Mountain Mama called about muscadines;
She said there's plenty left on her vines.
She hates to see anything go to waste,
Although we've lost lots of crops at her place.
With life happening as we make other plans,
Sometimes our best intentions get slammed.
We try our best to be good land stewards,
But our lives are complicated beyond any words.
With friends who are dying, and friends that are ill,
And the visitors who come to give us a thrill;
With so many events to record here and there,
We have to set priorities for that which we care.
Sometimes our people get in the way
Of picking, and plowing, and laying down hay.
So maybe we'll never be farmers in the dell,
But Mountain Mama thinks our efforts are swell.
The freezer is full of muscadine mash,
And the pantry is overflowing with our jam stash.
We had as much grapes as we could bear to lift,
And were glad when Charlie accepted them as a gift.
The circle of life is only a short drive;
Sharing our bounty helps all our friends thrive.
Several are happy about this arrangement;
So with a sigh of relief, back home we went
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Pining For My People
Not only am I dependent on my computer network working, I also am so interconnected with the people in my life that I have trouble putting one foot in front of the other without checking in with my peeps. Richard is fond of saying, "Act proves potency." For most of my life, I've had to continually add to my circle because I love having people with a purpose, a plan, a positive attitude, and a good track record for success as my advisers. And these people have all been busy using their talents to improve their areas of the earth.
I like to brainstorm with potent people, and I've always been fortunate that so many busy people allow time in their schedules to share their areas of expertise with me. Most of my potent people are now retiring, and I'm not often enough with them to enjoy basking in their glow.
I'm now faced with a dilemma; I've expanded my network into Coker Creek, and many of my people from New Orleans are spread all over the country, a number of them because of being displaced, like we were, by Hurricane Katrina. I love sharing ideas and talents while sharing physical space, but this is no longer possible given the distances between me and many of my loved ones. When I'm at our Tennessee Mountain Home, I'm pining for my far-flung friends, and it keeps my soul from settling down.
It's hard to get the same feeling from "LOL" and "LMAO" as I get laughing until we cry (or wet our pants) with a good buddy who is laughing with me in the flesh. And about "WTF," there are lots of things in life about which we should be angry enough to attempt to change them. It takes a lot of energy to emote over the phone or into a keyboard, and sometimes it just doesn't seem to get the proper passion going. A hug can't be sent through cyberspace, snail mail, or satellite signals, and nobody will ever convince me that "xxxooo" is an acceptable substitute. I like to touch and be touched by those I love. I like to see in the eyes of my beloved ones what effect my words have while I'm speaking.
Is any amount of aspirin as good at relieving shoulder tension as a nice impromptu shoulder massage given by a good friend? It is impossible to infuse the same comfort into a troubled breast from across a thousand miles as we can impart by putting our arms around the body housing the troubled soul. Not only babies need cuddling; our souls are often only soothed by the physical sharing of our spirits.
I know The Almighty holds me, but I feel The Almighty in the embrace of someone who knows and loves me. And I'm pretty sure that nobody knows me like my family and my oldest friends.
I like to brainstorm with potent people, and I've always been fortunate that so many busy people allow time in their schedules to share their areas of expertise with me. Most of my potent people are now retiring, and I'm not often enough with them to enjoy basking in their glow.
I'm now faced with a dilemma; I've expanded my network into Coker Creek, and many of my people from New Orleans are spread all over the country, a number of them because of being displaced, like we were, by Hurricane Katrina. I love sharing ideas and talents while sharing physical space, but this is no longer possible given the distances between me and many of my loved ones. When I'm at our Tennessee Mountain Home, I'm pining for my far-flung friends, and it keeps my soul from settling down.
It's hard to get the same feeling from "LOL" and "LMAO" as I get laughing until we cry (or wet our pants) with a good buddy who is laughing with me in the flesh. And about "WTF," there are lots of things in life about which we should be angry enough to attempt to change them. It takes a lot of energy to emote over the phone or into a keyboard, and sometimes it just doesn't seem to get the proper passion going. A hug can't be sent through cyberspace, snail mail, or satellite signals, and nobody will ever convince me that "xxxooo" is an acceptable substitute. I like to touch and be touched by those I love. I like to see in the eyes of my beloved ones what effect my words have while I'm speaking.
