Monday, November 30, 2015
Not a sound
in the Matheson Cove,
snow glowing on black velvet,
cattle kneel at midnight.
Rabbit tracks zigzag
across the Shewbird Mountain,
wood smoke curves heavenward,
icicles dangle from the log cabin.
A hickory log flickers
in the fireplace,
corn pone bakes in the Dutch oven,
paper chains and popcorn
drape the fir tree.
Younguns toss in feather beds,
listen for reindeer on the roof,
will Santy Claus find the cove?
Early Christmas morning,
cranberry skies spill across
the Blue Ridge Mountains
echoing with sleigh bells.
Ronda, Reba, Ralph, Reuben,
Rena, Robert, Robenia, and Ray
grab goodies from their stockings:
apples, oranges, hazel nuts,
candy canes, peppermint drops, toys
Pa carved in the woodshed.
Before dinner Ma reads
the story of baby Jesus.
Robert gets his fiddle,
voices blend with carols.
An old-fashioned Christmas,
come to the manger!
--Brenda Kay Ledford
My mom ( Blanche), and I wish all our blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and joyful New Year!
Thursday, November 12, 2015
A replica of the Statue of Liberty and an old tractor grace the front of this historical building.
Bruce Davenport of Hayesville, owns this barn and has restored it. He and his family decorate it seasonally. The old girl shines in all her glory at Christmastime.
It's ironic that Bruce placed the Statue of Liberty in front of the barn. In the Blue Ridge Mountains, the barn was central to farm life. Here the mountaineers stored hay, housed the livestock, milked cows, fed cattle and horses grain, cleaned the stalls, shucked and shelled corn, and stored the tools to upkeep farm equipment. Work. Always work.
The good old days were hard. There was hardly any leisure time for the farmers. In this sense, I think freedom is a good symbol for the old barn. Freedom from working sunrise to sunset on the farm, digging a living out of the earth is a good theme to preserve.
I love old barns and this is one of my favorite in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina.
In the gap of Shewbird Mountain, I revisit the old home place. Perhaps it is the taste of churned buttermilk, the smell of cornbread b...
Wood smoke spiraling like India ink from a log cabin flips back a page from the past. Grandma Minnie bowed over a quilting ...
I love the bright colors of fall and the cool air. Yesterday I grabbed my camera and rambled around my yard taking photos. I discovered ...
The Blue Ridge Mountains unfurl royal blue ribbons, ancient; carved from granite; patchwork farms dot the cove. Cornfields sway like ...