Race Wars & Other Current Events

Currently a race war is being incited as a means to separate us. The chaos has begun... but the seed that it grew from was planted long ago. 

First I would like to say that I know firsthand how tedious it can be to sift through all the mindless misinformation that is being circulated worldwide by what mostly appears to be a bunch of raving fanatics or mentally unstable people, in search of the few crumbs of truth that can be found. And I know that there are those of you who will hold a negative view of what I am about to say no matter what, so perhaps this post isn't for you right now, but I do hope you return later on if you become curious. Now isn't the appropriate time for silence, but there is so much empty talk, and we must be careful and prayerful about whose voice we chose to listen to. That being said, I will continue:

I believe that there are faceless people who are in control of the most important matters in world governments. They are smart enough to hide behind politicians and money-men to stay out of the limelight, but they are the puppet-masters. They don't try to control things that aren't of importance to them because it gives people in lesser leadership roles fuel to believe that 'the people' are still in control, and that allows us all a false sense of security. Its how they keep us compliant. They let us have our 'busy-work' to keep us out of their hair while they do other things.

There has been a long time process of redefining education as something that no longer includes common sense for survival. Eventually most people wont know how to survive without depending on the government and/or technology. It looks like we are fast approaching that time, doesnt it? Most people are too out of shape for hard work, and don't know how to grow or preserve their own food, how to hunt or protect themselves, build their own shelter, make their own medicines, or even build a fire to stay warm. The masterminds of this plan knew that simple dictatorship wouldn't work on the masses for the long-term, they knew that we would resist such force and rebel, overthrowing them. So the changes have been very subtly introduced over a long period of time. They have the politicians make rational sounding excuses that everyone wants to believe; it will get us out of debt, it well remedy poverty, it will prevent identity theft, it will help us identify dangerous citizens. It is my belief that all of those things were induced by the very people who are in power. As we grow accustomed to one thing, they add something else, and a once strong people are becoming weakened in the process. I'm afraid it wont be long until people have become so desensitized to each of these new impositions into their lives by the government, that they either wont care, or wont feel that they are well enough equipped to put up a fight when the people of the world are required to take a number to buy, sell, trade, or escape imprisonment.

This is a huge contributing factor in the current race wars that are being incited. I hope people soon realize that. They are using our human weaknesses & ignorance as a means to an end, they encourage our hate, to separate us; divide and conquer.

Race is just one factor used to try and divide us- class is another. The majority of poor and sick have been conditioned to think that they are at the station they belong at in life, that hoping for anything better is fruitless. People can only receive the governments help when certain 'criteria' has been met; they can get food stamps and good medical insurance for their kids, a warm place to lay their head, and help with bills, but only if they don't work, or make much money if they do. The moment a person makes a penny more than it takes just to stay alive, all of that 'assistance' is ripped away. They have made it so much easier to do nothing and collect, than to dare and try to gain their independence from government help. No wonder there are so many people with too much time on their hands looking for ways to fill the gap, and ending up out in the streets getting into trouble. No wonder laziness has become an epidemic. No wonder there is so much depression. Or that so many turn to drugs and alcohol... And since its class separation, someone has to be allowed to have just a little more, to fuel the fire. Ive met middle-class people who look down on those who are stuck in the welfare system. They think if the poor would just work a little harder, and stay off drugs, they could get ahead. Ive also met poor people who hate those in the middle-class because they feel like they were unfairly dealt a better hand. With the poor and middle-class now pitted against one another, and racism being thrown into the mix, there are at least a few who will take each other out, and the majority of the rest will at least stay mutually preoccupied with their hate for one other, while the powerful elite continue on in pursuit of their end agenda. People are being played as pawns.

The path for the Anti-Christ to rise into power is being cleared, that's what all of this is about. He will step out onto the board at just the right time, to bring peace, and will appear to make everything better after all the destruction that is to come. People will view him as a savior, and eventually will claim to be. I dont care to gamble a guess as to how soon that will happen. I do know that the world will continue to get worse despite our best efforts, and that our ONLY hope is in Christ, the true Christ who has already come and made a way for us to avoid the hell that is to come. Read the Holy Bible, it is Gods word and has every answer you are looking for within its pages. It is our guide to eternal salvation.

 This was in the late afternoon, on election day- Tuesday, November 4th, 2014. 


I was working on cleaning up my flower bed and getting my plants ready for their winter nap, and my son was jumping on our trampoline when suddenly he yelled, "MAMA, LOOK!" and pointed at this rainbow that was WAY above us in the sky. (He later said it looked like a big smile, and I think that's exactly what it was.) After a moment of prayerful contemplation, I realized something; if he hadn't fallen flat on his back and into a position that forced him to look up, he would've missed it. That makes me wonder how many rainbows (promises of hope) I miss because Im too busy focusing/working on things in this world, instead of being still for a moment and looking up (to God, in prayer).  

