THE HOLIDAY TOUR

 The Golden Club  was offering a holiday tour of Little Switzerland, NC.  Mama and I donned our Christmas sweaters and boarded the bus.  We were giggling like two children.

A merry group of senior citizens greeted us.  Everyone was decked out in festive garbs.  Some wore reindeer antlers, others were dressed as elves, and ornaments flashed around the necks of passengers.

Anticipation mounted as we crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains.  We were making good time until two women delayed our trip.  The bus waited 30 minutes in the parking lot at Ingles for the ladies.  Finally, they looked in their rearview mirror and discovered the bus was already there.

Someone muttered, "Good night!  Looks like they could have seen something big as a bus!"

Mama and I were so exhausted when we got to Little Switzerland, that we went straight to bed.  At 2:00 in the morning,  Mama headed to the restroom.  She pulled, yanked, and banged on the door.  She couldn't open it.

I was groggy, could hardly speak.  "Mama, stop! That's not the bathroom.  It's the door to the adjacent room.  Those two ladies who  delayed our trip are there."

 Mama muttered something about "the old goof balls," and finally found the door to the bathroom.  Despite the obstacles, we had a jolly, holly trip to the beautiful alpine village that was decorated and decked out like Santa's workshop.

This story first appeared in:  To All a Good Night, a poetry and prose anthology, printed by:  Old Mountain Press.

                               PEACE, JOY and LOVE

                                      to

                        You and Yours

                  THIS CHRISTMAS!

                      Mama and Me Celebrating

                            THE HOLIDAY

November

 The golden glory of fall

retreated to the somber

season of winter's icy hands.

Trees gave up their garments

of bold, gaudy colors,

bronze leaves rode the wind

and spread a patchwork quilt

of brittle foliage across

the forest floor tucking nature

in for a long slumber.

I searched my attic

to decorate for November.

The pilgrims carried a cornucopia,

Native Americans wore deer skins,

orange turkeys bore salt shakers.

Outside my office window,

a flock of wild turkeys marched

to gobble grain scattered when farmers

harvested the cornfield.

                        -Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish my blogger friends a very 

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

In Memory of Mama

 Today if Mama had lived, she would be 101.  She passed away two years ago and I still miss her.  We were best friends, took trips together, went to church together, we enjoyed each other's company.  Some people may think I "should have" gotten over the grief, moved on with life. Sure, life goes on and I must go on, too.  But today I grieve the loss of Mom.  Of course, I believe she's in heaven, but I still miss her.  Always will.  I've written a poem about her and posting it in celebration of precious Mom.

Blanche, Blue Ridge Woman

I am from home-canned jellies,

from Ball jars and Blair food coloring,

I am from a log cabin

tucked away in the Trout Cove.

I am from black-eyed Susans

pulsing in the fields,

I'm from pumpkins and squash

piled in orange and yellow heaps.

I'm from mountain dulcimers,

Granddaddy Shook sawing the fiddle,

clogging in the old red barn.

I'm from  moss-covered rocks,

swimming in Brasstown Creek.

I'm from Shady Grove  Baptist Church,

Richard Powers leading shape-note music,

and Daddy planting crops by the signs.

I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains,

water-bath canning, jars

of peaches  and garden produce

sparkling like gems in the pantry.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

FALLING INTO FALL

 

Gems glitter on grass,

royal-blue ribbons herald fall,

sunflowers drinking light.

A wedge of geese honks,

cornstalks rattle their fingers,

Joe-pye weeds dancing.

Pumpkins dot the patch,

the old wagon is loaded.

Mama's pie baking.

Ghosts fly through the skies,

stars sparkle on black velvet,

a barn owl resounds.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

Wishing all my blogger friends Happy Halloween!

Signs of Fall

     It's beginning to look a lot like fall here in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina.  There's no holding back autumn.  The first trees to turn are the walnuts.  Golden leaves flutter on the wind as the sunflowers lift their cups to drink light.

    A wedge of wild geese honks over the cornfield that glitters like copper.  Goldenrods waltz beside Hyatt-Mill Creek babbling past the Grove Farm.  Shewbird Mountain wears a purple shawl in the distance.  Cardinals spear red berries from the dogwood trees and lilac asters bring bouquets to Swaims Road.

    The evenings grow cooler and our Hayesville High School football team plays their rivals.  Our local church holds a luncheon for the Clay County Schools and I wear gold and black to support the Yellow Jackets.  I pick up a cake at the Ingles Grocery with the message:  Bless our schools!

    Each fall my heart is drawn toward the school.  As a retired educator, I will always long to teach kids.  I can almost smell the chalk, hear the kids treading down  the hall, and standing at the door greeting each child to my classroom.  My heart fills with love for my students.

    Fall is a beautiful season.  I love the bright colors, the wildflowers, football games, pumpkin pie, apple cider, and the Fall Festival held in our mountain town.

    Some call it autumn, others call it God!

Sunflower

 The first sunflower of August 

lifts a cup to drink light,

a Full Sturgeon Moon stamps

its fingerprint on royal-blue skies.