Is any amount of aspirin as good at relieving shoulder tension as a nice impromptu shoulder massage given by a good friend? It is impossible to infuse the same comfort into a troubled breast from across a thousand miles as we can impart by putting our arms around the body housing the troubled soul. Not only babies need cuddling; our souls are often only soothed by the physical sharing of our spirits.
I know The Almighty holds me, but I feel The Almighty in the embrace of someone who knows and loves me. And I'm pretty sure that nobody knows me like my family and my oldest friends.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Messy Memories
With my niece here, several people have suggested to her that we "should" be taking drives to see the changing leaves. Some of these people have never been to our Tennessee Mountain Home, so they don't know the joy of sitting in front of our fireplace, enjoying a cozy blaze while peering out the window as the light autumn rain carries the gold of black walnut leaves across our line of sight. Neither have they sat at our kitchen table watching the birds fight for a place at the sunflower seed feeder hanging from our brilliant red-leafed dogwood tree.
I am so pleased to have my niece to share these moments with me. It helps to take away my misgivings about what follows fall, so I can be more in the moment.
Living in the moment may seem obvious to some, but to those who have experienced a great deal of trauma in their lives, it can present quite a challenge. One never knows when a simple step in any direction will open up a Pandora's box of messy memories. Everyone else in the room my be celebrating, and the monsters of one person's past can pop out of the Pandora's box and turn that single person's joy to terror.
Such is my challenge with this fall in Coker Creek. We had a very rough winter last year, as we had several periods of being iced into our home for days at a time. I never learned to drive on snow, much less on ice, because New Orleans isn't prone to such events. Hurricanes, I can handle, but even a dusting of the white frozen stuff sends me into a panic.
As luck would have it, our worst ice storm since we moved into our mountains occurred when Richard was in the hospital last winter. It wasn't a pretty sight, the Wild Cajun Woman of Coker Creek, crawling along the iced over roads to get back and forth to the ICU. Oh, and did I mention that I don't drive the mountain roads at night, but Richard had to be brought in after dark? And I was in such a hurry to get him to help that I ran on fumes and ended up out of gas in an ice storm when I was ready to leave the hospital once they finally got Richard settled in ICU at three in the morning?
As I look out our window, with winter edging ever closer, I just keep reminding myself that this moment remains beautiful as long as I remember to breathe...and Richard keeps our firewood bin filled.
I am so pleased to have my niece to share these moments with me. It helps to take away my misgivings about what follows fall, so I can be more in the moment.
Living in the moment may seem obvious to some, but to those who have experienced a great deal of trauma in their lives, it can present quite a challenge. One never knows when a simple step in any direction will open up a Pandora's box of messy memories. Everyone else in the room my be celebrating, and the monsters of one person's past can pop out of the Pandora's box and turn that single person's joy to terror.
Such is my challenge with this fall in Coker Creek. We had a very rough winter last year, as we had several periods of being iced into our home for days at a time. I never learned to drive on snow, much less on ice, because New Orleans isn't prone to such events. Hurricanes, I can handle, but even a dusting of the white frozen stuff sends me into a panic.
As luck would have it, our worst ice storm since we moved into our mountains occurred when Richard was in the hospital last winter. It wasn't a pretty sight, the Wild Cajun Woman of Coker Creek, crawling along the iced over roads to get back and forth to the ICU. Oh, and did I mention that I don't drive the mountain roads at night, but Richard had to be brought in after dark? And I was in such a hurry to get him to help that I ran on fumes and ended up out of gas in an ice storm when I was ready to leave the hospital once they finally got Richard settled in ICU at three in the morning?
As I look out our window, with winter edging ever closer, I just keep reminding myself that this moment remains beautiful as long as I remember to breathe...and Richard keeps our firewood bin filled.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Here's To Our House In the Holler
Our niece is visiting us while on sabbatical from her Louisiana public school teaching position. I don't know how any teachers survive the insane asylums that the large district schools have become. I'm sort of surprised that my niece lasted six years before needing a break from the boneheaded system. It seems that neither parents nor children understand that anarchy isn't a good learning environment. Talk about the inmates running the asylums.