And Ive wondered why life knocks me down sometimes!

That's not all I gleaned from this unexpected moment; I was also made aware that I might've missed the rainbow, if my son hadn't been so genuinely excited about. If, instead, he'd calmly said, "Hey mom, there's a rainbow, you should see it." there's a good possibility that I may not have even taken the time to look up from the mountain of work that lay before me. I am 39 after all. Ive seen LOTS of rainbows. Thankfully though, he was so joyful and excited about it, that he made me want to look too.

It only took a quick glance to see it, but first, someone had to be looking. Then, in order to get MORE people to see it, that someone had to be excited enough about it to get their attention and show them where to look, too. 

Sadly, I dont share my faith that way. 

Even though Im very plain spoken about just about everything else, when it comes to sharing my faith Im guilty of being one of those passive Christians who prefers not to rock the boat. Its not hard at all to be that type of Christian. But its not really doing what Im supposed to be doing as a Christian either. Mark 16:15 says: “And He said to them, ‘Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.'” So how have I excused my negligent behavior? By 'reasoning' to myself; I know that IM ok, so why risk upsetting anyone else? They've already heard anyway, right? Isnt that their decision to make? Isnt that between them and God? So, either I just dont say anything at all about my faith, or, on the rare occasion that the opportunity is laid bare before me, and I cant not speak up- I speak carefully, delicately testing the water with the teeeniest tip of my toe, and pulling back quickly if it even seems (like it might become, at some point, possibly) a bit too chilly. So Im pretty sure my witness probably sounds about as enthusiastic as saying: "There's this rainbow Ive seen, and you could look at it too, if you're not too busy... but if you dont want to, thats ok too." and you know what? Im sorry for that, really, really and truly sorry. Because JESUS IS INCREDIBLE! And you WILL be amazed by Him, if you'll just look- REALLY LOOK! QUICKLY!

Jeremiah 29:11-14 11For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 1I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

Canning Sour Kraut

*Note: Never can kraut when the signs are in the feet or the bowels. If you do it will smell & taste very bad.

What you'll need:
sweet, white cabbage (how much is up to you; small heads of cabbage generally make about 2 qts of kraut each)
a clean sink
a coffee/tea cup, or something similar sized to scoop the cabbage out of the bowl with
a jar funnel helps to keep the mess down
a large bowl to put finely chopped cabbage into
a large bowl or trash can for discarding unwanted cabbage parts
a cutting board, or a clean flat surface to cut the cabbage on
a butter knife
a medium sized sharp knife to de-leaf & de-core the cabbage and to cut the cabbage up with
if you have an electric food chopper it makes the job alot easier, otherwise you'll also need a large, sharp knife to chop the cabbage finely after youve cut it up
2-4 clean quart jars per head of cabbage, depending on the size of the cabbage.
a rubber ring for each jar
a zinc lid for each jar
pickling salt (you will need 2 tsp per qt)
a large pot for boiling water
a warm, dark place to sit your kraut for the next 2-4 (possibly up to 6) weeks while it 'works', and some towels to set your jars on because they will very likely leak out some.
WARNING* It will NOT smell good when the fermentation process begins. If you have a delicate nose, or just a nose period ;) you may not want to sit it in your living area.

Directions:
Remove the outer leaves of the cabbage & discard
Sit cabbages in a sink full of cool water, this helps crisp the cabbage (you dont HAVE to do this*)
Cut cabbage into big chunks and remove the core
Put a large pot of water on the stove to boil
Cut off & discard any excess left on the core and set the core aside to add to your kraut (the core is my favorite!)
If you have an electric chopper, put your cabbage chunks in on 'shred', if you dont have an electric chopper, use a large, sharp knife and a cutting board or clean counter to chop your cabbage up finely
Place finely chopped cabbage into a big bowl
Put the rubber ring on your jar
Place the funnel in the jar
Use a coffee/tea cup to scoop the chopped cabbage out of the bowl, and pour into the jar.
*Use a spoon to press the cabbage firmly into the jar, fill it up just to the neck of the jar, set aside
repeat until you have all of jars full
add 2 level tsp of pickling salt to each jar
After water has boiled turn heat off but dont allow the water to cool down.
Scoop water out of pot with cup, preferably one with a pour spout, and pour into jars over cabbage
Use a butter knife to press along the sides of the jar and in the center to release all the air bubbles from the jar
water will go down, add more water and repeat with knife until water comes to the neck of the jar & bubbles stop rising
put zinc lid on jar, close all the way down, then loosen back 1/2 turn
set aside on towels in warm (but not hot) dark place to 'work' for at least 2 weeks, you can check it then to see if its ready. It can take up to 6 weeks if you have been keeping it in a slightly cooler area. When its sour enough for your liking, tighten down all the lids, and store in a cool dark place.

