Tom and I traveled to Boone last week just in time to get caught in the first snow of the winter. The thought of being in a vehicle on snowy roads filled me with anxiety just as it had for as long as I could remember. But as I drove…
We belong to the mountains. It’s just a feeling we have deep inside us, rising up, bursting forth as we stand in front of our ridges that surround but often isolate us. We were born here. Born of women who belonged on that mountain just as much as the mountain…
Tomorrow, January 6, is Epiphany, the day the Magi arrived bearing gifts for the new Christ child. Tomorrow, January 6, is also the date of my mother’s birth in 1936. Those two events may seem completely disconnected, but I assure you, they’re not. Mirraim-Webster defines Epiphany as “an appearance or…
For the past several months, I have revelled in telling you stories of my childhood as I grew up in the mountains of northwest North Carolina. I am so honored and thankful to share these memories with you, and I have many more to share. Life is not lived in…
And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Well, not quite…. Two little girls lay ever so still in their bed, but with wide open eyes and hands clasped together, their whispers broke the silence of that holy night. They tried their very best…
It was Christmas and the little girl was sick. Sick enough to warrant a doctor’s visit on Christmas eve day. The four year old had strep throat and was running a high fever despite the medicine her mom had given her an hour ago. She was lying on the couch…
Our Appalachian people held to time honored superstitions and traditions regarding the Christmas season. The Old World traditions were carried to the mountains by the early settlers. While a few have remained, most have changed to fit the modern times or disappeared altogether. Here are just a few traditions and…
This week’s story will be a different one from my usual childhood recollections. This week, I feel compelled to share with you some of what being mountain folk means. We often lament how different things are now than they were 10 or 20 or 50 years ago, but when you…
The week of Christmas has always been a busy time for the Appalachianwoman. Parents, aunts, uncles and cousins would often visit, and that meant plenty of cooking. Some Appalachian Christmas treats were fried apple pies, pumpkin, squash and mince pies, and popcorn balls. One thing my mother made almost every…
It smelled of new ink on crisp, clean paper and told more stories than Scheherazade did in 1,001 Arabian Nights. Thousands of children and about as many adults soaked it up like a sponge. It told stories of glamour and intrigue, stories of fun and adventure, and stories of dreams…
