tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60901528757060866532024-03-01T17:07:34.898-08:00Appalachian Mountain RootsAppalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-7785233608837030252019-10-29T12:45:00.001-07:002019-10-29T12:57:59.437-07:00Appalachian Folklore: The Legend of Stingy Jack (HIstory of the Jack o' Lantern)<span style="font-size: large;">As I was recently reading some Appalachian Folklore, I came across a tale that I had never heard but thought would be good to share now that it's time for Halloween! As you may know, much of Appalachian folklore was brought to the area from wherever the settlers came from and this tale is said to have originated in Ireland. Out of all the versions I read, Dave Tabler's over at <a href="http://www.appalachianhistory.net/2019/10/devil-provided-stingy-jack-with-coal.html?fbclid=IwAR0Jo3alDV0VdO2yi7dgunGQozkuUfyiKRoUk06r2fj-kTgPXeHNJulfs5U" target="_blank">Appalachian History</a> is my favorite. Hope y'all enjoy! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i> <b> There's an old Irish myth about a man nicknamed "Stingy Jack." Stingy Jack was a drunken brawler who found great enjoyment from playing tricks on anyone who crossed his path Jack also had the great misfortune of running into the Devil more than once.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> Jack's first encounter with the devil happened at a local Irish pub within the village. Obviously Stingy Jack was called Stingy Jack for a reason, and he wasn't about to change now in the face of the Devil. Jack convinced the Devil to transform into a sixpence piece so that Jack could use him to pay for their drinks. In exchange for this transaction, the Devil would receive Jack's soul. Little did the Devil know, Jack sill had a few tricks up his sleeve. </b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>After changing into the sixpence piece, Jack quickly tossed the Devil into his pocket next to a silver cross - thus preventing the Devil from returning to his original form. Jack then bargained with the Devil to keep his soul for 10 more years - in return for the Devil's freedom. The Devil reluctantly agrees and Jack frees him. Ten years pass and Jack crosses path with the Devil a second time. With the Devil ready to claim his soul, Jack made a last request: "I'll go, but before I do - will you retrieve and apple from that tree for me? I'm awfully hungry!"</b></i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The devil began to climb the tree, and while the Devil was climbing to the top of the tree, Jack carved a large cross into the back of the tree. Again, the Devil had been tricked and could not get down. </b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jack being quite pleased with himself; bargained yet again with the Devil - this time for the promise that the Devil would never, ever try to take his soul again. With no way out of the tree, the Devil agreed. </b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Year pass and Jack finally passes away. Unfortunately for Jack, after all of his evil trickery and horrible deeds - God did not allow Jack into Heaven. The Devil, still bitter at Jack and his bag of tricks, kept his word and did not claim his soul. Jack was unable to get into Heaven, and unable to get into Hell. </b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Where shall I go?' Jack asked the Devil, confused and afraid.</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Back to where you came from!" The Devil growled angrily at Jack and sent him on his way back to earth.</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jack's journey back was very dark, and he begged for the Devil to lend him a light to help him lead the way. The devil provided Stingy Jack with a coal from the fires of Hell - which Jack then placed into a turnip he had in his pocket. The carved out turnip lead the way back to earth. Since then; Jack appears every Halloween. doomed to roam the earth in search of eternal rest - leading the way with his turnip lamp.</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Irish people began to refer to the ghostly figure as "Jack of the Lantern, " and soon "Jack O 'Lantern."</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Traditionally on All Hallows Eve, many Irishmen make their own versions of Jack's lantern by carving scary faces into turnips or potatoes and placing them near doors and windows to scare away the body-snatching spirits. </b></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="[turnips.JPG]" border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY97lLxVjs8f5AU58ikJ9JP1qrMtRxguiphyTx4Ll_C9xiZoH_7SEntWvFyBKpyIw_hzERJ8WjCGHc-ymH0lQkmZuM4iOVp8-XSnqIPsPkmkAXuN8VbAPb2PxLT7cQaDpOQXFoOWH1Cw/s320/turnips.JPG" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" width="320" /><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-size: large;">According to Appalachian History, pumpkins weren't actually used until the Irish immigrants brought the tradition of the Jack-o-Lanterns with them to America - only to discover that pumpkins were easier to carve than their traditional turnips and potatoes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever heard this tale? I was very surprised to learn that the tradition all started with a turnip! Dave has all sorts of Appalachian related lore and info over at his website and I encourage you to check it out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hope y'all enjoyed the tale and I hope you have a Happy Halloween! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-25344111711563723742019-06-13T08:19:00.000-07:002019-06-13T08:19:29.994-07:00Phrases Of Appalachia: Fit To Be Tied <span style="font-size: large;">Fit to be tied: An exaggeration referring to someone being so angry that they should be tied up to keep them from being aggressive.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Example: Tom was fit to be tied when he realized someone had shot his prize turkey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just recently I wrote a blog post about a story that Granny had told me and while I didn't write the story down as she told it, I could almost hear her speaking as I recalled and typed it. "Fit to be tied" was a phrase that she used often and is something that I still say. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO4Pu9ffuusWWPqL-v45hhZmep-LycM6UNxQqJFPHwVbRbr-9ZIh_NM1nwcRtJWP5IDpw5D2NS5ZjvnpGPeFm82p8tr60YdOloRE8JJ1rqoL7bZqm0e0kayP2ff-w1N3iNalEpmMHKdsw/s1600/Fit+To+Be+Tied.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="369" data-original-width="388" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO4Pu9ffuusWWPqL-v45hhZmep-LycM6UNxQqJFPHwVbRbr-9ZIh_NM1nwcRtJWP5IDpw5D2NS5ZjvnpGPeFm82p8tr60YdOloRE8JJ1rqoL7bZqm0e0kayP2ff-w1N3iNalEpmMHKdsw/s320/Fit+To+Be+Tied.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I always try to add a picture to every blog post and as I immediately thought of this one of my son, Dude (not his real name). This was taken at our VBS when he was about 5 or 6 years old and from the looks of it, he was fit to be tied! There ain't no telling why he was so mad but he definitely was. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are a visitor and hear someone use this phrase, proceed with caution! Other Appalachian phrases that refer to being mad: </span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Ill as a hornet. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Mad as an old wet hen. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">All riled up. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Got my feathers all ruffled up.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">All worked up. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Having a hissy fit.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Pitching a fit. </span></span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Got their panties in a wad.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Got a burr in their saddle. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Puffed up like a bullfrog.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">He's tore plumb outta his frame.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">She's gotta a bee in her bonnet.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Mad enough to spit nails. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Plumb fed up! </span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What are some other "mad" phrases that you've heard? </span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-45484577412501443642019-04-30T06:25:00.001-07:002019-04-30T17:39:18.771-07:00How Black-Draught Cured Granny's Lonesomeness <span style="font-size: large;">Spring makes me think about Granny. Back in April 2017, about a week before she passed away, we had an unusually warm, sunny day. She decided that she wanted to go out in the sunshine for a while so I went out and sat on the porch with her. "Granny, tell me a story." She pondered a minute or so, gave a little chuckle, and then the tale began...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"When I started school, I'd become awful lonesome for my Mama. I'd get to school, get to missing her, and then get to crying. I decided that I'd tell my teacher that I had a bellyache."</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now you have to remember that this was the early 1940s. A teacher or school secretary couldn't just pick up the phone and have her Mama come and pick her up. One, Granny and Pa Wilson didn't have a phone, and two, if they had a car or truck it would've been being used by her Daddy to get him to work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"My teacher went and found my older brother Keith and told him I was sick and that he would have to walk me home. So me and Keith set off for the five mile walk home, he told Mama I had a bellyache, and then he turned around and walked the five miles back. Mama loved on me and all was right with the world.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The next day, I got to school and was missing Mama...again. I thought I'd be slick and use the bellyache excuse...again. My teacher went and found Keith and told him to take me home...again. Keith was fit to be tied because he knew I was fibbing. He marched me the whole five miles home, begrudgingly told Mama that the teacher sent me home with a bellyache, and turned around and walked the five miles back. Now Mama was no fool. She knew from the day before that I was perfectly fine. She had to do something to nip this problem in the bud. She went to the medicine cabinet and pulled out the Black-Draught. Whew, I never came home from school early because of missing Mama again!"</i></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzelWb81Yo-AkyTKkDYF4Kx5UaLJqqq3O_ATKsWEUljRJgXtcenBGhvqVCAsz9dIlRBjH-LWEv5R0-LrYXj9wJcfoMwObzlxkOtsttLTj2kDRX5-4DQyqgSnS-BwFMlZHzl9t_f4TFB_d/s1600/Black-Draught.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzelWb81Yo-AkyTKkDYF4Kx5UaLJqqq3O_ATKsWEUljRJgXtcenBGhvqVCAsz9dIlRBjH-LWEv5R0-LrYXj9wJcfoMwObzlxkOtsttLTj2kDRX5-4DQyqgSnS-BwFMlZHzl9t_f4TFB_d/s320/Black-Draught.jpg" width="190" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For those of you who don't know, Black-Draught is a liquid laxative sold since the late 18th century. Much like castor oil, it was a commonly used folk remedy for many ailments.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We had ourselves a good laugh over that one! Granny would probably whoop me if she knew I was telling this story but I also know that she would chuckle after she had done it. I'm thankful that, despite all she was going through, she NEVER lost her sense of humor or her ability to tell a good story. I hope that whenever I leave this world people will be able to say the same for me.</span><br />
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-52976654009764424042018-11-15T12:03:00.001-08:002018-11-15T12:03:09.938-08:00My Mountain Memories: Popcorn & Hee Haw<span style="font-size: large;">When I
was little, my brother and I would spend the night with my Granny and Pa
Holloway. We loved getting to stay over and always had a good time.
Granny would usually cook one of our favorite suppers for us to
enjoy...grannies are good like that. After a long day of quilt fort
building and games, we'd settle in for the evening for my favorite
thing: eating a big pot of popcorn and watching </span><span style="font-size: large;">Hee Haw. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I wasn't
born until 1979, so I only got to enjoy the reruns. I remember my Granny
telling me that her Daddy liked to watch it too. Grandpa Wilson
(Granny's Daddy) died when I was 2 so I don't really have any memories
of him but always loved that I got to enjoy something that I knew he
liked too. My Pa liked the show more than my Granny and I always hoped
that there would be something funny enough on the show to make him laugh
until he lost his breath and slap his knee. He had one of those laughs
that would get you tickled too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My
favorite memories from Hee Haw are the "Pfft, You Were Gone" song,
Archie Campbell telling the story of Rindercella, and Grandpa Jones'
supper report. My son enjoys the show too and still asks, "Hey, Grandpa,
what's for supper?" Here's a clip I found of <a href="https://youtu.be/1FcUc2Tk0GQ" target="_blank">Hee Haw's Rindercella</a> over
on YouTube if you've never seen it or would like to watch and laugh
again. Roy Clark, Minnie Pearl, & Buck Owens will always evoke happy
childhood memories for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My
Pa was the official popcorn popper at my grandparent's house. He would
take my Granny's big yellow pot (that she still has and I hope to have
some day), pour in a little oil, heat it up, and pour in the popcorn.
After he put the lid on, we'd all wait to hear that first little pop.