Churning Homemade Butter/ Making Buttermilk; step-by-step instructions.

◦Start out by pouring unpasteurized, whole milk into your clean churn jar. Jersey cows usually make the most cream (which means more butter yield), and in my opinion have the best flavored milk, but for our butter yesterday we used Holstein milk. You dont want to overfill your churn jar, or the milk will splash out when you churn and make a big mess. I fill mine a little more than half way full. Wash your milk jugs and save them for buttermilk later.

◦Cover your milk with a clean cloth before replacing the lid to keep dirt from getting in your milk through the hole in the lid. Then set your milk aside in a warm place until it clabbers. It may clabber within a day in the summer, but if the weather is chilly you will have to sit it beside a fireplace or stove, and it could take 3 days, even then. The way to check and see if the milk has clabbered is to gently roll the churn slighty to the side and see if the milk comes away cleanly from the side of the churn. Basically, it has the consistency of yogurt. You may notice that there are 2 layers, and sometime the top layer doesnt ‘set up’. Thats because its part of the cream that has risen to the top.

◦Once you determine that your milk has clabbered, grab your dash and sit it gently down into the milk, then replace your churn lid.

◦Begin churning the milk. You want to get in a good rhythm. The faster you go, the quicker you make butter, but you also make a bigger mess. My speed is an up-down per second, which isnt that fast, and still makes butter in no time. Make sure you’re going all the way down and coming all the way back up through the milk with your dash or it will take a long time to make butter. Just like exercise, its not about the speed, so much as the form. If you are having alot of splashback, you can use a clean cloth to cover the hole around the dash, just dont wrap it so tightly around the dash that it gets caught and goes into the milk.

◦When you start noticing little specks of butter forming on your dash its time to check and see if the butter is ready to gather. If you have lots of little butter clumps floating in the top, youre ready.

◦Remove your lid, and pull the dash up so that the head of the dash is just beneath the flecks of butter, and stir slowly in a circular motion to gather your butter together.

◦After youve gathered your butter, scoop it out into a clean bowl, then replace the lid on your churn to keep the buttermilk that has been left behind, clean.

◦Take your bowl of butter to the sink, and pat it together, like youre trying to form a ball. The butter will be very soft. What you are doing is releasing the rest of the excess liquid from the butter. Drain it each time you have a small amount of liquid, and keep working it until there is barely any liquid coming out. (You can add ice to begin stiffening up the butter, just pick whatever doesnt melt out when youre done.)

◦After removing most of the liquid from the butter (and removing any ice that youve added), add salt to your taste. Start with a little, add more if needed. Mix well.

◦After you’ve mixed in your salt, put your butter in the refrigerator for about 10 minutes to let it harden a little more.

◦While you are waiting, place your butter mold into a bowl of ice water. This helps the butter to keep its form.

◦When you remove the butter from the fridge, it should feel firm, but you’ll find that if you squeeze it (which you will!) it is still easily workable.

◦Remove the butter mold from the ice water, reassemble it (leaving it wet), and begin working small handfuls of butter into it. Make sure you press the butter as firmly as possible into the mold, this will help reduce bubbles and imperfections in your final product.

◦After filling the mold with butter, and smoothing off the bottom, place the mold upside down onto whatever container you will be storing the butter in/on, and place back in the refrigerator for about 10 more minutes while in the mold to firm.

◦Gently remove the outer, cuplike part of the mold. DO NOT press down on the stamp handle unless you have to, and then only press it very gently, just long enough to get the butter to begin releasing from the mold, or you will mess up your stamp print.

◦Viola! You have beautiful, and tasty butter!

◦After youre finished making butter, use either a funnel, or a dipper that will fit down into your churn, and pour what is left in the churn (buttermilk) into clean jugs (I used the ones the milk came in), and refrigerate.

(photo 1: pouring the milk, photo 2: (left) butter mold (right) churn dash, photo 3: milk with clean cloths under the lid, photo 4: milk sitting by the stove to clabber, photo 5: checking the milk to see that its clabbered, photo 6: churn with dash, photo 7: churn with dash in the milk, photo 8: churn with dash and lid replaced, photo 9: starting to see butter flecks on the dash, photo 10: checking the butter to see if its ready for gathering, photo 11: gathering the butter together, photo 12: the gathered butter, photo 13: putting the butter into a bowl, photo 14: working the liquid out of the butter, photo 15: draining the liquid from the butter, photo 16: ice in the butter to help it begin hardening, photo 17: chilled butter, photo 18: chilling the butter mold, photo 19: pressing the butter into the mold, photo 20: removing the mold after chilling, photo 21: butter: the finished product, photo 22: getting ready to pour the buttermilk into jugs.)

