NC Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green

 North Carolina Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green and Brenda Kay Ledford.

I attended the Multicultural Women's Conference at Hinton Rural Life Center in Hayesville, NC on April 19-20, 2024.  The keynote speaker on Friday was North Carolina Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green.  She gave a marvelous speech encouraging women to "Rise Up to the Power of Stories."  She said we all have a story to tell and highlighted the achievements of blacks in America.

I enjoyed meeting Jaki and consider her to be one of the finest living poets today.  If you have not read her poetry, her books are available on Amazon.com. You may also hear her giving a poetry reading on Youtube.com.  

AN AMAZING SHOW

 Dogwoods take center stage

in the Spring Show,

they wash the mountains

with snow and upstage

the tulips lifting their cups

to drink the morning light.

A chorus of songbirds

perform in the redbud trees

as the trillium join the act

dancing in dainty pink slippers.

Hyatt-Mill Creek laughs

and skips past the Grove Farm

where new-born calves

frolic in the verdant grass.

The rhododendrons and azaleas

line up for the celebration.

An audience dons dark shades,

lifts their heads heavenward

to behold the magical show:

a total solar eclipse.

                --Brenda Kay Ledford

I hope my blogger friends are having a beautiful spring and were able to see the solar eclipse.  We only saw a partial eclipse, but it was still an amazing "sky show."

Brenda Kay Ledford's Story Featured in "When Love Wags a Tail"

 

CELEBRATE SPRING

This morning the sun rose like wildfire over Brasstown Bald.  Hyatt-Mill Creek sparkled as diamonds at the Holcomb Farm.

Black cattle dotted the verdant pasture and songbirds performed a cantata in the woods.  Even the rain crow joined the chorus.

The earth burst forth celebrating spring.  Bradford pear trees licked giant ice-cream cones, the cherry trees danced with pink streamers, and maples wore  strands of  rubies.  Daffodils popped up with lemon drops.

Dogwoods could hardly wait to debut and explode with hundreds of blossoms like crosses.  Tulips lifted weights through earth's dark tomb.  They adorned colorful garments in adoration of new life.  The fragrance of flowers filled the crisp, pure, mountain air.

I savored the first sparrow tail butterfly of spring.  She flitted through the purple phlox.  I chased her across the emerald grass, but she retreated to the forsythia bush glowing like a pot of gold.

The earth threw a party today.  She celebrated new life, beauty, and the joy of God's creation.

I grabbed a bottle of bubbles and blew through the wand.  Dozens of delicate circles dazzled like rainbows and rode the wind.  They rose to the bluebird skies, and still, we rise!

Wishing my blogger friends a very happy Spring!

HAPPY ST. PADDY'S DAY

 

UNICORNS CELEBRATE ST. PADDY'S DAY

Jack Frost threw

a party last night,

thousands of diamonds

sparkle on my lawn.

Whipped cream covers

the limbs of dogwoods,

marshmallow clouds

float through sapphire skies.

My tea kettle hisses,

I sip spiced-apple cider

and hang a shamrock

on the frozen window

flickering with snowflakes.

Winter takes her last stand

and carves ice sculptures

as tulips shiver in the wind.

I huddle under bundles of blankets

and dream of unicorns

wearing emerald shamrocks

on horns glittering with gold.

                    --Brenda Kay Ledford

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY TO MY BLOGGER FRIENDS!

Spring Bursts Forth

 

The pine trees

with their green palms

have kept the faith

during a cold, bitter winter.

This morning bluebirds

lift melodies on a breeze,

jonqils pop up as lemon drops

through earth's dark tomb.

A white-tailed deer

sails over a greening field,

Hyatt-Mill Creek laughing

as bunnies tumble on dandelions.

A blood-red sunrise

sets the mountains afire,

dogwoods wear white crosses

and celebrate the risen Lord.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish all my blogger friends a Happy Easter and beautiful Spring!

Christmas in Matheson Cove

 My new children's picture book, Christmas in Matheson Cove, is at press now.

