Irish Tea

IRISH TEA
by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

My sister and I took a heritage tour to Ireland in 1988 with Western Carolina University.  When we landed in Ireland, our tour director served tea and scones in a cute thatched-roof cottage.  I don't drink tea at 11 am, and this was a new experience for my taste buds.

They served strong tea with lots of "rich" milk.  I had never eaten scones and found them to be a bit dry and not too tasty.  This popular pastry was cut into circles, baked, and sliced in half and served with berry jam and stout tea.  The Irish are known for their hospitality and served plenty of this to us Americans.

My sister and I were amazed how they served the Irish tea.  Milk was first poured into tea cups to prevent the hot tea from cracking the china.  What started as a custom to preserve the china, became tradition.  The Irish have discovered that pouring milk into hot tea makes it taste badly.  They call a cup of tea "cupan tae" or "cuppa tay" on the Emerald Isle.  Our tour director told us that "taking tea" is an Irish custom that has been enjoyed for centuries.  Farmers and fishermen drank the hot drink to warm up on cold, winter days.

After our trip to Ireland, my sister and I developed a taste for Irish tea.  We especially enjoy sipping the hot drink during the holidays and munching sugar cookies.  It really "hits the spot" taking hot Irish tea on cold winter days.  It's like a taste of Ireland that we brought home to the United States.

This story appeared online:  "Good Life Tea"
                                               https://www.goodlifetea.com/blogs/news/irish-tea
                                               January 04. 2019

A thatched-roof cottage in Ireland.

An Irish trap transporting "rich" milk to the village.

I wish all my blogger friends a very happy St. Patrick's Day!

The Memorial Sculpture

                                                  Photo by:  Ashley Kairis, staff writer
                                                                    "Clay County Progress"


THE SCULPTURE

At Moss Memorial Library,
a cub sitting on Mama Bear's lap
reading a children's book.

Everett and Jane Devaughn,
pillars in our historic town,
the memorial sculpture at Moss Library.

A hummingbird sipping nectar,
Mama Bear wearing a flower,
a cub sitting on her lap.

Seeking knowledge as silver,
a memorial to the mountain couple,
Mama Bear reading to her cub.
                    --Brenda Kay Ledford

Singing Christmas Tree

Snow usually spread a blanket across the Blue Ridge Mountains in December, but that Christmas in 2,000, seemed like spring.  We wore light-weight clothing and flipped on the air-conditioner.  The forsythias glowed like pots of gold and robins chirped.  Cherry trees bloomed on the streets of Hayesville, North Carolina.

I was in no mood for Christmas, but a friend asked me to join the " Singing Christmas Tree" at Truett Memorial Baptist Church.  We practiced a lot for the program.  Our director wanted us to get the music just right.

Some members quit attending the practice sessions.  I was exhausted after teaching feisty fourth graders, and almost pulled out, too.  I stuck with the program, and finally the music came together.  The director praised us for working hard and predicted it would be a great "Singing Christmas Tree."

We members relaxed and actually began to enjoy the practice sessions.  One person kept us in stitches with his pranks and jokes.  Garland was a born comedian.  One evening he marched into the church wearing a big, shaggy white wig and beard down to his waist.  Everyone including our director had a good, long belly laugh at Garland's "Santa Claus" personification. 

It was just like a miracle when our "Singing Christmas Tree" program came together.  The attendance grew each evening until the fire marshal had to limit the number of people jamming into the church.  Our program was filled with energy and the spirit of Christmas touched me until I was filled with the joy of Christmas.  I'm glad I was part of the program that I'll never forget.

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

This story appeared in "Tis' the Season,"
                                       Old Mountain Press, 2018

                   I wish all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year.  I really enjoy blogging with my friends and visiting your beautiful blogs.

                    Blessings,
                    Brenda

Fabulous Fall

Early this morning,
dewdrops sparkled
like diamonds on the grass.

A cardinal speared
seeds from sunflowers
and twittered autumn's arrival.

Poplars waved golden palms
in the cold wind,
a wedge of geese

honked through the azure skies.
The corn shocks rattled
tambourines in the pumpkin patch,

and Shewbird Mountain
blushed with mauve foliage
as fall made her debut.
           --Brenda Kay Ledford

This poem appeared in "Pancakes in Heaven,"
                                        September, 2018.

I wish all my blogger friends a very happy Fall!

WONDER

As a child savors
her first lollipop
full of wonder
licking her lips

simple joys of nature:
sunflowers pulse on the wind
layers of sapphire mountains
unfurl as a scroll

the wild geese honk in v-shape
marshmallow clouds swirl
through pink lemonade
stars dazzle on black velvet

like a girl tossing glitter
and the Harvest Moon
casting golden coins
on Shewbird Mountain.
           --Brenda Kay Ledford

This poem appeared in:
"West End Poet's Newsletter,"
September/October/November 2018
www.westendpoetsweekend.com

Georgia Mountain Fair

Georgia Mountain Fair
July 28, 2018
Prose Poem

     Mauve-colored crape myrtles, buttery cone flowers, and hydrangea with blossoms large as soccer balls, pulse in the wind.  The human cannonball explodes as the performer whizzes 65-miles-per-hour through the azure skies.  Ripples ricochet on Lake Chatuge, a thousand diamonds sparkle on the waves.  A waterwheel spins, children splash through an icy stream.  You savor a cup of fresh squeezed lemonade.  Viewing the photography show, a pink cloud shaped like an angel dazzles the senses.  Another photo depicts a cherub dancing on a flame in the fireplace.

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

An exhibit of canned goods at the fair.

Beautiful quilts are also exhibited at the fair.

Children enjoy milking the cow at the fair.

The delicious smell of fried apple pies wafts across the fairgrounds.

The Hiding Place

I discovered a treasure within a stone's throw of my home.  It's amazing what you'll find if you take time to savor the beauty of nature.


Off Myers Chapel Road, you'll find this hidden gem.  Three picnic tables overlook Hiawassee River.  The sun shoots fiery arrows on this spot.


I've passed this place many times and wondered why the TVA installed picnic tables.  No shade.  It's not even appropriate for sunbathing.


What's the purpose for this recreational area?  I decided to ascertain the wisdom of spending tax payer's money for these picnic grounds.  I parked my Jeep in the hot, asphalt parking lot.  The picnic tables looked like salt blocks.  I took the path to the river.


A breeze perfumed with honeysuckle licked my skin . It was heaven sent on this hot, summer day.


Water lapped against the bank that was dotted with tiger lilies.  The river murmured and diamonds dazzled on the waves.  It forked and tiny waterfalls tumbled over smooth rocks.


I was mesmerized by the music of the stream.  Tension melted from my body and washed away worry.


I recalled the baptizing our church held.  I sang the hymn, "Shall we gather at the river where bright angel feet have trod..."


Suddenly, I was baptized with peace.  I had found a hiding place to pour out my sorrow.


By:  Brenda Kay Ledford


Reprinted from:  "Into the Coastal Sun," an anthology of poetry and prose,
                              Old Mountain Press
                              2015
                              www.Old MountainPress.com