Seeing the De'il

Late one night just before going to bed, I walked outside for some air, and on my way back in, someting sinister caught my eye. There was a bat flying back and forth from our kitchen to our living room. Time. Stood. Still. Until that moment I would have told you that I wasnt afraid of bats, oh no, I just love to see them flying around at night when we're camping. Outside. At a safe distance. Inside, is, I find, another matter. I discovered that I am actually quite terrified of bats when they share the same enclosure with me, and are in close proximity to my hair. I have alot of hair. Upon sight of the bat in my house, I immediately imagined the bat (the HUGE bat) tangled up in my tresses, fighting to escape, and biting me repeatedly in the process (thus giving me rabies, and the plague, and every other disease known to man) so instead of entering and bringing this idea to reality, I began shouting for my husband, who had already gone to bed. During the time I was waiting for him to come save me I propped the door open in hopes that the bat would rather be outside than in, thus flying out by his own accord. In the time it took my husband to get up, wondering groggily what was going on, the bat was nowhere to be found. He assumed that the bat had flown out while I wasnt looking. I assumed the evil vermin was hiding in the curtains, so we made a thorough check of the house, shaking out curtains and rattling couches, looking in closets, and in every dark corner. No bat. And though he denies it, I think my husband thought Id finally lost it. Too excited to go to sleep, I laid down to read. Just as I started getting sleepy I heard our ceiling fan making a strange whooshing sound and looked up. The black devil! He wasnt just in my house, now he was in my inner sanctum! I did the only smart thing there was to do; I covered my head and screamed to the top of my lungs that he was back. My husband jumped out of bed (no choice but to believe me this time!) and chased the bat from our room. From across the house I could hear my daughter worriedly asking, "Mom? Whats wrong?" but before I could tell her to flee from the house and save herself, she began screaming to the top of her lungs. The bat had made its journey from our bedroom, through our boys' bedroom, and into hers. It travelled this path for about an hour. Or, ok, more like a minute (lets face it, in 'bat in the house' time, this does indeed equal an hour. At least.) Finally, my husband was able to get it closed out of the bedrooms. I layed there in the darkness, head still covered, and completely petrified as he worked on shooing it the rest of the way out of the house. He returned a few minutes later and assured me that the problem had been taken care of as he'd 'heard it whoosh by his head after opening the door, and then saw it fly by as he stood outside'. Good. No sleep in sight, I pulled my book back out and began to read again. Oh, the evil wing'ed deceptor. Just as I was dozing off I heard the 'fan' noise again, and turned to see that Draculla had indeed returned for blood. This time my husband jumped to action just in time to see him fly into the boys' bedroom and hit my oldest son squarely in the forehead as he sat up in his top bunk. My son's reaction to this incident? A sleepy mumbling of the words, "He hit me." after which was proceeded promptly by his laying back down and going directly back to sleep. (Teenage boys. 'Nuff said.) Once again my husband returned to the bedroom uttering the uber reassuring words, "Im almost sure this time!" Great. I read for another hour. Nothing. Another 30 minutes. Still nothing. So I finally went begrudgingly to sleep, and managed to stay so for what was left of the night. And this, is how the story ends: Recently, with the weather cooling we've been having critter problems; spiders that want to snuggle up with us in the bed, mice unwelcomely making themselves at home in our home, etc. so we have mouse traps set for the larger of the afore said beasties, and the next morning when my husband awoke, he came to me saying, "Well, guess what was in the mouse trap?" It wasnt a mouse.

Putting in my two scents

Someone asked what my favorite scents are, and when I starting thinking, I could clearly smell them, one by one. Scents are a big deal to me. Sometimes, I'll catch a whiff of something that immediately jerks me back to another place and time in a flash, with no regard as to whether that place was good or bad. When its a good memory that Im pulled into, I hold on to every detail of that precious re-visit for as long as I possibly can. Scents can also lighten my mood intensely, or, no surprises here; have an intense allure. Isnt that why we wear good smelling things for our mate? Its all very instinctive and well planned out by our creator. Sometimes my sensitivity to different smells is even mildly useful in regards to health; I can smell when I have a cold coming on, and sometimes I can even smell sickness in someone else before theyre actually feeling ill. Obviously I cant prevent an illness by knowing its there, but I can prevent giving or getting a cold with this nifty pre-symptom information.

