Blind Pig & The Acorn

Appalachia Through My Eyes - Mother's Day

Mother's Day in Appalachia is wearing red or pink flowers if your Mother is still among the living; it's wearing white if she's gone on to wait for you on the other shore. Mother's day in Appalachia is potted flowers and plants or maybe a new apple tree. It's small hands dipped in paint and pressed on construction paper. It's misspelled words full of love and cards that cost way too much. Mother's day in Appalachia is about gathering at Momma's-Granny's-Mamaw's-Nana's on Sunday afternoon for food love and thankfulness.

Happy Mother's Day to all Blind Pig readers who are Mothers, Grandmothers, or both!

Tipper

Appalachia Through My Eyes - A series of photographs from my life in Southern Appalachia.

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Easter In North Carolina

The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore has this to share about Easter:

At Easter the children always select a nest for the rooster to lay in, and on Easter morning they visit it to find colored eggs. Egg hunts are the usual thing, and at these the children "pip" eggs with each other. Each takes an egg and they crack the eggs together to see which will not get broken. Various games are played. Everyone in the community serves eggs prepared in various ways at all the meals on Easter Day. (Gertrude Allen Vaught)

At Easter people appear in new clothes if possible. (Elsie Doxey)

Easter eggs may be died yellow with Hickory bark. (Zilpha Frisbie)

Take bark or old walnut hulls and boil them in water. Then strain off the water and you have a brown dye. My grandmother used to make this dye for dyeing yarn. She also used it for coloring Easter eggs. (Eleanor Simpson)

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All of the quotes from the book make sense in present day Appalachia-well except the part about the rooster laying in the nest. I wonder if that was a typo, if she misspoke, or if it was some sort of inside joke because even children would have known roosters don't lay eggs. 

Tipper

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Wear Green Or Be Pinched!

This post was originally published here on the Blind Pig in March 2009.

St. Patrick's Day is set aside to honor St. Patrick, who was born around 385 C.E. As a young man St. Patrick was kidnapped and forced into slavery. During this time he came to depend on God, as he had nothing else to believe or hope in.

After escaping from captivity, St. Patrick became a Priest and was commissioned by the Pope to spread Christianity through out Ireland. St. Patrick spent the rest of his life traveling the country doing the work of God.

St. Patrick died on March 17th-after his death he was proclaimed the Patron Saint of Ireland and the day was set aside to honor him forever more.

In Ireland St. Patrick's Day is still celebrated as a religious holiday. Here in the US, some view St. Patrick's Day as a time for a good party, others eat a traditional dinner of corned beef and cabbage to celebrate the day.

When I think of St. Patrick's Day the first thing that comes to mind-is if you don't wear green you get pinched! I remember in Elementary School it was a big deal-you had to make sure you remembered to wear green-or suffer the consequences. As I recall the bus ride home was the worst place for getting pinched-as the ever watching eyes of the teachers were not present.

I did learn something new from researching St. Patrick. If someone pinches you and you do have green on-you get to pinch them back 10 times! Wonder if I should share that tid bit with the girls in preparation for St. Patrick's Day?

I ask Granny and Pap if the "pinching" went on when they were kids. They both said they didn't even know there was a St. Patrick's Day until they were grown. How about you-ever been pinched for not wearing green?

Tipper

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Old Christmas

Today, January 6th, is celebrated as Old Christmas by some folks. Truth be told, I never even heard of Old Christmas until I started the Blind Pig. 

This website gives a fairly clear explanation for January 6th being called Old Christmas. In a nutshell the term came about when the Julian Calendar was switched over to the Gregorian Calendar. Before the calendar change, Christmas fell on January 6th-after the change many people kept the old day of Christmas instead of moving the day to December 25th as the new calendar suggested. Old Christmas came along to Appalachia with those first settlers from the British Isles-like so many of our other traditions.

John Parris explains Old Christmas in western NC very well:

But in another age-back when a changing world walked ever so slowly in the hidden hills-many a mountain family celebrated Jan. 6 as the day of our Lord's birth.

They came of English or Pennsylvania Dutch stock and they passed on to their children some of the ballads and folklore their forebears fetched over from the Old Country.

When my grandfather was growing up a hundred years ago over in the Macon County hills, many a mountain family still clung to the old tradition.

"When I was a boy," he used to recall, "a heap of folks kept Christmas on Jan. 6. The old folks said it was the real Christmas. They argued that the Christmas we've come to keep on Dec. 25 was a man-made Christmas."

Unlike New Christmas with its gaiety and feasting, Old Christmas was celebrated with prayer and choral-singing.

To the folks of that long ago era there were 12 days of Christmas beginning Dec. 25 and ending Jan. 6.

