CHRISTMAS ON BLURRY MOUNTAIN (1 of 4)
[Following is almost a love story (in more ways than one) and would be appropriate to read aloud to your children or grandchildren. Driving home from Western North Carolina a month ago on a heavily overcast day the Smoky Mountains did not look smoky, but blurry. We thought it would make a good title and wrote it on a scrap of paper.]
When the sun is shining on a fresh spring day one can sit on the back porch and see perhaps 100 miles, but to make out trees and boulders … maybe 30. On those occasions, with a cup of coffee in hand, one might imagine it a kingdom. Indeed it is. We own this land and its view of the world. Four generations of Hughes have been born, raised, wed, and died in this place. There is no joy without pain.
So when the sun is shining on a fresh spring day the clouds look like smoke at the peaks of the mountains. But on a dull Fall day when it is raining and storming the peaks appear blurry, as though your eyes cannot focus. The peaks, and sometimes our farm, appear hidden behind some invisible screen, cut off from the rest of the kingdom. Therefore, the original Hughes called his mountain estate “Blurry Mountain.” Actually he didn’t. He called it “Mynydd Aneglur” in his native Welsh tongue. Being from the Island of Ynys Mon, he knew how to handle the cold and about weather so severe that one could not see one’s surroundings. His wife gave it the English translation. You couldn’t call him a realist, because a realist would never choose such a desolate place to call home.
Even birds abandoned it when the frost first appeared. In fact, when the Flickers arrived for mere days in Fall the occupants knew it was time to prepare. Flickers are a bit skittish. They fly away at any movement. They like our kingdom on their own terms. A few nights to restore themselves with worms from the soil (since the beetle larvae in the trees have not developed yet) and then they continue on their journey south to warmer climes. Flickers are the only woodpeckers with brown backs. They do have a light patch of red on their heads, a white rump while in flight, yellow under the wings, and a black crescent on the breast. So many colors and patterns for a single species. They are also an omen that inhospitable weather will soon encase our farm.
Its not much of a farm either. A few herd animals, chickens, two draft horses to pull plough (how our family spelled it) or wagon, a substantial garden where potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cabbages, onions, and other hardy essentials were harvested as soon as the nights threatened frost. Three apple trees produced “early” apples which allowed us to can apple sauces and to freeze slices for mid-winter treats.
Between the barn and back porch was strung a wire rope. Grandpa had made sure the connection points were reinforced to take a beating. In good weather it held a trolley to make moving firewood or 60 pound bags of chicken feed easier. When fog was thick or snow was blowing so hard that one could not see, the person heading to the barn would attach a line to the wire so as to not veer from the path and be lost in the cold. Sometimes the wind blew so hard that you could hardly hear your own voice. No one would dare venture to rescue you without losing themselves. Precautions were made, and lives were saved.
SUMMER
The very first day of Spring the greenhouse was repaired (not much needed to be done) and soil was poured into the potting containers. By the end of the week tomatoes and other transferable plants were seeded. The greenhouse would give us the three or four weeks we couldn’t afford to lose. Spring came late and Fall came early on the mountain. Frost was possible even in summer.
The animals enjoyed the small pen next to the barn as soon as the mountain allowed. Feeds were placed there to entice them into the fresh air. At night, of course, they found the inside much more comfortable. Birthing would probably be done in the barn again this year as it was too chilly outside for the health of the calves. The horses were eager for the fields but it was dangerous because of the slippery frost a few inches below the surface. So, they too were restricted to the fenced area nearest the barn.
The Hughes family enjoyed pork, of course, but there just wasn’t enough space to raise pigs. Rather, there WAS enough space, if one wanted to trudge another 60 yards beyond the barn in the dead of winter to feed and care for them. Pigs eat a lot of food. It had been tried one year and never again. So, in early Spring our family would trade a young cow for a young pig. The pig ate most of the scraps (chickens ate the remainder). In Fall we butchered the pig to provided much of what we needed in the cold months. The cold provided a “freezer” to hold it all, too.
When the frost left the soil and the track was clear of drifted snow it was safe to travel to town for the few supplies we could not provide for themselves like flour, sugar, salt and canning lids before the price went up. We also needed spices because winter meals became wearisome without them. Although Spring, we had yet a month or so of “winter” food to finish. Too much cabbage last fall meant lots of sour kraut and pork meals yet to be had. We had several root vegetables remaining. Meanwhile the apple supply had run out and fruits were eagerly desired.
The warmer months were hard working months. There were daily chores, of course, but also repairs, maintenance, setting gardens, weeding, cutting logs, and canning what we could.
Although busy, late spring through early fall was when they were able to attend church. It felt good to be together with other believers. Pa got a chance to renew long friendships with the valley farmers and catch up with the gossip. Ma joined the Sunday afternoon sewing circle. It was almost a valley contest to see who could imagine the date this mountain family would show up. Young William Hughes was bigger and stronger than last summer, having grown into a new size over winter. The others his age hadn’t found their spurt yet. That’s the way of 12 year olds. Some remain their old size for a while longer; others turn into bean poles.
[PLEASE NOTE that Don is always open to discussing the thoughts and opinions he shares here and welcomes comments as shared in the comment section. He doesn’t use other social media platforms and won’t see whatever you’d like to share with him if you post it elsewhere.
ALSO, Don is always open to offer his thoughts on various topics. If you have a specific request, you can let him know in a comment; he reads – and replies to – them all. ~ Sherry]
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