Im sure most of us are similarly affected by our sense of smell, but have you ever thought about what made a certain scent special to you, and why? It sounds simplistic and it is, but Ive learned alot about myself by doing nothing more than being a little more mindful of the inner workings of my body rather than taking them for granted.

Here are a a few of my favorite scents; crab apple blooms, honeysuckle, the breath of someone when they first come in from being outside on a cool day, line dried clothes, cloves, cinnamon, apple cider in the making, smoke & honey mingled together on a warm day (Ive grown up around bee keepers), newly fallen leaves in autumn, the skin of someone I love, apple or pine wood fires, sassafras or spicewood tea brewing, and fresh mint.

Blessings dont always come wrapped in pretty packages

I grew up surrounded by old fashioned mountain survivalists, one or two bikers of the like you dont see very often these days, and just good ole, small town people in general. The kind of folk who enjoy a kind of freedom of spirit that everyone wishes for. People who value good morals. Trustworthy folk. It was a life that meant you worked hard, minded your own business. People were loyal to their friends, most were kind and generous, courteous and respectful, genuine, and, not the type you’d want mad at you. I once thought the whole world was like that, but as you know, its not.

I left those good people, and times behind too early. I wanted to grow up fast, get out of this small town and live, and I did. And my life changed. When I was 15 I had a baby girl.

When I got my license I decided to go to a Harley rally. I’d never been to one alone before and had always been under the impression that admission was free, but I was about to receive a rude awakening. I was nearly 17. I strode up to the entrance in my short cut-off blue jean shorts, belly shirt, knee high moccasins, and one year old perched neatly on my hip. One cute & clueless little country bumpkin biker child & baby; check. Pervy 30something gate keeper unashamedly gawks at me & asks for my $20 entrance fee. When I tell him I dont have it he rubs his chin and contemplates for a moment, “Well give me a tit shot, and I’ll let you in anyway.” How kind. And unfortunately, already having learned by that tender age what monsters men can be, I was only momentarily shocked, and I gave him instead a good look at my back side walking away. As I was going I felt an arm slip through mine. I turned around, ready to fight, and looked up into the face of a warmly smiling, older, red-headed, wooly booger of a man who simply says to me, “Come on, I’ll walk you in.” I’d noticed him standing by the gate, but never wouldve guessed he would be like one of the men I had adored in my childhood. As we approached the man who wanted the 'tit shot', my escort flared his nostrils and glared daringly at him. No words couldve been as effective as that look that clearly asked in its silence, “Do you want to say something now?” The previously bold man melted into a speechless stupor, and my companion and I passed through the gate, arms linked, no further confrontation necessary.

That was the just the beginning of one really great day. To make the story short, the gentleman who escorted me in was the president of a Biker club. My daughter and I were treated like VIPs all day. We went back stage and met the bands, we were fed and looked after and entertained greatly. At the end of the day this man gave me his number and asked me to keep in touch. He also offered me gas money, which I refused. Then he and his friends offered to follow us as far as they were going on our route home to make sure we made it back without any problems, and they did. These were the kind of people that I had known as a little girl.

That day I decided maybe I could start trusting people again, my already tired faith in humanity had been greatly restored. A beautiful soul is a real treasure, often well hidden beneath a burly, mean looking shell. Its an old lesson, but one worth repeating; its unwise to depend solely upon your eyes to guide you. And for heavens sake children, dont try to grow up so fast. Learning everything the hard way hurts.

The Little Moments That Define Life

Photo by Masahiro Miyasaka

I went to my brothers place just after dark tonight to take him a plate of food from the 'way too big' supper I'd made. (His comment this afternoon when I asked him to do yoga with me ((he responded "Huh? Oh, I like blueberry yoga")) let me know he probably wouldnt object to a home cooked meal! lol) His lights were off so I knew he must be napping, but I decided to leave the plate anyway.

As soon as I turned the jeep off & stepped out, I noticed in the back field of my grannies old place the black silhouettes of people laughing & having fun in the shadow of a magnificent orange bonfire. High in the sky above them were almost constantly pulsating bright streaks of silent, distant lightning creating a magical fireworks show.

As my eyes adjusted more to the darkness I paused to take in even more of my surroundings. I saw that closer to my brothers place, around the outskirts of the fields & on the dark mountainsides beyond, the trees were so full of dancing lightning bugs that it looked like Christmastime.

Playing in my loose hair was a cool, refreshing breeze that begged more attention, so I closed my eyes & took a deep breath. I was rewarded with the fresh sweet scent of the new hay that had been mowed in the heat of the day and was now beginning to dry.

The silent gaps between the far away laughter at the bonfire were being filled with the melodic love songs of the crickets & frogs & I thought to myself, this is bliss.

Out of nowhere at the end of my day came this unexpected, unfathomably perfect moment & it felt like I was being allowed to observe a little piece of what heaven might be like. God really knows how to pick a great gift.

