Wednesday, February 1, 2023
Tuesday, December 20, 2022
Wishing all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Some of you may subscribe to the "Good Old Days Magazine." My story, "Special Fashion Show," appeared in the January/February 2023 print issue. If you get the magazine, you might want to read my true story about hand me down clothes.
Peace and Joy to you this season!
Friday, December 2, 2022
Snowflakes twirled like feathers over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Christmas was coming in two days and I had a bushel of clothes to wash. I lugged my baskets into the laundry mat. A little blonde-headed girl held the door. Her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled.
She watched me put my laundry into the washing machines and asked my name.
"Brenda. What's your name?"
"Kristy, and I'm five," she said and held up her hand.
Ornaments glittered on the tiny Christmas tree that the attendant put on a table. I hummed, "Jingle Bells."
Kristy gazed at the tree with sad eyes. "I won't have Christmas."
An elderly lady limped to Kristy and hugged her. "It's okay. Don't cry, baby."
I gave the woman a sympathetic look. "Are you her grandmother?"
"Yes, she lives with me. Her parents died in a car crash. We won't have much of a Christmas. Can't afford it."
When the little girl and her grandma left the laundry mat, the attendant told me they lived in a modest house on Shooting Creek. She whispered that at one time they parked a car in the woods and lived in it.
Our church filled a box with canned goods, gift cards, and wrapped presents for Kristy. We delivered the box on Christmas Eve.
Little Kristy clapped her hands and ripped the paper off her presents. She danced across the porch with her doll and teddy bear. She had a joyful Christmas!
by: Brenda Kay Ledford
This story appeared in "Joy to All," a poetry and prose anthology, printed by: Old Mountain Press
I wish all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and Joyful New Year!
Tuesday, November 1, 2022
November drapes the Blue Ridge Mountains with a tapestry of maroon, gold, and brown. It weaves a mat of tan threads on the soybean field that's ready to harvest.
Two squirrels chase each other around a tree trunk, leap on a carpet of leaves, and scamper with walnuts into the woods. The waking sun ricochets through a handful of golden foliage.
Autumn fades into earth tones. These butternut colors depress some people because they announce the arrival of winter.
But my daddy's favorite color was brown. He ran a bulldozer and loved the dirt. Maybe it's because he was down-to-earth and made no pretense. Kind, generous, and grateful were his qualities.
He passed away on Thanksgiving Day. This holiday will always hold a hollow place in my heart. If it had been possible, Daddy would have chosen this day to enter heaven.
Created from the earth, returning to the earth, and springing forth from the earth. The cycle of life.
It's no wonder Daddy's favorite color was brown.
I wish all my blogger friends a blessed Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, October 19, 2022
This is a fictional children's story about Punkin' Chunkin' and I've written the story in the voice of my Great-Niece, Reagan.
"We're going to the Punkin' Chunkin'," said Mama.
Little Reagan Blanche had never seen a pumpkin.
Dada drove up and up and up the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Pumpkins soared, sailed, and somersaulted through the blueberry skies.
Pumpkins rolled with a thunderous roar and splish splashed.
Dada gobbled, gorged, and goooooed pumpkin pie.
An airplane buzzed.
"Let's ride the plane," said Mama.
Watercolors plunk-plopped the trees.
People looked like ants on the ground.
A mechanical bull bar-bucked Dada.
Reagan Blanche fell asleep.
She dreamed of pumpkins zigzagging.
Pumpkins zip lining the mountains.
Thursday, September 22, 2022
Friday, August 26, 2022
A one-roomed schoolhouse where many mountain children learned the 3 R's.
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