This niece and her family have visited on several occasions, and we're thrilled that she has chosen our Tennessee Mountain Home as her retreat center. What a beautiful time of year she has chosen! The fall colors seem to be peaking early this year; she's here to experience that and the Coker Creek Autumn Gold Festival. I'm not sure what better environment anyone could choose for clearing the cobwebs out of one's body and brain while renewing one's spirit.
Along with what occurs yearly around here, we're fortunate to have Richard lovingly making salads for our suppers, and Pastor Lynda on call to soothe our souls. How many people have a pastor working at the welcome center, available for the asking any time we need a third prayer partner? When Pastor Lynda prays, I feel it deep down in my soul.
Pastor Lynda recently organized a "see you at the pole" prayer event at the Coker Creek school. This was attended by many from the community, including two other local pastors. The success of that event led them to agree to jointly organize a prayer chain that will circle the school on the fifth Sunday of every month. Interestingly, this month, the fifth Sunday falls on October 31. I wonder what the Halloween naysayers will have to say about that.
I have a special place in my heart for Halloween, as I gave birth to my own precious pumpkin on that day. I celebrate him daily, but am always happy to have others to share in my joy over my baby boy.
Here's to our house in the holler and all the spiritual gifts it gives us and others that we cherish.
This niece and her family have visited on several occasions, and we're thrilled that she has chosen our Tennessee Mountain Home as her retreat center. What a beautiful time of year she has chosen! The fall colors seem to be peaking early this year; she's here to experience that and the Coker Creek Autumn Gold Festival. I'm not sure what better environment anyone could choose for clearing the cobwebs out of one's body and brain while renewing one's spirit.
Along with what occurs yearly around here, we're fortunate to have Richard lovingly making salads for our suppers, and Pastor Lynda on call to soothe our souls. How many people have a pastor working at the welcome center, available for the asking any time we need a third prayer partner? When Pastor Lynda prays, I feel it deep down in my soul.
Pastor Lynda recently organized a "see you at the pole" prayer event at the Coker Creek school. This was attended by many from the community, including two other local pastors. The success of that event led them to agree to jointly organize a prayer chain that will circle the school on the fifth Sunday of every month. Interestingly, this month, the fifth Sunday falls on October 31. I wonder what the Halloween naysayers will have to say about that.
I have a special place in my heart for Halloween, as I gave birth to my own precious pumpkin on that day. I celebrate him daily, but am always happy to have others to share in my joy over my baby boy.
Here's to our house in the holler and all the spiritual gifts it gives us and others that we cherish.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A Wonderful Way to Live
One of the neatest things about living in such a small, slow moving community is that one learns to appreciate the little things in life, like the seemingly simple triumphs of the people around us.
Ruth has both legs in braces and walks with a walker, but she still manages to do her handiwork and set up at craft fairs. Denny had a stroke, can barely speak with only a limited vocabulary, and has limited use of half his body; yet he manages to fabricate beautiful decorative iron pieces that his family helps him sell. Ginny uses her faith to fuel her inspirational artwork, and has recently begun marketing, along with her artwork, her deceased husband's book on spiritual healing.
Greta gracefully handles all the grief of the folks who miss her husband, Junior, more this time of year than at any other time. He died while preparing for the Autumn Gold Festival one year ago, but she still managed to handle all the vendor bookkeeping and communications for this year's fest. Ralph, Junior's first cousin, best buddy, and blood brother, and the husband of Greta's sister, successfully chaired the festival as he has for decades, even without his faithful friend.
Elaine walks with two crutches, but her hands stay busy with some of the finest cotton crochet work in Coker Creek. Clarinda, dealing with the loss of the jobs of both she and her husband, cranked up her sewing machine the night between the two days of the festival to make sure she had enough merchandise to last until the final potential customer had passed through the exit gate. And, of course, there's Jack, who continues to plug along on his stories, with his manual typewriter, to the light of kerosene lamps.
The mountain folk honor those who overcome hardships by accepting all willing workers as fellow travelers. There's an expectation that we all do whatever we can do, no matter what curve-balls come our way. It's wonderful to see so many persevering, including the many Ruritans who are well past the prime of their bodies, but still stout of soul. They combine their strengths every year to raise funds to put back into the Coker Creek community. What a wonderful way to live!