He'd shake the pot around on the stove eye to keep the popcorn from
burning and take it off the heat once the popping slowed down. What a
treat! Even when we finally got a microwave, this was and is my favorite
way to make popcorn. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A
couple of nights ago, my little family was watching a movie and I got a
craving for popcorn but wanted something salty AND sweet. I decided to
whip up a batch of Salted Caramel Popcorn. It's really not a hard recipe
to make but will take a little time.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Salted Caramel Popcorn</u></span></div>
<ul>
<li>1/2 c. popcorn kernels</li>
<li>coconut oil or preferred oil for popping</li>
<li>3/4 c. butter (1 1/2 sticks)</li>
<li>1 cup light brown sugar</li>
<li>1/3 c. light corn syrup</li>
<li>sea salt</li>
</ul>
Preheat oven to 300*. Add coconut oil to a large pot until
there's enough to cover the bottom of your pot. Heat for a few minutes
and add popcorn kernels. Place lid on pot and listen for the first
kernels to begin popping. Slightly shake the pot back and forth over the
stove eye until popping slows down and then remove from heat. I like to
look through my popcorn and remove all unpopped seeds once it cools for
a few minutes. In a saucepan melt butter, brown sugar, corn syrup and
about 1 tsp of sea salt over medium heat. Bring to a boil and boil for 4
minutes without stirring. While your caramel mixture boils, line a
large baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. After the 4 minutes,
remove from heat, pour, and mix the caramel over the popped corn. Once
mixed, pour the covered popcorn onto your lined baking sheet and
sprinkle lightly with sea salt. Place sheet in the oven and bake for 30
minutes, stirring the mixture every 10 minutes. Pour mixture onto
parchment paper spread out on your counter until cooled. Enjoy!<br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: red;">Warning: Highly addictive! </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please
let me know if you get a chance to make this delicious sweet and salty
snack! I'd also love to hear about any of your favorite memories of Hee
Haw or spending the night with your grandparents. You can leave me a
message down below in the comments section. And remember, if you ever
lall in fove with a prandsome hince, be sure and slop your dripper! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This post was originally published here on Appalachian Mountain Roots on 01/04/17.</span> </span></div>
Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-7517344057727973372018-10-31T16:35:00.001-07:002018-10-31T16:35:33.965-07:00Signs, Superstitions, and Omens: Week Three<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Here is our last week of Signs, Superstitions, and Omens! If you happened to miss the past two installments, you
can find them <a href="http://www.appalachianmtnroots.com/2018/10/signs-superstitions-and-omens-week-one.html" target="_blank">HERE</a></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> and <a href="http://www.appalachianmtnroots.com/2018/10/signs-superstitions-and-omens-week-two.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><i><u>*SIGNS*</u></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>A sign is believed to predict the future but unlike the omen, signs do not foretell negative happenings.</i></span></div>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">According
to Native American superstition, biting your tongue is a sign that you
will soon receive either good news or a present.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">A
dropped towel is a sign that you will have the arrival of an unwanted
visitor. According to Scottish pioneers, you can nullify the sign by
stepping backwards over the towel.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If
you dream that your teeth fall out, its a sign that your enemy will
soon die. I always heard that it meant you would have sickness
approaching.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><u>*SUPERSTITIONS*</u></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A
superstition is an irrational belief, usually arising from ignorance or
fear, that is believed by a number of people but is without foundation.</i></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Is
there a thief in your community? Have a group of suspects dance around
an upturned axe & when if falls over, the shaft will be pointing to
the thief.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a baby sees it's image in a mirror before the age of six months, it will die before it turns one year old. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I
remember when my Dude was around 5 months old, I left him sleeping on
the couch while I went to make up my bed. I heard a thump and a cry not
even 2 minutes after leaving the room. I raced back to the living room
and scooped him up and cried right along with him. My Papaw Glenn
happened to call about that time and calmed me down. He told me that he
had always heard that if a baby didn't roll off of the bed before it was
a year old, it would die. I'm not sure if that was really a
superstition he had actually heard or if he was just trying to make me
feel better...it helped a little.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><u>*OMENS*</u></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Omen- a phenomenon that is believed to tell the future, which also signifies change...usually negative.</i></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Bad luck will come to a household if someone dreams of an axe.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Dreaming of a lizard is an omen that you have a secret enemy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a bat comes close to flying into a person, it is an omen that the person will be betrayed by a friend. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">A cat in a coal mine is an omen and the cat must be killed to avoid a death in the mines.</span></li>
</ul>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope that y'all have enjoyed this last week of SSOs. I've enjoyed reading the ones some of you have shared in the comments here and over on the Appalachian Mountain Roots Facebook page!</span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-16827461329927453722018-10-25T14:23:00.002-07:002018-10-25T14:23:21.287-07:00Signs, Superstitions, and Omens: Week Two <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: normal;">It's time for our next installment
of signs, superstitions and omens! If you missed last week's you can </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.appalachianmtnroots.com/2018/10/signs-superstitions-and-omens-week-one.html" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a></span> to
catch up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt;">*<i><u>SIGNS*</u></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 24px;"><i>A sign is believed to predict the future but unlike the omen,</i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt;">signs do not foretell negative happenings.</span></i></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">Two blackbirds flying together is a sign of good
fortune.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">If a person's medicine has been spilled accidentally,
it is a sign that he will soon recover. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">A bee that flies into the house is a sign that a
stranger is coming. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">If a chair falls over as a person rises from the table,
it is a sign that the person is a liar. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">It's a sign of good luck when your right eye itches.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 24px;">*<i><u>SUPERSTITIONS*</u></i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 24px;"><i>A
superstition is an irrational belief, usually arising from ignorance or
fear, that is believed by a number of people but is without foundation.</i></span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you walk barefoot in the first snow of winter you will not catch cold all year. -submitted by Mary Blevins</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you leave a piece of tin on top of an ant's nest during the full moon it will turn to silver.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Placing
a knife on the doorstep of the house where a birth had taken place will
prevent witches from entering and harming the baby. (Scottish)</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">You should not was a baby's right hand for its first three days or life or you will wash all of it's luck away.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If a coal miner washes his back right before going to work, the mine roof will collapse on him. </span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 24px;"><i><u>*OMENS*</u></i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Omen- a phenomenon that is believed to tell the future, which also signifies change...usually negative. </i></span> </div>
<br />
<ul>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">If a picture falls off a wall for no apparent reason, it is an omen of a coming catastrophe. </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It is an omen of an extremely hard winter ahead if several plants come into bloom out of season. </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">See a butterfly at night? It is an omen of unexpected death. </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A candle that has been put out but continues to glow is an omen of misfortune. </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">If a rooster crows as you leave to go on a trip, it is an omen of trouble. </span></li>
</ul>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I
loved reading some of these that you shared with me here and over on
Facebook. I would love to hear any more that you happen to thing of! </span><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: small;">*This post was originally published here on 9/27/16*</span></i></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-72821094149507590712018-10-17T13:30:00.000-07:002018-10-17T13:30:56.163-07:00Signs, Superstitions, and Omens: Week One <span style="font-size: large;">As the
diversely ethnic settlers came into the Appalachian region, a detailed
system of folklore was developed by combining signs, superstitions,
omens, music, stories and beliefs. This system was passed down orally
through the years and practiced as a way of keeping the folklore alive.
I've heard many of these stories and beliefs while growing up and while I
would not consider myself a superstitious person, the possible outcomes
of not abiding by these rituals will inevitably worm its way into my
mind. Better safe than sorry, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Over the
next few weeks, I plan on sharing some of these signs, superstitions,
and omens and hope that you will be willing to share any that have been
passed on in your families and communities. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVmJ1ah_hLfm8qEIEE_gCRdXO20sCaFe6_RjYODjYpI-0a6MomPPRyQKUrbsgy0VS46veov9ryKMJNGMrtZAWf96lOzbizL-rISBV8gVvpWY84tO78uCix-W3ApGmMtoruwD_DlqFvWEQ/s1600/Signs%252C+Superstitions%252C+%2526+Omens+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVmJ1ah_hLfm8qEIEE_gCRdXO20sCaFe6_RjYODjYpI-0a6MomPPRyQKUrbsgy0VS46veov9ryKMJNGMrtZAWf96lOzbizL-rISBV8gVvpWY84tO78uCix-W3ApGmMtoruwD_DlqFvWEQ/s320/Signs%252C+Superstitions%252C+%2526+Omens+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*<u style="font-style: italic;">SIGNS</u>*</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A sign is believed to predict the future but unlike the omen, signs do not foretell negative happenings. </i></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">A chin dimple is a sign of bad character. Dimples on the chin are said to be made by the devil's shoe. (<i>Why
not start off with one the applies to me, huh? I have a chin dimple and
like to think that I'm not known for my bad character!)</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Tingling
or itching ears are a sign that someone is talking about you. If it is
the left ear, you're being gossiped about. If the right, good things are
being said.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Sole of your foot itching? This is a sign that you are about to embark on a long journey.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If you have a candle that is hard to light, it is a sign that rain is on the way.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Dreaming of bees is a sign of good fortune.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*<u style="font-style: italic;">SUPERSTITIONS</u>*</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A
superstition is an irrational belief, usually arising from ignorance or
fear, that is believed by a number of people but is without
foundation. </i></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">An acorn placed on a window will will protect the house from lightning strikes.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Treading on an ant nest will cause rain that day.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">A man who wipes his hands on a girl's apron is sure to fall in love with her. (German)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Spitting on a new baby will bring the child good luck. (Irish)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Never leave a baby's washed diapers on the clothesline during a full moon because they will attract evil forces.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*<u style="font-style: italic;">OMENS</u>*</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Omen- a phenomenon that is believed to tell the future, which also signifies change...usually negative</i></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">A chicken laying an uneven number of eggs is an omen of danger.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a rabbit crosses your path before sunrise, unhappiness will cloud your day.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If the dough for baking bread cracks while being shaped, a funeral will occur soon.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a broom falls over for no reason when someone walks past, it is an omen of bad fortune.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Calling out the name of a deceased person while dreaming is an omen of a death.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I
would love to hear any of the signs, superstitions, and omens that are a
part of your families or communities. Feel free to share in the