Golden coins spin from trees

on a pine-scented breeze,

walnuts plump to a carpet

of needles, squirrels gather food.

A wedge of wild geese honks

over the cornfield glittering with copper,

lilac asters bring bouquets to Swaims Road

as Hyatt-Mill Creek laughs through

a tunnel of Joe-pye weeds.

The tempo of nature increases:

creatures rush and prepare for winter,

kids get supplies, gear up for school.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish all my blogger friends joy as autumn approaches.

Town Creek--the Little Mountain Stream

 

TOWN CREEK

Goldenrod waltz on the wind,

Tusquittee Mountains stretch their arms

to the crystal-cobalt skies.

The backwoods stream gurgles

over arrowheads the Cherokee Indians

carved at Spikebuck Town.

The poplar trees wave

their golden fans, the earth

cannot hold back fall.

Through the verdant valley,

beside an old-red barn,

the Town Creek murmurs.

She is just a brook,

no one looks up to her.

Wild geese honk in v-shape 

above the Lake Chatuge.

Your waters, little creek,

are the heart of her soul.

             --Brenda Kay Ledford

My daddy was a Baptist preacher.  One of his wise sayings was:  "Little is much if God is in it!"

Chicken of the Woods Mushrooms

 I never saw it coming when Mama asked if I had checked on the chicken.

"No, has it flown the coop? I asked.

She laughed and told me this chicken didn't need deboning or defeathering.  Just pluck it from a dead tree.

"Are you kidding, Mama?  I've never heard of that."

She frowned.  "I thought I had taught my children to identify plants.  Chicken of the Woods is a mushroom."

Chicken of the Woods is fan-shaped and has an orange and yellow colors.  It grows on dead trees.

I gave Mama a puzzled look.  She put on her straw hat and grabbed a basket.

"Come child," she said with her honey voice.  "We'll gather some Chicken of the Woods Mushroom and make a salad for supper."

I learned an important botany lesson that day.  A chicken is not a bird!

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford 

SUMMER SOLSTICE

 

On the first day of summer,

the sun floated like a balloon

above the Bald Mountain

and ricocheted through the forest.

The Tiger lilies lifted cups

to drink the morning light,

a chorus of birds performed

outside my bedroom window.

Warmth wrapped my body

like a blanket as the raindrops

vanished with a wave

of the summer solstice.

The promise of long days

filled my heart with delight

as the sun nourished the crops

and night gave way to light.

                  --Brenda Kay Ledford

Happy Summer to all my blogger friends!

Father's Day

My brother, Harold Ledford, holding his baby granddaughter, Lucy Claire.  Harold was a wonderful father and loving grandfather.  He was softhearted as chocolate melting on a hot sidewalk toward children and animals.  Harold was a perfect example of fatherhood!

My father passed away on Thanksgiving Day in 1988.  My brother, Harold, also passed away two days before Thanksgiving two years ago.  Both of these men were wonderful fathers and loving grandfathers.  I'm so grateful that I had these two kind, gentlemen in my life.  

Fathers are very important.  President Barack Obama said, "Any man can father a child, but not all men are fathers."

The loving presence of fathers in the family is critical in the development of children.  Statistics state that many youth get into crime because they didn't have fathers as role models.  It's also important for little girls to have fathers who are kind to them.  It gives daughters confidence and to one day choose a husband who will love and be kind to the them.

As you can see in this photo, my brother, Harold, adored his little granddaughter, little Lucy Claire.  What a blessing to have such a warm, loving relationship.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.

Brenda Kay Ledford Gives Program for Towns County Historical Society

 Brenda Kay Ledford will also be the featured reader at "Coffee With the Poets," on Wednesday, June 14th, 2023 at the Moss Memorial Library; Hayesville, NC at 10:30 AM.

She will read poetry from her new book, Leatherwood Falls, Blue Ridge Mountain Poems, that was released by Kelsay Books this year.

The public is invited to both of these free events.  An open mic will follow Ledford's reading at "Coffee With the Poets."  This event is sponsored by North Carolina Writer's Network-West.  

My Backyard Zoo

 My Backyard Zoo

The neighbor's lawn mower

mocks my yard popping

up with dandelions.

A bunny rabbit hops

and flips over

the clover-bud mat.

She's an acrobat

performing in time

to a mockingbird rapping.

Gracie, the groundhog,

stretches on her back paws,

then dips and  nips

the heads off buttercups.

No need to trim

this wayward wilderness,

the wildlife knows

a better way

to bright my day!

           

I hope my blogger friends are having a happy day filled with sunshine and beautiful flowers.

Love,

Brenda 

Memorial Day

 

Knockout Roses

On Memorial Day,

dozens of Knockout Roses

explode beside the Burger King.

Customers race past

the fabulous flowers,

too busy to notice

this magnificent garden show.

Roses glow like rubies

in the morning light.

What a sight

for those who will savor

the table that nature spreads.

             --Brenda Kay Ledford

Thank a veteran for his or her service for our country on Memorial Day!