Ruth has both legs in braces and walks with a walker, but she still manages to do her handiwork and set up at craft fairs. Denny had a stroke, can barely speak with only a limited vocabulary, and has limited use of half his body; yet he manages to fabricate beautiful decorative iron pieces that his family helps him sell. Ginny uses her faith to fuel her inspirational artwork, and has recently begun marketing, along with her artwork, her deceased husband's book on spiritual healing.
Greta gracefully handles all the grief of the folks who miss her husband, Junior, more this time of year than at any other time. He died while preparing for the Autumn Gold Festival one year ago, but she still managed to handle all the vendor bookkeeping and communications for this year's fest. Ralph, Junior's first cousin, best buddy, and blood brother, and the husband of Greta's sister, successfully chaired the festival as he has for decades, even without his faithful friend.
Elaine walks with two crutches, but her hands stay busy with some of the finest cotton crochet work in Coker Creek. Clarinda, dealing with the loss of the jobs of both she and her husband, cranked up her sewing machine the night between the two days of the festival to make sure she had enough merchandise to last until the final potential customer had passed through the exit gate. And, of course, there's Jack, who continues to plug along on his stories, with his manual typewriter, to the light of kerosene lamps.
The mountain folk honor those who overcome hardships by accepting all willing workers as fellow travelers. There's an expectation that we all do whatever we can do, no matter what curve-balls come our way. It's wonderful to see so many persevering, including the many Ruritans who are well past the prime of their bodies, but still stout of soul. They combine their strengths every year to raise funds to put back into the Coker Creek community. What a wonderful way to live!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Fall Fun In Our Forest
What a fabulous festival we had this year! The weather was absolutely perfect with dewy mornings, cool enough for sitting and sipping hot cocoa and coffee around early morning bonfires. The afternoons were sunny and warm, with just enough breeze to keep us from overheating; although it was a bit capricious in blowing our posters around. But, not to worry, good mountain women always travel with duct tape.
Our over-the-hill neighbors were beneath a tree just behind me with their horseshoe and other iron art. They are the quintessential farm family with three generations all working toward keeping their house in order. There were four generations until the death of a grandmother last year. Lots of crafts, cooking, and canning go on in that house, and lots of wood cutting, gardening, and welding goes on outside and in their outbuildings. Their granddaughters are already in training, helping with everything from picking peas to helping at the sales tent.
The twelve-year-old Cassie is never still, volunteering at one booth and another, from selling raffle tickets benefiting Quilts For Kids to assisting with gold panning at the booth of her twin schoolmates. Even with all this, she managed to be voted the Autumn Gold Festival Queen, which is judged on Early American costume authenticity and poise, rather than beauty and popularity. Since her granny didn't even know about the festival until half an hour before sign-up ended, this miracle was assisted by Cassie's guardian angel Nancy and a vendor selling authentic costumes. Cinderella's fairy godmother never had better magic!
Crafty Dave, originally from Coker Creek, but now living in the same Atlanta suburb as my daughter, donates the most adorable white, flop-eared rabbits as prizes for the festival princesses. He takes special orders, so I'm hoping he'll make me some as grandchild Christmas gifts.
Jack's friend came up from Copperhill to help him hawk his book. We were delighted that he asked us to put her up for the weekend. This is how old-time mountain people put their friends up; they wouldn't ever ask someone that they didn't accept as their own family to welcome one of their friends. The added benefit of us housing his friend is that Jack finally made his way over to our house for supper. We've been inviting him for four years, but mountain folk don't like to impose. Now that he knows the way, there'll be no excuse for him not being a regular at our table.
Some of the coolest old equipment is actually working on the fairgrounds: a grist mill grinding grits and cornmeal; a free-standing power water pump on a wagon, powered by a tractor motor, with an old-fashioned well spout; an actual crank-powered sewing machine joining quilt fabric bits together. Another bit of equipment that's pure whimsy on the part of a loving Paw-Paw is the firetruck tricked out as an ice cream and root beer float production unit. How delightful is it to be a kid standing at the end of a conveyor belt coming off the rear of Paw-Paw's real firetruck, receiving you favorite frozen confection, made by Grandma and Paw-Paw?
