Finally, how did you come to start hosting these neighborhood kids? (Mrs. Faulkner has frequent visitors from the housing projects on Dorrough Avenue)

NF: I was working in the yard one day and the kids came by and we spoke. They asked me if I had any pickles. Well yeah. So I invited them in. We work on manners and such. Yes ma’am. No ma’am. Please and thank you.

So they started bringing in their friends and their cousins. Started bringing kids from Birmingham and Bessemer. They started calling themselves the Pickle Club. Well, we graduated from pickles to cookies and ice cream and lemonade. The kids are so nice. They listen. Of course I got crayons, puzzles, and composition books for them. I have watched some of them grow up.

LL: They see something in you. We all see it. It’s not hard to see.

NF: Well, I try to remind them to do something kind for somebody. I was sick one day and I told Mason (one of the kids) I was. He asked me, “Are you gonna die, Mrs. Faulkner?”

I told him I would one day. We all will, and we don’t know when. For the next few days, he came to help me. He pulled my trash in. Got my mail. Then he started helping me serve the other kids. I trusted him. He has just had to move this fall. I am sure gonna miss Mason.

Not as much as he will miss you, Mrs. Nelda Faulkner. Thank you for helping us see the beauty of the world. You are a treasure for our town. 

Anyone who has ever dealt with a fixer-upper most certainly has used the phrase, “a fresh coat of paint will go a long way.” While the current sidewalk project is much more vast in scope, the aesthetic effect is just as satisfying when you see those freshly set walkways, unstained by the elements and decades of foot traffic. 

Motors on Main wrapped its 2026 season on a bustling night for our city, competing with those bound for Atrox at the peak of Spooky Season, and our Arts Council players showing their holiday run of The Addams Family. Eric Waters performed on the sidewalk, businesses were cycling customers, and I overheard conversations of paint schemes and chrome placement in the streets. It warmed my heart to see the people of Leeds enjoying themselves on a beautiful fall evening. I then realized how many of these people must be visitors to our city and felt the urge to welcome them individually and encourage them to make themselves at home. Downtown is our home and we should take pride in keeping things tidy for our guests. 

This city feels like it’s starting to come alive. Not so long ago I would walk up and down the sidewalks on Saturday passing empty facades. Dust covered windows, barriers between myself and the abyss of potential on the other side. It’s getting better, which is what I hoped for on those discouraging days spent strolling what seemed no more than a ghost town. The romantic in me doesn’t want to stop. I picture alleyways lit up with string lights above an outdoor patio of a restaurant filled with couples sitting beneath warm light with a bottle of wine. I see a cocktail bar with windows, a rooftop cocktail bar if this wishing is merely an exercise, with patrons laughing over drinks before walking to the [hypothetical] restaurant. 

Our new sidewalks, among other projects aimed at furthering the development of this city, provide the infrastructure needed for such dreams. Nothing derails a great idea like poor infrastructure. My hope for this city is that we continue to pursue projects that will advance us, and for our citizens to take pride in their own corner of this beautiful place. Sometimes, a fresh coat of paint is all you need. 

There is a crate in the trunk of my car filled with books acquired from various places, most of which are from my personal library that I part with to make room for new acquisitions. It’s a revolving door type of situation. I use this crate of books as inventory for whenever I come across a public book exchange, the kind of “take-a-book-leave-a-book” system you may find in certain coffee shops or bars. I love these places. If I find something of worth, it is my personal philosophy to leave a book of equal value. Perhaps the most popular of these book exchanges, of course, is the Little Free Library (LFL). Leeds, who I imagine is quite fortunate in this regard, has five of these Little Free Libraries. Yes, these exist for our community and their existence does not require much effort from any one person, but I want them to thrive with the possibility of changing someone’s life. Effort here is required. Let me explain. 

Anyone unfamiliar with the LFL, they are not very big. Depending on specific book dimensions, each one holds 20-30 books. Maybe more for some, maybe less for others. One of the five LFL boxes is dedicated to children’s books, which holds substantially more of the thinner spines. With 100ish available spots, we need to approach the task of filling these shelves as custodians and curators. I have been guilty of taking unwanted (dare I say bad) books and cramming them into the spaces that barely existed to begin with. But I had to think to myself, “who does this help other than me? What value does filling the box with terrible books bring to the community?” Don’t worry, I have since changed my ways, and I suppose this is an attempt to get others to play along. 

This weekend I opened one of the boxes and saw a coloring book that was completed – yes, no blank pages for coloring. I saw stacks of pamphlets and even CDs, none of these related to literature but rather differing, strong, opinions of the soul. There were a few from a series represented, but not the complete set, and none of which were the first in said series. I’d wager it’s been nearly 30 years since someone has said, “I really want to read book seven of the “Left Behind” series.” It began to feel like the equivalent of going to an estate sale looking for albums, only to find what you expected all along, another Donny Osmond…

So what do we do? Well, I’m glad you asked. Fill our Little Free Libraries with books you love, books you would be excited to grab, and books you would love to introduce to a fellow community member. I hold on to the hope that someone will walk by one day and decide this is the day they are going to commit to reading a book, and that book they choose changes their path to that of a lifelong reader. My dread comes from the same scenario, but the person has only the choice between a Paula Dean memoir or a tattered mass-market paperback by [insert any author peddling commercial fiction]. I believe we can do better. 

If we start to view the limited space of our LFLs as a curated selection, rather than a dumpster for the unwanted, we increase our chances of delivering joy. That’s a community to be proud of, one that puts in the effort. See something of little to no value taking up space? Take it out. Visit our local book store, The Burrow, and look for used copies of books you love and buy them to put in a LFL (there is one right across the street). Let’s take pride in this small, essential, corner of our community. Borrowing the charge of our public parks, “leave it better than you found it.”

Note: Do you know where your Little Free Libraries are located? Spend a day on the hunt! If you would like to submit photos of books given or books taken, The Ledger will be happy to share them in a future article.