comments section below or you can send me a message on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AppalachianMtnRoots" target="_blank">Appalachian Mountain Roots Facebook page. </a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">*This post was originally published here on Appalachian Mountain Roots on 9/20/16.*</span></i></span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-68319847912467275082018-10-15T07:56:00.001-07:002018-10-15T15:47:21.807-07:00Persimmon Seed Winter Weather Predictions (And A Few Home Remedies Using Persimmons)<span style="font-size: large;">I love fall. The fruits and veggies are canned and on the shelves. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The leaves are just starting to put on their last glorious display before saying goodbye. And the cooler temperatures have FINALLY arrived in
my little part of Appalachia! That's western NC for those of you who are new to
Appalachian Mountain Roots. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As much as I enjoy this season I can't help but wonder what kind of winter we can expect this year. Sure, I could read extensive scientific predictions from all of the "experts" but we both know that they don't really know any more than us plain folks. SO, I did what any country person does if they want to find out...I found me a persimmon tree! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Lucky for me we have a persimmon tree out at our old place and drove out to pick some Saturday afternoon. Most people wait until after the first frost to pick them but we found a couple that were already REALLY ripe. My father-in-law's honeybees were not happy that we were invading their territory so we grabbed a few that we could easily reach and skidaddled back to the car! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9Ws34DrCZMyS8RW_jMEEmrNmmVbWBQrdaEYSu-01foz_Bv_CA4Pw9ueVxEn1HeYJ-RciWhNoCBhsP0HISfxD8wIn9K8jFVUJeQyPzv0FSJgdLTLVk6mWLxe0J2G1TDLznXTvc5qnVkBD/s1600/Persimmon+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="960" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9Ws34DrCZMyS8RW_jMEEmrNmmVbWBQrdaEYSu-01foz_Bv_CA4Pw9ueVxEn1HeYJ-RciWhNoCBhsP0HISfxD8wIn9K8jFVUJeQyPzv0FSJgdLTLVk6mWLxe0J2G1TDLznXTvc5qnVkBD/s200/Persimmon+1.jpg" width="200" /> </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The deer and turkeys have left us with slim pickings!</b></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b> </b></span></i> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwde3re8IeW_bhcbB1_T5c_jru9TpmJVu2nGx0L3-W1XJuY-CDuwaOG8XwBiQJDZuqd1hjNCaNbo9HgwrWlH9zk9aItHDS_7iOsldU5ibIzIB1Ze_FRrnFdS9IiGmnuZjiLVgSIi4pTiq/s1600/Persimmon+Ripe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="716" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwde3re8IeW_bhcbB1_T5c_jru9TpmJVu2nGx0L3-W1XJuY-CDuwaOG8XwBiQJDZuqd1hjNCaNbo9HgwrWlH9zk9aItHDS_7iOsldU5ibIzIB1Ze_FRrnFdS9IiGmnuZjiLVgSIi4pTiq/s320/Persimmon+Ripe.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> <i>I had already peeled some of the skin off of this one before </i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>I thought to take a picture. It was delicious!</i> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">After enjoying a couple we got to work splitting open the seeds. We cut through about 10 of them so we would have a good number to compare. And the persimmons seed says....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Looks like spoons to us! That means we can expect plenty of snow to shovel (spoon). We did have a couple that looked like a knife which means cold, "cutting" winds. Had there been a fork shape in the seeds we would have had a mild winter with some light, powdery snows. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I love snow so that might be part of the reason most of these looked like spoons to me. I think we see what we want to sometimes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I realized that I didn't know a whole lot about persimmons so I decided to read up on them. This is what I found in <a href="https://www.foxfire.org/shop/foxfire-3/" target="_blank"><b><i>Foxfire 3</i></b></a>: "Persimmons are very high in food energy. The leaves, rich in Vitamin C, can be used for tea."<i> </i>The book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Medicine-Southern-Appalachia-Anthony-Cavender/dp/080785493X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1539613988&sr=8-1&keywords=Folk+Medicine+in+Southern+Appalachia" target="_blank"><i><b>Folk Medicine In Southern Appalachia</b></i></a>, says that persimmon juice on the tooth and gums is good for a toothache and for an earache, "A green piece of hickory or persimmon wood was thrown on a fire, and the sap emitted during burning was collected in a saucer and poured into the ear."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I guess only time will tell if the persimmon seed prediction is true or not. Like I said, I love snow so I'm hoping it's right!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Have you peeked into any seeds this year? What do the seeds say in your neck of the woods? You can leave a comment below and let me know!</span></div>
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<br />Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-7562230275101507822018-09-04T03:17:00.001-07:002019-10-29T11:29:05.907-07:00A Family of Feeders<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb9e5DiQ6wwN5Rn_k7QGLcy6NRkYUeZk3JHikYlc9kGGuL-Iduu46QA-LhTqlhx_VMEnBRPgmAfVquSGsHlMtXI7oMLYulL4lUOkG9zPPJVqbGJTNrEPCmmnDg6NuMsJ05d6TFmww1EmW/s1600/A+Family+of+Feeders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="954" data-original-width="960" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb9e5DiQ6wwN5Rn_k7QGLcy6NRkYUeZk3JHikYlc9kGGuL-Iduu46QA-LhTqlhx_VMEnBRPgmAfVquSGsHlMtXI7oMLYulL4lUOkG9zPPJVqbGJTNrEPCmmnDg6NuMsJ05d6TFmww1EmW/s320/A+Family+of+Feeders.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I come from a family of feeders. A long line of feeders. I've always known that I was a part of a group of women who tend to help people mourn and celebrate different circumstances of life with food but I never really had a name to put on what we do. Until I read a blog post by one of my favorite southern bloggers, Sean Dietrich of <a href="http://seandietrich.com/feeders-3/" target="_blank">Sean of the South</a>. Let me explain...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my family, if someone is sick you feed them. Someone died? You feed their family. Someone just had a baby? You feed them. Food is the answer for any emotion. Sad? Feed 'em. Happy? Feed 'em!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I know that this isn't just an Appalachian thing or even just an American thing, but it's a part of MY Appalachia so I decided to write about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up going to church and being around ladies who were all feeders but I <i><b>really </b></i>didn't notice it until my mom passed away. After my Dad had told my brother and I that she had died, my Great Aunt Lois arrived at our house to take us to my Granny & Pa's house (I was 14 and my brother was 17) . It took about 20 minutes for her to get us there. When we walked in the door there was food everywhere. Not only do they cook, they're also quick. News travels fast in small towns and even faster in a Baptist church. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When someone is hurting I believe that most people realize that they can't take away the hurt but they find a million different ways to help ease the burden and pain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The women I know do that through food.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know if you've noticed but it always tends to be what we call "comfort food." Why? Because they aren't just bringing you a casserole. They're hoping to deliver comfort as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These meals aren't just for deaths though. Women in my part of Appalachia will plan a meal for people who have been sick, baptisms, and many other occasions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My church has a tradition where we always have a meal after a baptizing as a way of celebrating the occasion. Last Sunday, after a scheduling mix up, we realized that a family had all shown up to see their grandson be baptized and we didn't have a thing to feed 100+ people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ain't going to lie...I panicked for a minute. Then after talking to my stepmom, we agreed that we could call in a pizza order after Sunday school. We called as soon as they opened (11AM). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Sorry, ma'am. We need at least a 2 day notice for anything over 20 pizzas." <b><i>PANIC</i></b>. My stepmom and I flew down the highway heading for town and called a local sandwich shop. "Sorry, there's no way we can have that many sandwiches ready by 12:30." <b><i>PANIC</i></b>. We called a local grocery store deli to see if they could help us out. <i><b>NOPE</b></i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After collecting myself and praying to the good Lord that He'd disable any hardworking law enforcement's speed tracking devices, I shouted, "We can make soup and sandwiches!!" At this point, it's 11:30ish and we still have to run into Walmart to buy the food and drinks, drive the 15-20 minutes back to the church, and get it all set up. Fix it, Jesus. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I called
my husband and prayed that the Lord would forgive him for answering his
phone during preaching. He plays the banjo in the church band so I told him that we couldn't get the pizzas but we were figuring it out and to play lots of music...and STALL! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We tore through Walmart like our pants were on fire. We ended up buying pre-made subs from the deli, condiments, soup mix, chips, cookies, and drinks. Beggars can't be choosers. By some miraculous heavenly intervention, we didn't have to wait long in line to check out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We arrived back at the church at around 12, unloaded my car, sliced up sandwiches and filled up trays, made two huge pots of soup, put out the chips and cookies, filled up cups with ice, and had it all done by 12:30. I asked the Lord to bless our humble meal like he did the loaves and fishes and that's about the time we heard music and people started to trickle in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like I said, I come from a long line of feeders. And that's a good thing because I also like to eat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I married into a family of feeders. Just about every Saturday evening my little family & my brother-in-law and his family have supper at my husband's parent's house. My mother-in-law does it so we can all spend time together. I look forward to it every week. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIky3TOKoCHzHcZz4_vciobaCOK5F5P78DQ_oU2xY3HeNB-0Nu7juaGVFBOW7NhyYpMT0XDsvRLI3S45ZGQtXSxSMBfdv8c-ulmpuVyEaY1InT3mxbTmdCM73vIkWr0v_fTQNcAXTggnB8/s1600/Saturday+Night+Supper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="960" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIky3TOKoCHzHcZz4_vciobaCOK5F5P78DQ_oU2xY3HeNB-0Nu7juaGVFBOW7NhyYpMT0XDsvRLI3S45ZGQtXSxSMBfdv8c-ulmpuVyEaY1InT3mxbTmdCM73vIkWr0v_fTQNcAXTggnB8/s200/Saturday+Night+Supper.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A typical Saturday spread. My mother in-law is a professional feeder. </b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>As if all of that food wasn't enough, she went and made a nanner puddin'!</b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Are you a feeder or happen to come from a family of feeders too? I'd love to hear from you! You can either leave a comment below or in the comment section on this post on Facebook. I really do read them all! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I realize that it's been several months since my last blog post. I enjoy writing but I'm not always able to find the time. Life is hard sometimes. I'd like to thank all you faithful readers for sticking around and continuing to follow the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AppalachainMtnRoots" target="_blank">Appalachian Mountain Roots Facebook page</a>. I do try to post a quick snapshot of what is going on in my world at the moment or an interesting article over there to keep it active. It ain't much but the page continues to grow. Thank you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope to sit aside time each week to write now that the garden is petering out and we're back in our homeschooling routine. I enjoy writing and sharing a bit of my life and love of Appalachia and I thank y'all for being kind enough to read it! </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-41922260104909215122018-03-08T16:06:00.001-08:002018-03-08T16:26:04.425-08:00Appalachian Spring Tonics<span style="font-size: large;">My mood always seems to perk up when the flowers start springing up and green begins to replace all of the dreary browns brought on by fall and winter. I enjoy all of the seasons but dislike when any of them extend their stay. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">It makes me want to say, "Winter, you are like a guest that has overstayed your welcome. Pack it up and move it out!" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've been reading about spring in Appalachia and how the mountain people would improve their health after a long winter. "Spring was the time to refresh the spirit and tone up the system with a tonic." <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">(<i>The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery</i>)</span> </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglM-y8idrSJrYmR5NoENwJxg1GGiOB5fXJ9FNDPO59oubFs7y9i-ZbXnuFBT5r1Ey_NnjxYSuLE8DEFeGxifb8uGumDC1QndLvb683g_NRz-AYcbZtIj01ewjr6GI3Jywo98cAPxYIZTUZ/s1600/Spring+Tonic.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglM-y8idrSJrYmR5NoENwJxg1GGiOB5fXJ9FNDPO59oubFs7y9i-ZbXnuFBT5r1Ey_NnjxYSuLE8DEFeGxifb8uGumDC1QndLvb683g_NRz-AYcbZtIj01ewjr6GI3Jywo98cAPxYIZTUZ/s1600/Spring+Tonic.jpe" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Spring Tonic, 1936 - Norman Rockwell</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Many Southern Appalachian folks believed that blood rises and falls along with the seasons, like the sap in a tree. Blood volume was said to be low in the winter and high in the summer. It was thought that blood lost its vitality due to a winter diet that was lower in vitamins and minerals. <i> </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">"In the spring the blood's invigorating properties were restored by taking a tonic, variously called a "blood builder," "blood restorer," "blood toner," or "spring tonic." The most popular tonic in Southern Appalachia</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> was sulfur and molasses, which some thought was also good for cleaning the blood. Eating a "mess of poke" (poke plant leaves) and other wild greens (such as branch lettuce and watercress) in the spring was also practiced for blood restoration. Homemade tonics were displaced in some homes by commercial products like Scout's Indian Tonic, Hadacol, and Geritol. Cooking in iron utensils added iron to the diet. Another way of adding iron was to drink water that had been boiled in an iron pot or skillet, or a glass of water in which nails had been soaked." <span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Folk Medicine In Southern Appalachia) </i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i><span style="font-size: large;">Mountain people have used teas as a remedy for fatigue for many, many years. "They would gather the roots or barks in the proper season and dry them, and then they would store them for use as the need arose. ..Spicewood, sweet birch, and sassafras were common spring tonics. The spicy, distinct flavor of sassafras made it a particularly popular tea served hot or cold." <i><span style="font-size: small;">(The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery)</span></i></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I found a list of spring tonic/tea recipes in <i>The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery</i>. Do not gather and use ANY plants unless you are 100% certain that you can identify them. Choosing and ingesting the wrong plant can be deadly. It is best that an experienced person helps you identify them in person or you can purchase them from a trusted source. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Sassafras Tea</u>: In the spring, gather roots and tender twigs of sassafras. Pound the roots to a pulp if they are very big and wash them with the twigs. Boil them, strain and sweeten. (Spring tonic.) </span></span></span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Spicewood Tea</u>: The spice bush (Lindera benzoin) grows along branch banks. It is best to gather the twigs in early spring when the bark "slips," or peels off easily. Break the twigs, place them in a pot, cover with water, and boil until the water is dark. Strain and serve hot. Sweeten if desired, with honey or molasses. (Spring tonic.)</span></span></span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Mint or White Horsemint Tea</u>: Gather mint leaves in the summer when the plant is young, just before or just after blooming. Boil the leaves in water, strain, and sweeten with honey. (Used both for enjoyment and as a spring cold remedy.) </span></span></span></span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Have any of you used these or other spring tonics? If you know of any others please leave me a comment. I would love to add to my list! </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">*I'm having a giveaway sponsored by Foxfire over on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AppalachianMtnRoots" target="_blank">Appalachian Mountain Roots Facebook page</a> to celebrate reaching 10,000 likes. You can scroll through the posts and follow the directions for your chance to win a 45th Anniversary book and CD!*</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-82192517156918823012018-02-01T05:16:00.000-08:002018-02-01T05:16:39.248-08:00Mountain Remedies Part 2<span style="font-size: large;">Last week I shared part one of my Mountain Remedies posts. (You can click <a href="http://www.appalachianmtnroots.com/2018/01/mountain-backwoods-remedies-part-1.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> if you missed it.) I mentioned that my husband's Aunt Carol had sent me an exert from <u>Smoky Mountain Remedies </u>circa 1920. It has a lengthy list and I have decided to break it up into at least two parts. I've also found some interesting remedies in one of the Foxfire books that may end up becoming part four! Whew, I had no idea that I'd have so much information to share but I've loved reading about what my people had to do to survive and am glad that I can share them with y'all. Some of these are pretty hard to believe and I don't recommend anyone trying them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before I share this information, I must first post a legal disclaimer: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>This
is a website/blog. The opinions expressed are my own and are shared as a
source of information and entertainment. I am not a medical
professional and do not recommend using any of these remedies without
first consulting with your physician.</b></span><i> <span style="background-color: white;"> </span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><u>Mountain Remedies</u></span></i><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>The hardy mountain people relied upon their own resources for many things. Home remedies were included in this resourcefulness. First of all, because of geographical lay of the land, it was not always an easy task to get to town, nor was transportation as modern and convenient as we now have. Herbs and plants were used for many things and frequently with much success. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>There were individuals who spent a lifetime searching for the natural treatment and cure for various ailments. These folks were called "Yarb Doctors." The "Yarb Doctors" would search for sheep sorrel, or Indian turnips, ginseng, sassafras and many other plants that had medicinal properties. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>Some of these remedies were:</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Catnip Tea</b>: Brew a weak catnip tea and five to newborn babies to bring out the hives.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Catnip Poultices</b>: Used on nursing mothers whose breast became caked with milk. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>White Oak Bark Tea</b>: Boil the white oak bark, making tea, used as a gargle for tonsillitis. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>Other home remedies utilized items that were hardy and that most families had readily available. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Wasp Stings</b>: Treat by daubing the insect bite with a dip of wet snuff.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Fever</b>: Make onion poultices, place on the body, then cover the sick person with many quilts or feather beds. This would cause sweating which would make the fever break.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Bad Cuts</b>: Keep saturated with coal-oil (kerosene).</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Toothache</b>: Hold vanilla flavoring in the mouth. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>After Giving Birth</b>: The mother was instructed to remain in bed at least nine days, although may people felt that twenty-one days was better. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Bad Cut or Cut Off Finger</b>: Put back in place and tie good with a rag, soak every day in kerosene. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>To Prevent Contagious Disease</b>: Put asafetida in rag, tie around neck, chew on it several times a day, wear all winter. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Cough</b>: Use whiskey, honey, and lemon juice. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Nail In Foot Or Puncture Wound</b>: Poultice of scraped potato or salty meat skin. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Chest Cold</b>: Use a poultice of fried onions in a wool rag. </i></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Ear Ache</b>: Blow tobacco smoke in ear or put a few drops of warm urine in the ear.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Bad Sore</b>: Let dog lick it.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Strained Muscle</b>: Use a poultice of red oak ooze.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Croup</b>: Take a mixture of molasses and soda.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Worms</b>: Turpentine and sugar. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">That's all for now! I have at least this many more to share next week and I hope that y'all will come back to check them out. Please leave in tried and true remedies that you know of in the comments section below.<i> </i></span></span></span></div>
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<br />Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-5672122202559435502018-01-16T15:12:00.000-08:002018-01-16T15:18:04.395-08:00Mountain Remedies Part 1<span style="font-size: large;">I've wanted to write a post about "mountain backwood remedies" for quite a while now but I always seem to get distracted by another subject. Today, as I was pondering on some blog post topics, my husband's Aunt Carol sent me an exert from a book that she was thumbing through that was titled "Mountain Remedies." Great timing, huh? Because this is a lengthy topic, I've decided to make this a two part post (maybe 3) and will share the complete exert next week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Google Image</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before I share some of my findings, I must first post a legal disclaimer: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> This
is a website/blog. The opinions expressed are my own and are shared as a
source of information and entertainment. I am not a medical
professional and do not recommend using any of these remedies without
first consulting with your physician. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The exert is from "Smoky Mtn. Heritage circa 1920" and as I was doing a little more research on the subject, I came across Dave Tabler's website, <a href="http://www.appalachianhistory.net/2016/03/heres-some-yarbs-women-got.html" target="_blank">Appalachian History</a>:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Big Pharma had not yet perfected the widespread manufacture of synthetic
drugs in 1932. Instead, the industry relied on “western North Carolina,
southwestern Virginia, eastern Kentucky, and eastern Tennessee [to]
furnish 75% of the crude botanical drugs which the continent of North
America supplies to the drug markets of the world,” according to an
article in Economic Geography that summer."</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So only 12 years after the information I'm going to share with you (next week) was published, the world still obtained the majority of their botanical drugs from Southern Appalachia. That's pretty incredible! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Interestingly enough, according to <u>Folk Medicine In Southern Appalachia</u> by Anthony Cavender, <i>"by the 1920s commercial medicines had displaced much of the folk materia medica in most households." </i>Here are some examples from the same book:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Burns</u>: Traditional Medicines (TM)- potato slice/scrapings. Commercial Medicine (CM): Cloverine Salve</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Constipation</u>: TM - Mayapple, Epsom salts. CM - Black Draught</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Cough</u>: TM - Cherry bark, mullein. CM - Troutman's Cough Syrup</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Diarrhea</u>: TM - blackberry. CM - Pepto Bismol</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Heat Rash</u>: TM - parched flour, cornstarch. CM - Gold Bond Powder</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Kidney Disorders</u>: TM - corn silk, dandelion. CM - Doan's Pills</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Liver Disorders</u>: TM - ratsbane. CM - Carter's Little Liver Pills</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Low Blood</u>: TM - sulfur and molasses. CM - Geritol, Hadacol.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Muscle Ache</u>: TM - turpentine and hog fat. CM - Watkins Red Liniment, Sloan's Liniment </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Upset Stomach</u>: TM - goldenseal, calamus, peppermint. CM - Pepto Bismol, Rolaids. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Worms</u>: TM - pumpkin seed. CM - Fry's Worm Medicine</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">A couple of years ago, I got to thinking about the fact
that if my family's health and well-being were left solely up to me, the
gravedigger could just go ahead and dig our spots. That's a very scary
thought. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since then, I've read up on many different natural remedies. I
make and can my own elderberry syrup which just so happens to be
something that the people of Appalachia have used to boost the immune
system and ward of things like the flu for many, many years. I love honey and happen to have family members who are beekeepers. Honey is good for everything! I've
researched the different uses of oils and extracts and the benefits of
them. I make, use, and sell organic insect repellent, lotions, and salves. I recently read about the
benefits of turmeric and ginger and luckily found a local farm that
grows both and now make a paste with both. I'm also hoping to grow some of my own now that I know it can be grown in this region. What I would <i><b>love</b></i> to
learn more about it how to identify plants and how to use them. Luckily,
I live in botanical heaven! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">As promised, I will share the complete list of "Mountain Remedies" (circa 1920s) next week. Hope y'all will come back to read it. Some of them are quite unusual! Until then, how about sharing some of your tried and true home remedies in the comment section below. I'd love to compile a list from all of my Appalachian Mountain Roots readers! </span><i> </i></span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-19177279383459403832017-12-31T19:51:00.001-08:002017-12-31T19:51:34.181-08:00New Year's Day Traditions & Superstitions <span style="font-size: large;">Happy
New Year, y'all! Can you believe how fast this past year has went by?
I've heard it said that the older you get, the quicker it goes and I
believe it! I have been digging around trying to find some New Year's
traditions and superstitions to share with you and only a couple of them
were familiar to me with the most familiar being the tradition of
eating black eyed peas, greens, and pork for the first meal of the new
year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I
have practiced this tradition for as long as I can remember. My Granny
Janice ALWAYS made this for our New Year's supper but would add coleslaw
(I wouldn't eat greens when I was younger), stewed taters, &
cornbread. Come to find out, there is a story behind this southern
tradition. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">During the
Civil War, the Northern army would come in and take anything they could
carry and eat anything they could eat. This included livestock and any
grains they could use to feed them...but they couldn't take it all.
After the smoke cleared, the remaining southerners weren't sure how they
were going to avoid starvation. Luckily for them, Sherman's troops had
left silos filled with black eyed peas. At that time, the North only
used black eyed peas as feed for livestock. The Northern troops saw it
as the thing of least value and since they had taken all of the
livestock, what use would it be to the southerners? They didn't realize
they were leaving the very thing that would keep the southerners from
starving. From New Year's Day 1866 until now, the tradition of eating
black eyed peas for luck continues. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We always
ate greens because they were said to represent wealth for the new year.