I couldn't (or didn't) resist taking home a couple of adult bibs, made with colorful fabric on one side and terrycloth on the other. The Italians and Cajuns in New Orleans could make good use of these for eating spaghetti and barbecue shrimp. This is in addition to all the people we know with bed and wheelchair bound relatives and friends, and those who don't want jelly from their drive-thru biscuit breakfast to be worn on their ties or blouses to their important business meetings.
A booth of pure whimsy was run by a couple, she a painter and her husband an "imagineer." Many of Santa' sleigh stuffers came from this couple, from mice made out of rocks, to a piece of landscape stone transformed into a colorful Koi pond by the power of the painter. The husband's imaginings come to "life" made me laugh out loud, like the walking cane with a putter as its handle and the Harry Potter wands. His spears and arrows were so well-done that I dared not purchase them for the wild one's on our Christmas list. Talk about "putting an eye out!"
The Ruritans sold out of food each day. The barbecue is donated by a fellow in Knoxville, and is my favorite food at the fair. Trusty Richard stood and collected the cash for eight hours each day; I just don't know how he stays still so long. He says he occupies himself with people watching, and there were a lot of people to peruse.
This is fall festival season, so there will be other fairs in my and Jack's future, like the Buzz Fest next weekend at Kefauver Park and the Tellico Plains Leaf Turning Festival two weekends from now. We live in a great hub for fest hopping; along with the Buzz Fest we'll be attending Charlie and Deborah's chili cook-of next week-end with one of my high school buddies. And hopefully, Jack's friend will come back.
Fall is really great fun around here even without factoring in all the leaf-peeping and overnight guests.
Our over-the-hill neighbors were beneath a tree just behind me with their horseshoe and other iron art. They are the quintessential farm family with three generations all working toward keeping their house in order. There were four generations until the death of a grandmother last year. Lots of crafts, cooking, and canning go on in that house, and lots of wood cutting, gardening, and welding goes on outside and in their outbuildings. Their granddaughters are already in training, helping with everything from picking peas to helping at the sales tent.
The twelve-year-old Cassie is never still, volunteering at one booth and another, from selling raffle tickets benefiting Quilts For Kids to assisting with gold panning at the booth of her twin schoolmates. Even with all this, she managed to be voted the Autumn Gold Festival Queen, which is judged on Early American costume authenticity and poise, rather than beauty and popularity. Since her granny didn't even know about the festival until half an hour before sign-up ended, this miracle was assisted by Cassie's guardian angel Nancy and a vendor selling authentic costumes. Cinderella's fairy godmother never had better magic!
Crafty Dave, originally from Coker Creek, but now living in the same Atlanta suburb as my daughter, donates the most adorable white, flop-eared rabbits as prizes for the festival princesses. He takes special orders, so I'm hoping he'll make me some as grandchild Christmas gifts.
Jack's friend came up from Copperhill to help him hawk his book. We were delighted that he asked us to put her up for the weekend. This is how old-time mountain people put their friends up; they wouldn't ever ask someone that they didn't accept as their own family to welcome one of their friends. The added benefit of us housing his friend is that Jack finally made his way over to our house for supper. We've been inviting him for four years, but mountain folk don't like to impose. Now that he knows the way, there'll be no excuse for him not being a regular at our table.
Some of the coolest old equipment is actually working on the fairgrounds: a grist mill grinding grits and cornmeal; a free-standing power water pump on a wagon, powered by a tractor motor, with an old-fashioned well spout; an actual crank-powered sewing machine joining quilt fabric bits together. Another bit of equipment that's pure whimsy on the part of a loving Paw-Paw is the firetruck tricked out as an ice cream and root beer float production unit. How delightful is it to be a kid standing at the end of a conveyor belt coming off the rear of Paw-Paw's real firetruck, receiving you favorite frozen confection, made by Grandma and Paw-Paw?
I couldn't (or didn't) resist taking home a couple of adult bibs, made with colorful fabric on one side and terrycloth on the other. The Italians and Cajuns in New Orleans could make good use of these for eating spaghetti and barbecue shrimp. This is in addition to all the people we know with bed and wheelchair bound relatives and friends, and those who don't want jelly from their drive-thru biscuit breakfast to be worn on their ties or blouses to their important business meetings.