I'm very excited about the release of my family history story.  Catch the Spirit of Appalachian is printing the book.

More information is upcoming.

Up the Walnut Tree

My sister, Barbara Ledford Wright, is the guest writer on my blog.  She's an award-winning writer and has been published in many journals.  Her story is about our family growing up in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Up the Walnut Tree

Barbara Ledford Wright

    Huck Finn explored the Mississippi River, but Reuben Ledford (our uncle) loped through the Matheson Cove barefooted.  He was born in 1927 in Hayesville, North Carolina.  This story takes place when he was ten years old.

    Reuben hauled his coon dogs in a little red wagon and he smoked rabbit tobacco in a corncob pipe.

    Bob and Minnie Matheson Ledford (Barbara and my grandparents) forbid their children to smoke.  "I'll take you behind the corncrib if I catch you smoking," threatened Bob.

    Reuben snickered and swiped red hair from his freckled face.  He took a pocketknife from his overalls and sliced a Black Ben Davis apple.

    "We want a bite," begged Ronda (Barbara and my father), Ralph, Reba, Rena, Ray, Robenia, and Robert.

    

    "If you want any apples, get'm yourself," said Reuben.

    Reba tattled, "Daddy, Reuben stole an apple from Ed Murray's orchard."  Bob ordered Reuben to march to the corncrib.

    Reuben took off like a jack rabbit and climbed a walnut tree.  It was near the spring.  Minnie dropped her bucket of water.

    "Reuben, get out of that tree!  You'll break your neck."

    "Heck no!  Daddy's going to tan my hide."

    By this time, Bob reached the walnut tree.  He heaved for breath and wiped his face with a red bandanna.

    "Get out of that tree!  I'll whip the shirt off your back when I catch you!"

    Reuben unbuttoned his shirt and slung it to the ground.

    Bob's face turned ruby.  He skidded on a walnut hull and landed on Ole' Blue, the hound dog.  It howled and Reuben laughed.  The children held their breaths.  They couldn't disrespect their daddy.

    Bob struggled to his feet and limped toward the log cabin.  He shook a finger and yelled, "I'll get you, boy!"

    Years later when Reuben was a grown man, he remembered that he got a good switching that day.  His behavior improved and he respected his father from that day on.

This story is reprinted from:  "Our Southern Memories," March-April 2024

If you like this story, please e-mail my sister.  She's recovering from a knee replacement surgery, and would love to hear from you.  Her e-mail is:  bwright22441@gmail.com

 

THE APPALACHIAN SERENADE

 

My mama and daddy when they were married on June 26, 1938 in Towns County, Georgia

                ********************************************************

I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina.  One mountain custom was serenading a newly married couple.  This loud and upsetting event occurred during the night of their wedding.

Shivaree dated back to sixteenth-century France.  A couple was teased on the wedding night.  Appalachian folks called this raucous, spontaneous celebration serenading.

The community serenaded the couple about a half hour after they turned out the lights.  Neighbors circled the house, and made a loud noise.  Folks banged on pots and pans, rang cowbells, and even shot guns.  They shouted for the couple to come outside.

Sometimes the serenaders carried the bride in a tub, and the groom rode a rail.  One custom including parading the couple to the country store where they were treated to snacks.

The community serenaded Mama and Daddy (Blanche and Rondy Ledford), when they married on June 26, 1938.  Neighbors circled the red-plank house.  They banged on dishpans, sang, and rode my parents across Swaims Road in wheelbarrows.

After the serenading, they held a shindig.  The mountain women prepared tons of food for the celebration. Mrs. Lacey Groves, a neighbor lady, brought her delicious, made-from-scratch marble pound cake.  The men picked guitars and sawed fiddles while folks danced the night away.

This old-time mountain tradition has passed away, but remains as a favorite memory how the community serendaded newly married couples.

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

This story appeared in:  Our Southern Memories Journal; Volume 18, January/February 2024