The more greens you ate, the more green you'd have in your wallet. I'm
still not sure there's any truth behind this but at this point, I'm not
willing to chance it! </span><span style="font-size: large;">Pork
is said to represent looking and moving forward to the year ahead
because pigs can't turn their head from side to side. This is the only
one of the trio that I never knew! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now that you know all about that tradition, here are a few New Year's Appalachian superstitions:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Immigrants
from Wales believed that spreading ashes over the hearth on New Year's
Eve could predict events for the upcoming year. If footprints left in
the ashes headed towards the front door, someone would die. If the
footprints went into a bedroom, there would be a new family member in
the home. The shape of a coffin in the ashes predicted death and the
shape of a ring foretold a marriage. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a
girl would like to know who she will marry, she can throw a ball of yarn
out of her bedroom window at midnight on New Year's Eve, and say, "As I
wind he comes" over and over as she begins winding the yarn back into a
ball. If she is to marry, her future husband will hand the yarn back
through the window to her. If no one appears, she will not marry.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">It is bad luck to hang up a new calendar before the first day of the new year.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If there is no food in the pantry on New Year's Day, it is destined to remain empty the whole year.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Well water is said to turn to wine at midnight on New Year's Eve.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">If a
man enters your home first on New Year's Day, it is a sign that you'll
have good luck all year. If it's a woman, the opposite is true.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you
have enjoyed these traditions and superstitions and I would love to
hear any that you know. Please share them in the comment section down
below and I hope each of you have a blessed New Year! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>*This post was originally published here at AMR on 1/1/16.</i></span></span>Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-62876213644184725312017-12-21T14:39:00.002-08:002017-12-21T14:39:46.251-08:00Appalachian Traditions: Christmas Plays & Treat Bags<i><span style="font-size: small;">This post was originally published here at AMR on 12/21/16.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Very
few things say "It's Christmas" to me like going to a church Christmas
play and getting a treat bag. My church had our play this past Sunday
evening and everyone was gifted a treat bag as they left. This has been a
part of Christmas my entire life and there are still many churches who
practice this tradition throughout Appalachia.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I
believe this started as a way to ensure that the children throughout
the communities would at least get one treat during the Christmas
season. For a lot of children who grew up in the mountains, this may
have been the only gift that they could expect. While the bags were
initially intended for the children, they are now given to folks of all
ages. I'm sure this still stirs up some sweet memories for all
generations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What
could you find in a Christmas treat bag? There almost always was an
apple, orange, candy cane, a pack of chewing gum, a handful of mixed nuts, and maybe a few chocolates.
Some things never change and why would we want them to? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do
you remember getting Christmas treat bags at church? Do the churches in
your area still practice this tradition? What kinds of things did you
find in your bags? I would love to hear from you...let me know in the
comments!</span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-12182335346899684342017-12-19T15:34:00.001-08:002017-12-19T15:34:54.546-08:00A Candle In The Window<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">This was originally published here at AMR on 12/22/16.</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The tradition of placing burning candles in the windows during Christmas has its roots in Irish culture. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Many people, including myself, still practice this custom and t</span><span style="font-size: large;">he history behind it is very interesting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">During
the British persecution, religion was suppressed throughout Ireland and
the people had no churches. Priests were known to hide in forests and
caves and they would secretly visit homes to say Mass during the night. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every
Irish Catholic family hoped to have a priest come to their home so they
could receive sacraments and offer hospitality. When Christmas came
around, the Irish families would leave their doors unlocked and would
place a lit candle in the window. This was a sort of signal to let any
priests who happened to be in the area know they were welcome and to let
the candles guide them to the homes during the dark night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The
priest would enter silently through the unlocked door and was welcomed
by those who were grateful that their home would be used to worship and
celebrate Jesus' birth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over
time, the British persecutors became suspicious and asked what the lit
candles were all about. The faithful Irish explained that they burn the
candles and keep the door unlocked so that Mary and Joseph, who searched
for a place to stay, could find their way to our homes and be welcomed
with open doors and open hearts. The British soldiers thought that it
was a harmless superstition and didn't bother suppressing it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I
didn't know the history behind the candle until recently. I just
thought that the battery operated candles looked pretty in my windows.
Now, they mean much more. I want them to represent John 8:12 - "Then
spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world; he
that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light
of life."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you leave a burning candle in your window during Christmas? </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-17744880583139387682017-12-12T16:01:00.001-08:002017-12-12T16:01:15.572-08:00Christmas Oranges <span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i>This post was originally published here at AMR on 12/20/16.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We rarely got anything in our stockings when I was growing up. My parents had a
hard enough time being able to put a few gifts under the tree. They
didn't see the point of wasting money on little things that ended up
getting broke or lost within a week. On the rare occasions that we did
have something in them, we would find an orange, apple, or candy cane. The fruit wasn't that big of a deal because we had access to fresh
fruit all year, but that wasn't always the case for people in Appalachia.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Money
wasn't something that could easily be found among the early settlers living in the mountains. Things
like candies, toys, and fresh fruit were hard to come by. An orange
would have been an enormous gift at that time. Once I started
researching the history behind this tradition, I recalled a book that
helped explain how rare an orange was in 1850's Appalachia:</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I
remember trying to return the favor by giving him one of a pair of
oranges that the teamsters had left as a treat. Bear had not experienced
oranges before, and he watched me eat mine before he started on his
own.</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>It
took him an hour to finish. He peeled it slowly and studied the
differing sides of the peels and smelled them and smelled his fingers.
Then he ate each section very slowly, sniffing each one before he put it
in his mouth. He savored every moment of his consumption of that
orange. When he was done he collected all the pieces of peel and dried
them in the sun like deer jerky. A month later, they had lost most of
their color, but they still held the ghost of the orange's aroma, and
Bear kept them in a gourd sealed with a wooden stopper to hold in the
scent that would have to do him until another orange made its way into
the mountains. </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>- <u>Thirteen Moons</u> </i>by Charles Frazier</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There
is some history behind Christmas oranges. St. Nicholas was a bishop
before he became a saint. The legend says that he rode through a town
where a storekeeper had three beautiful daughters and couldn't afford to
offer a dowry for them. This meant that the girls would become
destitute once their father passed away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bishop
Nicholas knew that the father was a proud man so he tossed three sacks
of gold through an open window (or chimney depending on who is telling
the story) while the family was sleeping. One of the bags landed in the
toe of a stocking that was hanging by the fire to dry. </span><span style="font-size: large;">When
the family got up the next morning, they found the gold, including the
one in the stocking which had turned into a ball overnight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Giving
an orange today is a way to celebrate generosity without expecting
anything in return. It symbolizes that gold ball and is a reminder to
care for those in need.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who knew there was so much behind a piece of fruit in a Christmas stocking? Did you get an orange in your stocking?</span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-35082914492288561372017-12-08T06:22:00.002-08:002017-12-12T19:57:49.814-08:00The Great Debate: How do you like your grits?<span style="font-size: large;">We woke up to snow this morning! I heard the weatherman
mention that we might get some but I figured it would miss us as it does
9 times out of 10. As of right this moment (Friday @ 9AM) we've gotten
at least 2" and it's still peppering down pretty good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Front yard on the left and backyard on the right.</i></b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">For some reason, snow makes me want to cook. I usually wake up a little easier (and earlier) once I notice that it has snowed. Just think of everything I could accomplish if I lived somewhere like Alaska. Ha! Anyway, I made some homemade buttermilk biscuits, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon (I know, it was on sale), homemade cherry, peach, and strawberry rhubarb jellies and jam, and grits. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b><i><span style="font-size: small;">Whoever said that Wheaties was the breakfast of champions </span></i></b></span></span></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">must have never experienced hot buttermilk biscuits. </span></span></span></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Grits are a subject that we debate about in this house. I like mine a little thicker with cheese, my husband (Jason) likes his soupy with butter and sugar, and my son (Dude) doesn't like them at all. When Jason and I first got married, I remember fixing cheese grits just because I like them and we always had savory grits growing up. We sat down to eat and Jason got up to get some sugar. I was horrified to see him add some to his grits and he was horrified after taking the first bite and realizing that their was cheese in them. I told him that sugar is for oatmeal and cream of wheat, not grits. He begged to differ! I had never known anyone to eat grits with sugar. It's still something that we joke about whenever we have them. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now I'm curious to know how everyone else eats their grits. Do you like them savory with butter and salt or cheese? Or do you like them sweet with butter and sugar? Let me know! I'm sure he'll be checking for comments as soon as he finds out that I wrote a post about grits.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b><i><span style="font-size: small;">One thing is for sure, you don't have time to discuss how you </span></i></b></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="font-size: small;">like your</span></i></b></span></span></span></span></span><b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> biscuits around here. Dude ate four before Jason </span></span></span></span></span></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">was lucky enough to reach</span></span></span></span></span></span></i></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i> for the last one! </i></b> </span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-48750294835355718912017-11-30T15:49:00.001-08:002017-11-30T20:07:24.179-08:00Appalachian Apple Stack Cake<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="font-size: large;">"Who was that let you off at the gate," asked Olivia. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It was Miss Emma and Miss Etta," said Clay-boy, holding out a Mason jar of the Recipe. "They sent this. Said it was Christmas cheer."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It's bootleg whiskey is what it is," observed Olivia.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">"What do you want me to do with it, Mama?"</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I'll take it," said Olivia..."I can use some..for my applesauce cakes."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">-Earl Hammer Jr., <i>The Homecoming</i></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When fall rolls around, most people jump on the pumpkin spice bandwagon. You can't throw a rock without hitting a product that has this flavor; pumpkin spice doughnuts, pumpkin spice pancakes, pumpkin spice coffee, pumpkin spice chocolate covered pretzels...you get the picture. I like pumpkin flavored items just as much as the next girl, but is that the first fall flavor that comes to mind when I think of fall cooking? No, says I. I'm all about the apples! Now I like apples year round but I want to make more apple recipes in the fall and winter months.