A booth of pure whimsy was run by a couple, she a painter and her husband an "imagineer." Many of Santa' sleigh stuffers came from this couple, from mice made out of rocks, to a piece of landscape stone transformed into a colorful Koi pond by the power of the painter. The husband's imaginings come to "life" made me laugh out loud, like the walking cane with a putter as its handle and the Harry Potter wands. His spears and arrows were so well-done that I dared not purchase them for the wild one's on our Christmas list. Talk about "putting an eye out!"
The Ruritans sold out of food each day. The barbecue is donated by a fellow in Knoxville, and is my favorite food at the fair. Trusty Richard stood and collected the cash for eight hours each day; I just don't know how he stays still so long. He says he occupies himself with people watching, and there were a lot of people to peruse.
This is fall festival season, so there will be other fairs in my and Jack's future, like the Buzz Fest next weekend at Kefauver Park and the Tellico Plains Leaf Turning Festival two weekends from now. We live in a great hub for fest hopping; along with the Buzz Fest we'll be attending Charlie and Deborah's chili cook-of next week-end with one of my high school buddies. And hopefully, Jack's friend will come back.
Fall is really great fun around here even without factoring in all the leaf-peeping and overnight guests.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Real Heart of Our Home
Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Autumn Gold Festival in Coker Creek, The Buzz Fest in Madisonville, they're all, not only opportunities to sell Jack's book, they're also great people-watching venues. I don't know about most folks, but the thing I like most about being in crowds is learning what makes other people tick. I don't always like what I find deep down in their souls, but I want to know what they value before I invite them into my home or my heart. A devil you know is easier to run from than a devil hiding behind a smile.
Did you ever notice that you can tell a lot more about people by observing how they treat others than you can by sitting across a table one-on-one with them? Crowds give so much camouflage for eaves-dropping and observation. I just love that!
When Richard and I met, I refused to allow the friend that introduced us to give him my address or phone number. Our early courtship was conducted as "parlor dates" where I could observe him in action with a vast array of people: his colleagues, my family and my friends. That's the way I insisted that my daughter date her future husband, and that's the way I had Richard court me. When he passed muster on all those tests, I invited his family and friends in to critique me.
Richard's family and friends are still not sure what to make of me, and Richard and I have been together for twenty years. I think they don't like as much hot sauce as Richard does, but then again, they never lived in Louisiana. My family and friends love Richard, not only for his sumptuous salads, but also for his enjoyment of all the life they bring into our otherwise too-tame world.
We have one of my favorite nieces visiting now, and next week we'll enjoy her along with one of my dearest high school buddies. A man has to be mighty sure of himself to actually enjoy hosting a hen party. My daughter used to call Richard our elf when she'd come down with her two little girls for a month on the lake every summer. The lake house is gone and the girls are almost grown, but Richard continues making memories for all who come through our door.
Long live Maison Richard...wherever his home may be!
Did you ever notice that you can tell a lot more about people by observing how they treat others than you can by sitting across a table one-on-one with them? Crowds give so much camouflage for eaves-dropping and observation. I just love that!
When Richard and I met, I refused to allow the friend that introduced us to give him my address or phone number. Our early courtship was conducted as "parlor dates" where I could observe him in action with a vast array of people: his colleagues, my family and my friends. That's the way I insisted that my daughter date her future husband, and that's the way I had Richard court me. When he passed muster on all those tests, I invited his family and friends in to critique me.
Richard's family and friends are still not sure what to make of me, and Richard and I have been together for twenty years. I think they don't like as much hot sauce as Richard does, but then again, they never lived in Louisiana. My family and friends love Richard, not only for his sumptuous salads, but also for his enjoyment of all the life they bring into our otherwise too-tame world.
We have one of my favorite nieces visiting now, and next week we'll enjoy her along with one of my dearest high school buddies. A man has to be mighty sure of himself to actually enjoy hosting a hen party. My daughter used to call Richard our elf when she'd come down with her two little girls for a month on the lake every summer. The lake house is gone and the girls are almost grown, but Richard continues making memories for all who come through our door.
Long live Maison Richard...wherever his home may be!
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