5-28-2010

True Love

(right click here to listen to the song 'Buckets of Rain' in new tab.)

The photo above pictures a young couple in love. Not just any young couple though; this is my granny & her fiance, Frank, back in the early part of the 1930's. They lived in Tennessee & since times were hard, Frank often had to leave town in search of work. He did his best to save up enough money for he & my granny to get married & start their new life together, but on one of Franks long out-of-town trips, something happened.

My pawpaw came along.

I'll never forget my granny telling me the story of how she & my pawpaw met. He was working for the forest service & came to her town for a job while Frank was away (ironic huh?). He was good looking & charming & all the girls were after him, she said. But he was only interested in one. He swept her off her feet & they fell head over heels in love in just the couple of short weeks he'd been there, but because he lived here in North Carolina & his job in Tennessee was ending soon, the only way they could keep seeing each other was if they got married. So that's just what they did.

My grandparents lived a long & happy life together. They built a house & had a farm & raised four children together. And after they'd spent all those long years together, when they were in their 80's, my pawpaw passed away.

That might seem like the end of the story, but it's not.

A few weeks later the phone rang, it was Frank. He'd been married too (his wife had also recently passed) & they had a family, but he just never quite got over my granny. He'd kept up with her for all of those years and had seen my pawpaws obituary in the paper. He offered his condolences & asked if he could keep in touch. He called once or twice a week for a couple of months before asking my granny if he could court her again. (for those of you who may not know, 'courting' was the term for dating, back in the day.) She accepted his offer & the next day he came all the way from Tennessee to see her. He made the trip home that night & came back again the very next day, and over the next few weeks, that became the routine, even though this man was in his 80's! I guess love lent him the energy :)

They only 'courted' for a few weeks before he asked her, once again, to marry him. She said yes & they were married shortly thereafter & spent the last 2 years of his life together, loving each other like the teenagers they were the last time they'd known each other. Talk about undying love! Ive always thought that was one of the most romantic stories that I've ever heard.

It says alot about the power of love.

Concerning Boys.

(right click here to listen to 'Bad Little Boy' in a new tab.)

When I was growing up, my parents liked to use the boogeyman as a kind of scare tactic babysitter. They'd say things like, "If you go out of the yard the boogeyman'll getcha!" and that usually worked pretty well to keep us where we were supposed to be. Yep, usually.

When my brother was 3, he was like most young boys are; insatiably curious. That makes for alot of excitement in a mother's life. One day after he'd gone out of the yard for what seemed like the hundreth time, my mom decided it was time he learned his lesson once and for all, so she went inside & got an old fur coat. She snuck out into the woods close to where she spotted him hiding out, got down on all fours & covered herself with the coat. She then began crawling toward him making horrible, frightening sounds. He ran away, so she thought she (and the boogeyman) had won. She was wrong.

A few moments later (before she even had time to pull her make-do disguise off) my brother came running back as fast as his little feet would carry him, pitchfork in hand, screaming "IM GONNA GET THE BOOGEYMAN!!!"

All I can say is, its a good thing mom was so agile.

One day, not too much later, mom looked up from washing dishes & didnt see my brother in the yard so she made what she thought would be a quick trip outside to check on him. He was nowhere to be seen. She began calling his name, but got no answer. She yelled louder, still nothing. At that point she frantically began screaming for him & ran over to the neighbors house to ask if they'd seen him, but no one had so they began searching for him as well. More people in our neighborhood soon came out as they heard the commotion & joined in the hunt for my brother, but just as my frightened & distraught mother had given up finding him quickly & headed back to the house to call the police, my brother crawled out from under the house where he'd been hiding, and laughing hysterically, pointed & said, "Mama went that way, and that way, and that way!"

Boys.

(Ok, maybe I wasnt an angel myself, but us girls, we do things a little differently- but thats a story for another day)

The Gift

(right click here to listen to the song 'Wild Mountain Honey' in a new tab.)

My pawpaw (or grandfather, to those of you unfamiliar with my southern dialect) was a beekeeper. He died when I was 8 & that is one of the few things I remember clearly about him, his bee 'charm'.

On a summer day about 4 years ago I walked outside & heard a low rumbling drone- I followed the sound to the edge of our yard & saw that in one of the top limbs of a huge poplar tree was a fat black mass of bees. I was in awe. I sat on the front porch for hours waiting to see what they were going to do & they never moved.

I ended up forgetting about them until about a week later, when we discovered that they had taken up residence in the wall of our old barn; we only use the barn for storage these days & I was ok with them being there as soon as I found out that they were honey bees. I kind of felt like my pawpaw sent them to me.