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While there are many apple desserts that are common place in my part of Appalachia, none can be more rooted in our mountain culture than the Appalachian apple stack cake. Sometimes called by other names such as Confederate old-fashioned cake, Kentucky pioneer washday cake, and applesauce cake, it is traditionally made up of layers of pancake thin cake and filled with stewed dried apple filling. It is then refrigerated for at least a day or two to allow for the apple filling to saturate the cake. Doesn't that sound heavenly? I knew that this had to be on my family's Thanksgiving menu this year. Before I get into how I made my cake, I want to share some of the resourcefulness and a little history behind this regional delicacy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I've mentioned before, Appalachian women were very resourceful. They had to be! I think this dessert is a perfect example of that resourcefulness. Apples were plentiful throughout the mountains in Appalachia. A great way to preserve those apples was to dry them. I could write a whole blog post on dried apples, and probably will at some point, but won't get into that right now. Plain applesauce (or apple butter) can be used as a filing but dried apples offer a much richer flavor and was the choice of most mountain cooks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most old recipes that I researched also call for sorghum molasses or honey. This was also a resourceful sugar alternative that was available in the area. The rest of the main ingredients (flour, salt, shortening/lard, eggs, milk/buttermilk, baking powder/soda) were also economical staples that most women had on hand. Unlike Mrs. Olivia, I didn't find any recipes that called for any "Recipe" but that isn't to say that some didn't use it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From what I've read, the history of this cake is debatable. Some credit James Harrod, an early pioneer of Kentucky and founder of Harrodsburg, as the one who introduced this recipe to Appalachia. Some try to give all of the credit to Tennessee. Regardless of how it got to Appalachia, it's origin is probably based on Eastern European tortes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">According to<i> </i>the <i>Encyclopedia of Appalachia</i>, "The dried apple stack cake was a favorite pioneer wedding cake. Weddings were celebrated with "in-fares," where people gathered to party, dance, and eat potluck food. Because wedding cakes were expensive, neighbor cooks brought cake layers to donate to the bride's family, who cooked the dried apple filling. The bride's popularity was often gauged by the number of layers, but the average was seven or eight. Stack cakes were also at family reunions, church supper, Christmas dinners, and other large gatherings." The wedding history is my favorite idea associated with this cake. If I could go back and do my wedding over again, I'd choose this for my wedding cake. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've had the opportunity to sample different versions of this dessert at reunions, church potlucks, and other gatherings but this was my very first attempt at making one. Why? Anyone who knows anything about baking could look at it and tell that there's going to be quite a bit of time invested. A labor of love, if you will. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to be honest. As I was rushing around to make other things on our menu I didn't devote as much time to making it as I should've. I did use the traditional dried apples and cooked them a long time to get them just right. The cake layers is where I slacked. Instead of getting my layers as thin as I should have, I decided to try to rush the process and only do six thicker layers instead of the 7-8 that I had enough dough to do. Don't be like me. Take the time to make the layers as thin as possible. The dried apple mixture can soak into thin layers MUCH better than thicker ones which makes it SO MUCH better. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm also wanting to use a cast iron skillet instead of cake pans next time to see if it really makes a difference. I guess I could try cast iron cake pans if I had them but I don't. Almost everyone has a cast iron skillet or two and if you don't, why the heck not?! What do you make your cornbread in?! And don't you dare tell me that you don't eat cornbread. I don't need that kind of negativity in my life. Cast iron cooking will change your life. Okay, that may be a little dramatic...no it isn't. Life. Changing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As for recipes, I used one that I found online and there's no source to credit it to. Thank you, whoever you are! Just click right on the picture if you need to enlarge it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now you can see a few pics I took while making the cake:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Tips</u>: You'll need to add water as they cook down. Keep adding and cooking until you get a applesauce consistency. I left mine a little chunky but not as chunky as they are in this picture. See that little chopper in the pic? That thing is super handy in helping the apples fall apart. This recipe says to roll out your dough and you can even see my roller (that my dear husband made me) in the pic. This is unnecessary if you're using cake pans or a cast iron skillet. Just flour your hands, pinch off some dough, and spread it into your flour and greased pan. Just use enough dough to make a thin layer over the bottom of the pan. You're going to think, this isn't enough, but you're wrong. Pat it as thin as possible or you'll end up with thicker layers like the ones in my picture with the canning ring. It looks pretty thin and they are thinner than the ring, but trust me, it should be thinner. There will be some rising so make it THIN and then the apple filling can saturate the layers better. If you decide to roll it, go for no more than 1/4" thickness. This recipe says to let stand at least 12 hours. I really don't think that is long enough. Store it in a tight container and put it in the refrigerator for at least a day or two. Trust me...and another benefit of that is, you can make it ahead of time! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The finished product. I'm still kicking myself over the layers </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">not being thin enough but it was still delicious!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever had an apple stack cake? What do you call them in your neck of the woods? Leave me a comment and let me know. I loving hearing from y'all! </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-31596497668340654812017-09-07T15:12:00.000-07:002017-09-08T07:54:57.303-07:00Rock City Barns<span style="font-size: large;">I live in an area that's commonly referred to as "Two Hours From Anywhere". We're approximately two hours from Chattanooga, Atlanta, and Asheville. Far enough away from all of the hustle and bustle but close enough if you were to need to see a specialist or be in need of an airport. We frequently visit Tennessee and Georgia and can make it to each state line in around 30-40 minutes. Last weekend we decided to head toward Cleveland, TN which usually takes us about an hour. We pass this barn each time we go.</span><br />
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Located in Cherokee County, NC</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've always admired the "See Rock City" barns but took for granted that not everyone grows up getting to see advertisements painted on their local barn roofs. I knew a little bit of the history behind them but decided to do a little more digging so I could share it with y'all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">According to the Rock City <span style="color: red;">website</span>, "Since 1935, Rock City barns have stood as genuine highway Americana, their bold white-on-black signs compelling both snowbirds and Sunday drivers to a spot near Chattanooga, Tennesseee, where they could "See Rock City."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A man named Clark Byers painted the barns for three decades, from 1935 until his retirement in 1969. Over his career, he painted around 900 barns in 19 states. As compensation for the barn owner allowing the use of their barns for advertisements, they would receive free passes to the attraction and an armload of promotional merchandise. The barn owners who didn't need tickets or memorabilia were paid a whopping $3.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">During Lyndon Johnson's presidency (1963-69), billboard-banning legislation known as the "Ladybird Act" was passed. This meant that many of the of the Rock City messages had to be painted over. After a near electrocution during a thunderstorm while doing a painting "cover-up", Byers decided to retire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Barns are still being painted today. Tennessee has the most Rock City barns and they have all been named historic landmarks. I wish that every state would do this. Click <a href="http://www.seerockcity.com/about/barns-map" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a> if you'd like to see a map of where all of these famous barns are located.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of all the years that I've called western NC home and have driven past some of these barns, I have never made it to Lookout Mountain to actually SEE Rock City. I'm hoping to change that soon. Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you happen to have any Rock City barns where you live? </span></div>
Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-40770404228806991542017-08-16T14:59:00.000-07:002017-08-16T15:01:49.154-07:00Old Sayings: Superstitions & Such <span style="font-size: large;">Today's guest post is by Mrs. Shirley Wood. Shirley was born and raised in West Virginia up until the age of 12 when she and her family moved to Ohio. She is a published author of stories from her childhood. She now lives on a small hobby farm in northeast Ohio. I hope you enjoy her story as much as I did! </span><br />
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<b>Parents love to quote old sayings, and like all children, we questioned whether or not they were true. I’m not talking about the usual “Don’t run with scissors” or “You’ll put your eye out with that stick”, I surely wanted to keep both of my eyes. But there were a lot of others that made no sense to me then, and some of them even less now. You’ll see what I mean.</b></div>
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<b>There were a lot of sayings about food, such as “Don’t ever eat fish and drink milk at the same meal”. Maybe someone died once before refrigerators were invented, after eating those two items, one or both of which may have been spoiled. Or it could have been something he ate the day before that killed him, or an infection or appendicitis. Maybe he drank all the darn milk and his survivors blamed it on the milk he drank with the fish, silently glad he didn’t leave any for them. Mama also warned us not to follow each bite of food with a drink of water during meals. Otherwise, we would end up with a swallowing disorder, for which the treatment was to swallow a string that reached all the way down to our stomachs. At first I was afraid to try it, but after that first time, I felt compelled to take a drink of water after each and every bite of food for years afterward.</b></div>
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<b>There was an interesting challenge that involved boiling an egg, cutting it in half, removing the yellow, and filling the holes with salt. If you ate the egg with the salt before going to bed, you were supposed to dream of the one you would eventually marry. My sister Eva tried this, and nearly choked to death. She does not remember who she dreamed of that night, but accused Daddy of trying to kill her.</b></div>
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<b>Probably everyone has heard the old one about putting someone’s fingers in a bowl of warm water while they are sleeping, and making them pee the bed. That one didn’t get too much play at our house, because all three of us girls slept in the same bed. As the littlest, I always got stuck in the middle, and would have gotten it from either side.</b></div>
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<b>Snakes and cucumbers were the subjects of quite a few stories. When planting or tending cucumbers in our garden, if a woman was in her monthly cycle, she was not permitted in the cucumber patch because it was said that the blooms would all fall off. We never knew for sure, and would not have wanted to find out. Another story that I’ve heard many times is that just before a rattlesnake strikes, you smell a strong odor of cucumbers. I don’t know anyone who can verify that story, and don’t want to test it for myself. One story about snakes, with which I do have some experience, is that no matter what time or how they are killed, snakes do not die until sundown. Having witnessed the death of many snakes, and taken part in several, I can assure you that no matter how many pieces a snake is cut into, each of those pieces keeps on wiggling for hours afterward. Is the snake alive or is it only nerves reacting? I don’t know, but it certainly is creepy.</b></div>
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<b>When we were growing up, if any barbering was done in our home, whether on an adult or child, the hair had to be disposed of by burying, and a rock placed atop the buried hair. It could not be burnt or otherwise left in a place where birds or other varmints could make off with it, otherwise the unfortunate individual to whom the hair belonged would suffer from a headache that would last the rest of his or her life. I guess people took it pretty seriously, because I never met an individual that complained of headache every day. However, there might be a few husbands that disagree.</b></div>
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<b>There were some predictors of weather that we were all familiar with, such as a ring around the moon foretelling rain. My husband had a good laugh at my expense the first few times I predicted rain because all the leaves in our neighborhood were turning up, but has since accepted that it is at least as accurate as the weather forecast on TV. We don’t live around too many cows, but sometimes on an outing when I see cows lying down I remember that is also a pretty reliable sign of rain. In a herd of five cows with two of them are lying down, I will drill it down even further and say there’s a 40% chance of rain – again, at least as accurate as the TV weatherman.</b></div>
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<b>There were a lot of old sayings that seemed to be based in religion. You could wear red anytime and anywhere, but only women of loose morals wore red shoes, or wore red to church. Neither of my older sisters has ever owned a pair of red shoes. I did and wore them completely out.</b></div>
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<b>Women who were expecting when we were growing up were constantly warned not to look upon anything unusual, scary or horrible because they would “mark” the baby, and this never made any sense to me at the time. Whether or not it is true, there is some biblical background in Genesis 30, when Jacob “marked” cattle at conception.<br />We were all familiar with the old saying “A whistling woman and a crowing hen are neither good for God nor men”, and in our family that meant when a hen started to crow, she ended up in the pot with dumplings pretty quickly. Thankfully, the whistling part was pretty much ignored, because I have always loved to whistle, and anyone who ever heard me sing is pretty glad of that.</b></div>
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<b>For some reason women were never supposed to sew on Sunday. My mother loved to sew, and made beautiful quilts almost until the day she died a couple of years ago. Sometimes when she was caught up in a beautiful quilt, she would sew on Sunday, but I could tell she felt guilty about it. There are some who say it is work, and therefore should not be done on Sunday, but for Mama it was pleasure to sew, and it kept her active mentally as well as physically. And those same individuals who might have criticized her would not have blinked if, on Sunday morning, the old hen started crowing and had to be killed, plucked, and cooked!</b></div>