Decoration Day

 

Today I decorated the graves of my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparent.  Many of my relatives are buried at Many Forks Baptist Church Cemetery in the Gum Log section of Towns County, Georgia.

Many Forks Baptist Church holds Decoration Day on the fourth Sunday of May.  Many churches don't hold these occasions anymore.  This is an old-time tradition in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

My family attended the decoration when I grew up in the mountains.  Some people gathered on Saturday before the Sunday event to decorate the graves of loved ones.  On Sunday morning worship service was held in the country church.  After peaching, they held dinner-on-the-grounds.  Back in the 1960's-1970's, they built tables under the shade trees for the lunch.  The mountain women brought boxes of food to spread on the linen-covered tables.  It was indeed a feast.  The women fixed their favorite recipes for the decoration.

You can see in the photo that the women brought a wonderful selection of homemade desserts.  Pies, banana pudding, blackberry cobblers, black walnut cakes, pound cakes, coconut cakes, and many other mouth-watering desserts graced the tables.

After the "feast" folks gathered again in the church for an afternoon of groups singing old-times gospel songs such as "I'll Fly Away, Oh Glory, I'll Fly Away in the morning..."

It was a bittersweet gathering each year.  You honored and recalled your ancestors, had fellowship with kinfolks you hadn't seen for a  long time, and worshipped in the little country church.  The Many Forks Baptist Church cemetery was beautiful with the flowers and American flags decorated the resting places of loved ones.

Many Forks Baptist Church Cemetery beautifully adorned with flowers on Decoration Day.

One of the groups that performed Gospel music on Decoration Day at Many Forks Church.

Mother's Day

 

                                                       Brenda and her Mama Blanche

GARDENING

I put on Mama's T-shirt,

donned her jade jacket

that she wore to garden.

Her sweet spirit remained,

I felt her loving  presence

planting my sunflower seeds.

She savored gardening,

she grew vegetables and flowers,

her favorite color was green.

The wind blew through

grass like waves on the sea,

a royal-blue tent watched

above the Cherry Mountain.

A rain crow resounded

and tranquility filled my soul.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish all my blogger friends a very Happy Mother's Day.

Love,

Brenda 

Flower Chorus

 A canopy of poplar trees

line dancing in key-lime

garments as the songbirds give

a mountain spring concert.

Cody conducts "Lord of the Dance,"

as Nolan plays the flute,

a chorus of tulips bursts forth

from earth's dark tomb.

Dogwoods wash the hills

with snow as trillium

clog in pink slippers,

a doe and spotted fawn

drink from Hyatt-Mill Creek.

A soft breeze brushes my face,

robins hip-hop in verdant grass,

and the chords of nature resound.

                  --Brenda Kay Ledford

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

Brenda 

Brenda Kay Ledford's Book Released

 Brenda Kay Ledford's new book, "Leatherwood Falls, Blue Ridge Mountain Poems," has been released by Kelsay Books.

This book is a memoir of Ledford's brother, Harold Ledford, who passed away two years ago.  He was a US Army veteran of Vietnam and a law enforcement officer in Clay County, NC for 30 years until his retirement.

According to  Glenda C. Beall, North Carolina Writer's Network-West Program Coordinator, "Brenda Kay Ledford takes the reader on a mountain hike where she names the wildflowers, birds, through the eyes of her beloved brother.  She takes us to childhood days  and as he left for Vietnam.  We see an ordinary man who is not ordinary in the eyes  of his sister.  Ledford writes in various poetic forms staying true to  her task of honoring her brother.  Like most mountain families, they are close and death  will never end the love they share."

You may purchase this book at:  www.amazon.com

Brenda Kay Ledford' beloved, big brother, Harold Ledford.

Mountain Spring

 Mountain Spring

Nature pulled out all the stops:

the robins hopping

across the verdant grass,

the mourning dove cooing

in the greening woods,

the chatter of songbirds,

a cloud of blackbirds

soaring over the maples

bursting forth with rubies.

Hyatt-Mill Creek laughing,

the spring peppers croaking,

and the Blue Ridge Mountains

breaking out with new life.

The Bradford pear trees

blooming like ice-cream cones,

jonquils popping up as lemon drops.

The yellow bell bush ringing,

a choir of cardinals singing:

spring pulled out all the stops.

Listen.  Look.  Stop.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

Hopefully, spring is coming early here in western North Carolina.  I hope all my blogger friends will have a beautiful spring soon.

Spring Dreams

 

SPRING DREAMS

Today I dream of spring:

tulips burning like fire

in the majestic mountains.

I celebrate the promise

of spring in midwinter:

the robins singing and flocking 

across my lawn 

like orange blankets.

The purple tulips

will pop up as blackberries

from the hard, cold ground.

"Winter can't last forever,"

the bulbs seem to say.

Knockout roses are just

waiting to put on a show

across the countryside.

The jonquils wearing golden

garments won't be upstaged.

They will spread churned

butter among the verdant grass.

Hold on just a little longer.

Nature gives her promise

that she will breakdance

in bold colors sooner than later.

                    --Brenda Kay Ledford