They stayed there peacefully for 3 years before my brother decided that he wanted to try his hand at beekeeping, and came to get them. I was heartbroken about disturbing them, but I felt like I should let him have the chance, so he came with a couple of his friends who keep bees & pried open the wall of the barn to find that the whole wall was filled with honey. I can still close my eyes & smell the heavenly aroma of the warm honey mingled with the beekeepers smoke- no perfume could ever begin to compare.

Everyone had on bee suits but me & they got stung several times, but I guess I have my pawpaws bee charm because I never did. Of course I wasnt freaking out when they buzzed by me like my brother did either haha!

To make this story short I will cut to the end & tell you that sadly, the bees did not live once they were moved. But I still hold onto the idea that they were a gift from my pawpaw, and so I can still smile.

I still have a ton of the honey they left behind too :)

Changes

We've all been hearing alot of news about birds lately, so it didnt take long to catch my attention earlier when I was sitting in my room & the screeches & chirping of birds became so loud I could barely hear myself think. I ran outside to see where they were & in the woods behind my house the trees were nearly black with birds & the sound was deafening. Ive seen alot of birds in my time, but never this many at once. It leaves me wondering- whats really going on with the birds & other animals- are they aware of something that we're not?

Memories of Summertime

If only we were so dignified.

In celebration of my birthday a few summers back, I was camping out with some friends for the weekend. It was early September, but the weather was still warm and beautiful so me & two of my girlfriends sat out to go tubing down the river. I had taken lots of short trips down before and really enjoyed it so I wanted to make this trip last longer.

We were camped out about a half a miles drive downriver from where we put our tubes in & we were guessing the trip back would take about an hour or two. Well, as Im sure alot of you know, a river can be very unpredictable- if it hasnt rained in a day or two, chances are it will barely be running. Such was the case that day, but we were too excited to turn back & decided to go ahead and make a go of it anyway.

We eagerly jumped into our tubes and floated about 30 feet before dragging the bottom so hard there was no amount of scooting and pushing and giggling and grunting that would get us any further. Determined not to give up, and seeing some deeper water ahead, we stood up and walked down the river with our tubes. We made it another few feet and had to get up and walk again.

Im a well bred mountain girl, so I was smart enough not to go into the river without some shoes on (those rocks hurt!) Too bad I was only smart enough to wear .99 cent flip flops instead of some kind of well made strappy river shoe. By the time I had tromped another 15 feet downriver, the pull of the river against the flip of the flop was enough to rip the thong out of my dollar store delights, and I was left to fight the savage river rocks with only my bare feet.

After a little while my friend Kristen felt sorry for me and let me borrow her shoes for a little while & my other friend, Tessa, did the same- so we were all 3 taking turns being horribly abused by mother nature (just go with it ok?). A short time later, we came to our senses and decided to abandon our river adventure. We thought we were pretty close to the campsite, or at least the main road, and decided to walk the rest of the way back along the river bank and give our aching feet a break.

The walk through the woods seemed a Godsend after walking barefooted over the sharp river rocks...for a little-bity while; After some amazing discoveries ("This would be an AWESOME campsite") and alot of laughter and speculation (also after crossing over about the fourth mountain), we started to realize that our campsite wasnt 'just over the next ridge.'

I began feeling a little pang of anxiety. Our surroundings were eerily quiet. There were no more road sounds, no voices, and it seemed that even the river was a solemn spectre far in the distance. So naturally (of course!), we tried the 'HOOTIE-WHOO' call, in hopes that we were close enough to camp for the guys to hear us and give us some audio guidance in the right direction. ( Note: Neanderthals Guys- don't bother leaving me any comments on how helpless women are without you. Although I have to admit to the occasional lapse in judgement as proven here, I have cared for enough of you when youre sick to know the truth about the 'stronger' sex!)(Im laughing, but its true, no?)

I digress.

Eventually, we heard an answer to our calls and followed the sound;

At the bottom of a hill overgrown with extremely thick mountain laurels and rhododendrons, various weeds, and generally every kind of undergrowth you can hardly see daylight through- seemed to be our way out.

I dont know who it was that took that first slippery step onto that big, mossy rock (it wasnt me!) but since we were walking in a close-knit formation we ended up in sync, like dancers in a badly choreographed ballet, clinging to one another & sliding stiffly down the rock, and, PLOP! into the river we went.

And the person standing on the bank of the river was not one of the guys we were camping with.

And this was not our campsite.

Instead, standing there and looking amusingly startled and wide-eyed, yet somewhat pleasantly surprised, was a guy I had never seen before in my life.

(*We later found out that he'd been walking his dog and had stopped at the river to let the dog get a drink).