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<b>There was one saying of my dad’s that we heard pretty often, and found out that he was never wrong. Like most children who are close in age, we sometimes picked on one another. We would start out tickling, pinching and laughing, and we could get pretty loud, especially if we were inside the house. When the noise began to get out of hand, we would hear Daddy say “That laughing is going to turn to crying in about five minutes”. Sure enough, if we continued on in the same course of action, we could count on it.</b></div>
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<b>Shirley Wood<br />Copyright 2010</b></div>
Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-21056194944301207142017-07-26T14:56:00.000-07:002019-06-26T11:47:16.699-07:00Lettuce & Onions<span style="font-size: large;">This past weekend, we ate supper at my in-laws. We actually spend most Saturday evenings there. Its always a fun time to get together and catch up on whats going on with everyone. My mother in-law, Connie, always makes a big, country supper. Common items on the table, especially during this time of year, are fresh vegetables. At any given meal you're likely to see beans (pintos or green beans), potatoes (fried, browned, mashed), corn (on the cob or cut off and cooked up in a skillet), fried squash or okra, tomatoes, cucumbers, and one of my most favorite things: lettuce and onions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lettuce and onions, also known as wilted lettuce or killed (kilt) lettuce, is a delicious southern side dish. While each family has their own way of making it, most of us can agree that fresh leaf lettuce, onions, and bacon grease are always involved. Those of you who happen to read this blog who aren't from Appalachia may think this sounds disgusting but I'm fairly certain that you'd like it if you'd try it! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Making this dish is super simple. First, you're going to want to gather some fresh, tender leaf lettuce. Wash, pat dry, and tear up in to smaller pieces. Next, chop up and add some onions. Spring green onions always seem to taste the best but you can add a regular ol' onion and it'll still be tasty. Now you're going to want to get some bacon grease. You can fry you up several slices of bacon, remove when crispy, chop up the bacon, and then add it and the hot grease over the lettuce and onions and toss to cover. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now if you sprinkle on some salt and pepper, you would be ready to enjoy your lettuce and onions the way I grew up eating them. When I got married and ate this dish at my husband's Granny Stalcup's house, I noticed that it had a little bit of a sweet taste to it. She told me that she added a splash of vinegar and sprinkling of sugar to it. It was delicious! My mother in-law happened to add a splash of pickle juice (basically the same thing) to hers and it is delicious too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You don't have to add fresh grease if you happen to save your bacon grease. Again, some of you folks that aren't from these parts may find this odd. Trust me when I tell you that this is a long standing tradition in Appalachia. Many meals were stretched by warming up a little of that precious pork grease, adding some flour and milk, and pouring this delicious gravy over some biscuits or even meat and potatoes. Most people pour their clean grease (try to remove any bits of meat) in a Mason jar or grease can. If you happen to save your grease, just warm some up and pour over your greens. </span></div>
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This grease can belonged to Granny Stalcup. </div>
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After she passed, my husband and I chose this, </div>
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a glass cookie jar that was never empty, and </div>
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a coffee cup that Papaw Stalcup always used as </div>
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little tokens to remember them by. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is what The Encyclopedia of Appalachia had to say about wilted lettuce: "Although its origin is obscure, wilted lettuce, also called killed lettuce, has long been a popular and valued food in the region. Because a variety of greens thrive for months in Appalachia, the simple recipe can be used for much of the year. As a stand alone dish, wilted lettuce can be served in lieu of a salad before a meal. As a side dish, it is commonly served with pinto beans. Wilted lettuce is not distinctly Appalachian or American; greens were cultivated and eaten in this manner in Europe for many years prior to the arrival of the colonists in the New World. The dish has also been found in some Native American diets."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do y'all enjoy lettuce and onions? Does your family have a different recipe? </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-51836744191135190902017-06-13T20:25:00.001-07:002017-06-13T20:25:42.353-07:00Words You May Never Have Uttered <span style="font-size: large;">Today's guest post is by Brandi Creasman Watkins, aka Bonnie Sherrill. Brandi was born and raised in the mountains of western NC. After being away for nearly a decade, she returned to her hometown and spent the next decade working in victim services and social work. She retired so that she could focus on her family, Thirty-One Gifts Business and her writing. She started blogging, writing & even published her first book, Mountain Notes to Grant-Writing in 2016. She is now working on the 2nd book in this series, Mountain Notes to Parenting, while she homeschools both of her youngest children. You can find more of Brandi's writings at her blog, <a href="https://acountrygirlsurviving.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">A Country Girl Surviving</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>You may need a passport to enter another country, but you just need an open mind and some gas to reach the South. However, you may experience the same culture shock that you would endure in the Congo or African Sahara – we have similar language barriers and mating habits. You will certainly encounter those that think you should just turn around and head back where you came from. But…just maybe, if you are in the right frame of mind, you will find us just as fascinating as the Amish, the Cherokee, New Yorkers or the Mormons.<br /><br />The single defining characteristic of any foreign culture is language and for real, the Southern language should count for a language in college prep. For example:<br /><br />Befuddled. Definition: confused with a hint of ignorance to the reasoning that X topic is even being discussed. Like…why do you have to discuss ear wax when you could instead discuss the ramifications of Billy Bob thinking that he could fix the leak in his house with anything other than duct tape? This word MUST accompany the gesture of scratching your head at least one time during the conversation.<br /><br />Flabbergasted. Definition: shocked with a hint of anger. You may hear this when a redneck stubs his toe and blames the wife for placing the incriminating obstacle in his path. Apparently, the wife thinks that if something is static for 50 years, her husband should learn to walk around it. Whatever!<br /><br />Spirits. In the south, we refer to all alcoholic beverages as ‘spirits’ because it lifts our spirits to partake. Very simple. However, southerners don’t get the whole wine connoisseur mess….we make our own wine from the fruit that God gave us…right here in our backyards. The idea that ‘wine tastings’ happen, definitely befuddle us.<br /><br />Tattoos. We all run into people and ask them about their tattoos and some get very upset if we insinuate that they had a personal experience with image that they later marked themselves with because they just get tattoos. BUT, in the South, our tattoos mean something. Period. Most may say MOM, some may say F-Obama, but they all mean something to us that will still mean it tomorrow (unless we were drunk.)<br /><br />Mountains. Some may believe that this is a geographical distinction or even a place where they “vacation.” This couldn’t be further from the truth. ‘Mountains’ is a way of life. It’s a religion. It’s a people.<br /><br />Helldamn. Although Webster does not recognize this as a compound word, it is the only compound word that can succinctly describe something that went wrong. This something could have been intentional, stupid or just plain fate.<br /><br />Waterlogged. Definition: a state of being after too many hours in the water. In the olden days, logs were transported via the rivers and they stayed in these rivers for quite some time before they reached their destination. See, our words make sense to us!<br /><br />Church. Definition: The single reason to defuse any argument under the sun. This word is synonymous with the Good Book, the people attending or the very argument that you can’t win. Church is the end all, be-all in the South. You don’t wear jeans to church….ever….under any circumstances. TV Shows do not have any place in a Southern Church – no divorce, no Modern Family, no Law & Order, no Teletubbies. Criminal Minds and other murder shows would be acceptable.<br /><br />Caddywompus. Definition: describes when something is askew or off-centered. For example, I have this retarded tree in my yard that has limbs that are caddywompus and drives me to the brink of a misdemeanor. I would include a picture, but I don’t want to ensue riots, because we don’t have the parking space.<br /><br />Oh Fresh Hell. Definition: A new ‘alternative’ way of thinking, acting or being. A southern woman might exclaim this after seeing her teenager come downstairs in all black attire and make-up or maybe hearing her son exclaim about the newest way to talk to his girlfriend. ‘Oh Fresh Hell’ may be timeless, but the shit it explains is not – just grab a homemade wine, get flabbergasted, drag them to church in the mountains and scream a Helldamn to those that are caddywompus.<br /><br />This post is brought to you by the my personal friends on Facebook! I hope you enjoyed and please let me know if you have some Southern Terms that weren’t included!</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you enjoyed this guest post as much as I did! Brandi and I grew up in the same small town in western NC. I tried to think back to when I first met her but if you were from Andrews, NC everybody just always knew each other. </span><span style="font-size: large;">She is still just as funny as ever! She reached out to me during my last hospital stay and decided that we need to team up to share some of our posts with us both being "small town Appalachian bloggers". I look forward to working with her again and sharing more of her hilarious posts in the future</span></div>
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This is a pic from the area where Brandi & I grew up. Pretty, huh? </div>
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This was taken by my friend and fellow Andrews girl, Tammy West McCoy. </div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-23476706433011339442017-06-07T14:50:00.000-07:002019-05-30T16:19:30.445-07:00A Sweet Lesson In Life <span style="font-size: large;">Today's guest post is by Jequeta Mullins Briskey. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Jequeta was the youngest of 11 children and she grew up in Clintwood, Virginia. She didn't start writing until after she was married and most of her short stories and poems are centered around growing up in southwestern Virginia. She currently lives in northwestern Ohio with her husband, John, and they have 3 children, 8 grandchildren, and 5 great-grandchildren. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>It started back in the early 50s when I was in the fourth grade. My dad decided that he would go into the strawberry business. He thought that it would be profitable and would bring in some much needed money for our family. Not only did he have the space and the know-how to plant the seedlings and bring them to life, but he also had the extra hands to help him with the task. Those extra hands would belong to me and my siblings.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>He picked out a prime spot on our little mountain side farm and prepared if for planting, naturally with our help. I don't recall actually helping to do any of the prep work with the soil, the planting, weeding, and care of those tender plants but somehow they survived. The first year is never great for strawberries but the second year found us working hard at picking the nice red ripe fruit every other day. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Most of those strawberries were for our personal use and we really enjoyed them. After working all morning in the blazing sun on our hands and knees, picking the fruit from those verdant green plants, one would think the last thing on our minds would be eating that fruit. But, knowing that Mom was in the kitchen baking an old fashioned strawberry pie for lunch would make our mouths water. These pies were not like the pies of today with their glaze and piled high with whipped topping. Her pies were made with sweetened cooked strawberries thickened with a flour mixture and poured into a handmade baked shell. They contained no topping and we never asked for a topping because in those days, we didn't know that anything of that sort existed. We accepted what we had and were thankful for it. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>By the third year, Dad's strawberries were producing in abundance. We started letting other people know that we had an excess amount of strawberries and that we would be willing to sell some of them. So, off we went to the fields early in the morning to pick the fruit. We had attained gallon buckets over the past two years in anticipation of this day. These buckets were most likely gallon lard cans or anything of that sort. Each of us would carry a bucket along and we would take what my Dad called a "swath" which was our individual portion in which we were to remove all the ripe fruit, leaving the green ones to ripen for another day. And we were cautioned not to step on the plants as this would likely damage them from producing again. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Dad had told us that we would get paid for helping him with this task. We were allowed to pick one green berry for each gallon bucket we filled and he warned us that he knew our capacity for picking and he would know if we cheated. In one day, if we picked well and fast, we could make a dollar for picking ten gallons of berries, That was a lot of money for us in those days. We felt rich! We didn't think about how long it took for use to make that much money but just having the money was joy beyond compare. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>When we had filled one of the buckets we could pour them into a larger container to be carried down the hill to where our home was. This would eliminate several trips up and down the hill. Eventually, my brother rigged up a pulley system from the house to the top of the hill so we could hang a bucket of berries onto the pulley and lower them down to the house by way of a handle. This sure saved a lot of steps and time for us. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Word got around our community that we had strawberries for sale and people started placing orders with us. Whether it was only one gallon or a huge order of twenty to thirty gallons, we could always fill those orders. Dad would fill the gallon buckets heaping full until the berries were falling off the sides. Then he would transfer the berries over to the containers our customers had brought with them, all the while he would make sure the customer helped him count the gallons so as not to short them on their order. And when it was time for them to pay up, the price was always $1.00 a gallon. In all the years we kept that business going, he never changed the price. Word got around that Dad was very generous and fair and that made more business come our way. Eventually we got to the point of selling thousands of gallons of berries each season.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Mom would never want the first berries in the spring. These were the ones that were bright red and huge. Just looking at them would make your mouth water. Most people would ask for those but not mom. She would always wait until the end of the season when the berries were smaller and a deeper red. Then she would ask for her share of the crop. These late berries had a sweeter taste. Sure, it took longer to clean and process them but it was well worth the effort. The jams and jellies she made from this fruit was the best and it was always a great treat to pull a box of sweetened berries from the freezer on a snowy winter day and taste summer sunshine. I think back on this now when I go out to buy strawberries for myself, might I say at a ridiculous price, and I try to choose the smalls berries in the bunch because I know they will taste the best. </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>This business for us lasted about twenty years. By the time I graduated high school, there were no more children left at home to help Dad and his age had slowed him down. Eventually, he let the strawberry patch go but even after our crops had gone and we no longer kept it producing, we would get phone calls asking if we still had strawberries for sale. I guess Dad had a good idea after all. That business kept our family going for many years all for the price of a few plants, some fertilizer, and several strapping young kids capable of picking their share of red summer sunshine. Oh, the memories it brings for all of us. Thank you, Dad, for teaching us another lesson in life.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope y'all enjoyed Jequeta's short story as much as I did. She couldn't have sent it to me at a more perfect time because I've had strawberries on my mind for the past month! I agree with Jequeta...they do taste like summer. If you missed my post last week and would like to make some jam with all of the strawberries that seems to be poppin' up, you can find my post and recipe for Strawberry Rhubarb Jam <a href="http://www.appalachianmtnroots.com/2017/05/strawberry-rhubarb-pie-plant-jam.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Does strawberries taste like summer to you too? </span></div>
Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-54532056459055986512017-05-31T14:06:00.000-07:002017-05-31T15:16:17.323-07:00Strawberry & Rhubarb (Pie Plant) Jam<span style="font-size: large;">Hey, y'all! I feel like I haven't written a blog post in FOREVER but I needed to take a break. It was nice and I'm ready to get back in to the swing of things. I've missed y'all! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A couple of weeks ago, I went over to my husband's grandparent's old place and came home with some rhubarb! We dug up most of it to transplant it here at the house but ended up with quite a few stalks in the process. I knew exactly what I was going to use it for even before we got our hands on it: strawberry & rhubarb jam! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My great-grandma Collett was the one who introduced this sweet-tart combo to me when I was a little girl. She would make the best strawberry rhubarb cobbler and I loved it from the very first bite. I've always liked the combination of sweet and tart flavors...maybe that's why I love Sour Patch Kids so much! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I was looking for some info about rhubarb, I came across the word "pie plant" in a couple of articles online. I immediately thought of the Little House On the Prairie books! I'm a HUGE Little House fan and recently re-read (for possibly the 100th time) the books in preparation of visiting the Ingall's homestead in De Smet, SD in a couple of weeks. In <u>The First Four Years</u>, Laura was deciding what she was going to fix for the threshers which also happened to be the first meal that she was fixing in her and Almonzo's new home. She said, "There was pie plant in the garden; she must make a couple of pies." She goes on to cook the big meal and accidentally forgot to add sugar to the pies. The threshers were all kind and added their own sugar but Laura was embarrassed by her mistake. Live and learn, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As many times as I've read that book, I never knew what "pie plant" was. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was rhubarb! Have any of y'all ever heard it referred to as pie plant? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once I got home with my rhubarb, I went to our local produce stand for strawberries. They were so pretty! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first thing you need to do, of course, is wash your strawberries and remove the stems and slice them up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used my chopper that you see above to chop those things up! You could do this in a blender or food processor but why dirty up more than you really need to? I just used a little muscle and had those babies chopped up quicker than you could pull out a machine and load it up. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You're going to need 2 cups of chopped strawberries for one run of this jam. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next, you're going to wash and dice up your rhubarb. Not all rhubarb is completely red. If you buy it from your grocery store or produce stand, you'll probably find the red variety because that's what most people want when purchasing rhubarb. There are a few different varieties and mine happens to be mostly green with a little red marbling in it. Whichever type you have, you'll need 2 cups for this recipe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Add your berries and rhubarb to a heavy duty pot. Add 1/4 cup of lemon juice to the mix along with one box of Sure Jell. I also like to add a little butter to prevent it from foaming up as much but this is optional.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV884kPddpFXCsm52_RwraQSj7BKKUoolCZFMPTU0qkUvqw_2V7Xj38rv6gfwP2uugvuwLJMSIu0yk4iYHaVsgt2HAeQwdMmzZK-B7HzCk1uuiCjpSCojn7dZ7YHQETiYlz_cBfSe-erhf/s1600/Lemon+juice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV884kPddpFXCsm52_RwraQSj7BKKUoolCZFMPTU0qkUvqw_2V7Xj38rv6gfwP2uugvuwLJMSIu0yk4iYHaVsgt2HAeQwdMmzZK-B7HzCk1uuiCjpSCojn7dZ7YHQETiYlz_cBfSe-erhf/s320/Lemon+juice.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bring the mixture to a rolling boil, stirring the whole time to prevent scorching. Once the mixture is boiling, add 4 cups of sugar. Bring the mixture back to a rolling boil and, while continuing to stir, boil for 1 minute. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remove from heat and ladle the mixture into hot jars leaving about an inch of space at the top. If you choose not to add the butter, skim the foam off of the top before ladling the mix into your jars. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used both pint and half pint jars. Wipe the rims clean and add hot lids and rings, finger tight. I used this little pot holder that my husband's granny made me to hold the jars while I put on the rings. She is also the one who originally planted the rhubarb. I thought of Granny Jones the whole time I made this jam. I think she would appreciate the fact that someone is still getting get use out of her work.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuH7vljKGRwHC7UFB4LOOVmL9hyphenhyphenMYFuIJ3t8hYq07Xpo41F7ZvcjnFbJhE7G1gufMTLvWjcSpRjcpB5ZSGEHwELW7HSbYYIFPbW-v8-ahHNWi7Gprm9_-INWTxjnR8u57_ryOIe-XpOnQC/s1600/Strawberry+Pot+holder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="928" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuH7vljKGRwHC7UFB4LOOVmL9hyphenhyphenMYFuIJ3t8hYq07Xpo41F7ZvcjnFbJhE7G1gufMTLvWjcSpRjcpB5ZSGEHwELW7HSbYYIFPbW-v8-ahHNWi7Gprm9_-INWTxjnR8u57_ryOIe-XpOnQC/s320/Strawberry+Pot+holder.jpg" width="309" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once you have the jars full and sealed, add the hot jars to a boiling water bath and boil for 10 minutes. Remove from canner and set on a kitchen towel to cool. If you happen to have a jar that doesn't seal, just put it in the refrigerator and use it first! </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkdiD-Q0-TR_sef4exkRjgWG9p5PHs4MCtxLyIfuiACGrfjQWMIdJV2R9Py1HY20afQfuyAvpIaPSGSpiZS5Mp8XPiLXWK1-aPl-CK-KgDYGQUnLave5WAHu6TymdKcyVXfUP1ebzxOvH/s1600/Jars+of+strawberry+rhubarb+jam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="960" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkdiD-Q0-TR_sef4exkRjgWG9p5PHs4MCtxLyIfuiACGrfjQWMIdJV2R9Py1HY20afQfuyAvpIaPSGSpiZS5Mp8XPiLXWK1-aPl-CK-KgDYGQUnLave5WAHu6TymdKcyVXfUP1ebzxOvH/s320/Jars+of+strawberry+rhubarb+jam.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We've really been enjoying this stuff on biscuits and toast. I ended up making three runs and ended up with 4 pints and 12 half pints. One run should make around 6-8 half pints, depending on how much space you leave at the top. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can find the complete recipe below if you'd like to copy, paste, and print it out. Let me know if you make some!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Strawberry & Rhubarb (Pie Plant) Jam</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 cups chopped strawberries</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 cups diced rhubarb (pie plant)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1/4 cup lemon juice</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1 pkg Sure Jell</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1 tbsp. butter (optional- it will help lessen the amount of foam)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bring first 5 ingredients to a boil on high heat. Add sugar & stir until dissolved. Continue to stir and bring to a boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and ladle into clean, hot jars. Wipe rims and add lids and rings until finger tight. Add to boiling water bath for 10 minutes. Remove and allow to cool on kitchen towel. </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6090152875706086653.post-37761785165794641952017-05-15T14:12:00.000-07:002017-05-15T18:24:03.533-07:00Family Heirlooms: Granny's Biscuit Cutter <span style="font-size: large;">Granny has been on my mind a lot lately. Most of you that read this blog via Facebook know that she passed away on April 25th. I feel like there just wasn't enough time for me to ask all the questions that I had about her life. Out of all of us, I believe I'm the one who was always probing for stories about what life was like when she was growing up and everything should could tell me about the rest of the family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I was little, I always watched her flit around the kitchen as she prepared meals for us. When she'd make biscuits she'd use this little metal cutout that had a wooden handle. I thought that it was fascinating that she had a special tool just for cutting out biscuits because I remember my mom using just whatever she could find & it was usually the opening of a cup.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know what prompted me to ask Granny where she got it but she told me that it had belonged to her mother-in-law, my great-granny Fannie. I always thought that was a funny name. She passed when I was around four or so and I remember being confused when she wasn't around. My Dad told me that they took her up to heaven. In my four year old mind, I pictured them packing her up in our big yellow Chevy Malibu and them driving up like Danny and Sandy did at the end of Grease! Ha! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked Granny if I could have it some day. My Uncle Doug (my dad's youngest brother who is more like a brother than an uncle) overheard the conversation and told me that HE was getting it. Now, why in the world would a feller who never made biscuits want with an old biscuit cutter? From that point on, me & Uncle Doug would go back and forth over who was going to end up with Granny's biscuit cutter and Granny would just laugh and wink at me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last week when the family was reading over Granny's will and wishes for her funeral, they came to a section written out for me. She left me a few things but the best part said, "I want Kim to have my biscuit cutter (ha ha, Doug)." She always had a great sense of humor! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweW3BSk7scTWHI0PGgOdnaHiFxsyA3Tr-OKSttPWCuWWbBpFr6epDzT4BJRv8xNl9brjTMGPVOGnPYs7SinIZmVwukDT67sYDvdV8Nn1oguSN_tdx-_h0W2YF46Jb3a8-beBnZgIfk0Z0/s1600/Granny%2527s+Biscuit+Cutter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweW3BSk7scTWHI0PGgOdnaHiFxsyA3Tr-OKSttPWCuWWbBpFr6epDzT4BJRv8xNl9brjTMGPVOGnPYs7SinIZmVwukDT67sYDvdV8Nn1oguSN_tdx-_h0W2YF46Jb3a8-beBnZgIfk0Z0/s320/Granny%2527s+Biscuit+Cutter.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Saturday following my discharge from the hospital, my stomach was still kind of queasy but I got to craving biscuits close to lunchtime. I got out Granny's biscuit cutter and got a little emotional using it. It has been used by three generations of Appalachian women (although I'm the fourth generation to own it) to make biscuits for their families. No amount of money could persuade me to give it up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I decided to send a message to my Uncle Doug to let him know that I was enjoying it. Here it is: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wi0uN-DeLui3jOJF71c_ewrq9nmVhIDIt0bPTaSfeCQvNQLIWNIgT5UiuKrilFXAM3OVpAM19h9gpAmQr7qmGLA085Y4j17iRD0E9ztgQ2LfKinOp1xhTZhyphenhyphend20-leC9uy_DA59hmsTl/s1600/Chat+Convo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wi0uN-DeLui3jOJF71c_ewrq9nmVhIDIt0bPTaSfeCQvNQLIWNIgT5UiuKrilFXAM3OVpAM19h9gpAmQr7qmGLA085Y4j17iRD0E9ztgQ2LfKinOp1xhTZhyphenhyphend20-leC9uy_DA59hmsTl/s400/Chat+Convo.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
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Granny would've gotten a kick out of this!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The biscuits were good but the memories are better. I will think of her every single time I use it. My priceless family heirloom. </span></div>
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Appalachian Mountain Rootshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16369341606269044430noreply@blogger.com0