I can only imagine what thoughts must have ran through his mind, when, out of nowhere, the peaceful walk he thought he was taking was interrupted by three, somewhat scantily clad women, falling out of the trees and into the water, literally right in front of him. All I know is, the look on his face was completely priceless, and I doubt any who were present that day will ever forget the experience.

Once the guy had regained his speech & explained where we were, we were able to get our bearings straight and quickly found the road that we followed the rest of the way back to our campsite. And in keeping with the 'Venus/Mars' theory, the guys we were camping with still dont know exactly what went on that day, which only makes the whole thing that much sweeter.

*Note: You could say there is a moral or two to be learned here;

1. A snake can be longer & meaner than it looks at first--so dont mess with it unless youre sure you know what youre doing (the river)
2. All mothers can seem cruel at times even if they dont mean to (mother nature) 
3. Good things can come out of nowhere- and when least expected (the women falling from trees of course!)
4. And always, ALWAYS, wear well made strappy river shoes when wading in the water.(read into that however you like)

A Naked Introduction

A Long & Rambling Tribute To My Parents & My Mountain Heritage
( or, 'a little bit of unapologetic pride in my raisin' mingled with a healthy dose of southern-fried spitfire)


It bothers me when I see people who were raised here in the mountains doing everything they can to change who they are so they arent classified as rednecks or dumb hillbillys by the outside world. I think people should feel comfortable being themselves without being made to feel ashamed.

I'm proud to have been raised here & to have lived here all of my life. I am so very thankful that my mama taught me how to grow a garden, that she showed me what wild plants and berries I could eat out in the woods & the ones that could be used as medicine. She taught me so many priceless 'little things' too, like how to just be quiet & watchful so nature could show me its charms; From infancy she would wrap me up all cozy in a little sack, tie me close enough to her that I could hear her heart beat & take me out for walks in the forest. She would point out the little birds & the feathers that they had lost, then she'd pick the feathers up & gently encourage me to take note of how soft they felt against my cheek, how delicate & fragile they were. She'd show me the tiny flowers growing in the field, how intricately detailed and artful they were-- tiny fragrant things that others might stomp across without notice. She'd have me to lie quietly at night and listen for the screech owl, whose song still reminds me of being a child, comforted & unafraid in the dark. She let me play in the rain & mud & get just as dirty as I wanted & she always had a smile for me when I came back with my clothes all ruined. She taught me not to judge others because we are essentially all the same.She taught me by example to be strong, to stand up for the people I love & the things I believe in. And she taught me that no one is liked by everyone & that as long as I am truly happy with who I am, that I should never give anyones negative opinions of me a second thought.

I wasnt around my daddy quite as much because he was our bread winner and worked long, hard hours to make sure we had what we needed- but he still managed to instill in me a deep love for animals by his kind & loving example; If a turtle is in the road he is the kind of person who stops to put it out of the road & if that turtle has been ran over, he's the one who takes it home & nurses it back to health. He has a gentle way with animals & taught me that, like people, hurt & frightened animals will grow to trust you over time if you are patient with them & stay consistent in your love for them. He was a kind teacher- he never minded my questions, even when I was at the age that every child asks, 'Why?' every breath. He took the time to explain things to me that didnt always make sense to my young mind & he continued repeating those things to me, so that by the time I was old enough to need to know, I did. He gave me my love for music by taking me out on our front porch swing on nights when I had a belly ache & singing a song he made up, full of sweet healing words, just for me. He kindled my love for astronomy & science over long summer nights spent outdoors looking for comets & listening to the radio waves that were 'heard better sitting by the fault line'

My parents are both very wise in ways that many might discount in this modern age, but with the kind of wisdom they have given me I feel that I have a secret, 'lost art' kind of advantage over my tech savvy neighbors. If there ever came a time that survival was about having to give up technology & all the things you can run out to the store & buy, I would very likely survive because of the things I learned from them.

If you were to meet me on the street, its entirely possible that you'd notice my long hair, carelessly twisted & clipped up on top of my head in a wild, curly mess- I'd likely be improperly dressed by average standards & maybe even covered in dirt from digging up delicious mountain delicacies like sassafras or ramps... If my appearance gives you the impression that Im too lazy to take good care of myself, it may just be that your idea of 'taking care of yourself' & mine are vastly different. ( you'd also be mistaken to think that I dont know how to clean up my 'mountain girl' look- I do so on occasion, usually not based on where Im going, but rather, what mood Im in.) And if my southern drawl makes me sound ignorant to you- could it be possible that you are only listening to the sound of my voice & not my words? See, Im not willing to change who I am in order to make that good first impression & those who care enough to get to know me dont seem to mind. Maybe you wont mind either.

No matter what, my life is rich & whole, and I am happy :)