On Old Christmas Eve, just before the clock on the fireboard scratched for midnight, the family gathered about the hearth. There was the telling of The Story and talk of the night when miracles come closest to earth. The old ones told the young ones if they would go out at midnight they would see cow brutes and nags kneeling. They said that all the cattle and horses everywhere stood up and then lay down on the other side. This, the old one said, was the sign that Jan. 6 was for truth our Lord's birth night.

They said too that alder buds burst and leafed out on Old Christmas Eve and that the bees would roar in the bee-gum like they wanted to swarm. Some said that water turned to wine at midnight of Old Christmas. My grandfather said he never believed this, albeit he went to the spring many a time just to see.

There were those who said it was bad luck to watch for Old Christmas signs a-purpose. "If you just happen to see a sign, it's all right," they said. "But if you try to watch, somethin's liable to get you."

Except for the water-into-wine belief, Grandpa held with the other signs. "I've seen the cows get down on their knees," he said. "And I've heard the low mooin' of the cows and the whinny of the nags in the night of Old Christmas Eve. Right at midnight that was. Then they all got quiet. I knew other folks who had seen it too."

With the arrival of Old Christmas, many a family brought out a jug of sweet cider and sang:

Love and joy come to you, And to your wassail too And God bless you and send you A happy New Year, And God send you a Happy New Year.

Have you ever celebrated Old Christmas? Or knew someone who did?

Tipper

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*Parris, John. Old Christmas These Storied Mountains. 1972. Print.

Eggnog

Do you like eggnog? Truth be told-I never even tasted it until Chatter claimed she liked it a few Christmases ago. I don't have a clue where she tasted it-maybe at Nana's?

Anyway, every Christmas since then she's asked me to buy her a small carton during Christmas. Maybe it's just me-but I swear it tastes like milk mixed with paint thinner. 

So this year when she asked me to buy some-I said lets try to make it homemade. I found a recipe online-and then we tinkered with it slightly.

We used:

• 4 egg yolks
• 4 egg whites
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 2 cups milk
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla

Separate the egg yolks from the whites; beat the egg yolks well; reserve the whites in the frig for later.

Add sugar-mix till light and creamy.

Heat milk, cream, nutmeg, and vanilla. Bring mixture to a boil-then remove from heat. 

Add a little of the hot mixture into the egg/sugar mixture and stir well. Gradually add all the egg/sugar/milk mixture into the hot mixture stirring constantly. 

The recipe we found online said to heat the mixture until it reached 160 degrees. We used a thermometer-but it was pretty much that temperature after just a minute or two on the heat.

Transfer the mixture to a bowl or other container and chill. 

After the mixture is chilled and you're ready to drink the eggnog-beat the reserved egg whites until they reach the stiff peak stage.

Whisk the stiff egg whites into the chilled mixture.

Serve eggnog with a sprinkle of cinnamon or nutmeg on top.

Now I can see why Chatter likes eggnog-anyone would like this eggnog. The stiff egg whites made it very thick-but we didn't mind. But once the leftovers sit in the frig overnight-they weren't near as thick.

Obviously we made the non-alcoholic version-but I suppose you could add the traditional brandy or whiskey if you wanted too.

So do you like eggnog?

Tipper

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Two Days After Christmas

Today's guestpost was written by B. Ruth. She was inspired to write it after I posted about our Christmas trek though the snow 2 years ago.

Two Days After Christmas or In Cougars we trust… written by B. Ruth.

Two days atter Christmas
When all thru the woods, 

All critters where stirring,
in our neighborhood…

The stockins’ come down from 
the chimley whar warmed.
In hope of a jaunt in the snowstorm.

The young’ns were restless all tired of their sleds
as visions of snow cream danced in their heads..

And Ma in her kerchief since she lost her hat.  
Pa pulled on his bootstraps, he’ll find it ..I’d bet!..

When out on the trail there arose such a clatter
But it was just jawin' from Chitter and Chatter!

Away to the forked path, which way should we turn.
Leftways or rightways we had something to larn...

Them flurries they fell on the breast of the snow, 
Give such a glisten to limbs that hung low...

When what to our wanderin’ eyes should appear, 
Trace of a cotton-tail, "Yes dear, right thar!"

Tippers’ shutter was goin’ click, click, click!
Deer hunter come up to them lively and quick!

When huge paw prints come close into view, 
he whistled and shouted, 
“See here you two!”

I’d say its a 'Panter' or 'painter', cougar or cat tracks,
But I’m not too sure, let's think about that..

As he was lookin’ he called them by name, 
“No Stasher, no Boomer, No ‘coon, or Coyote that’s been lamed…
Nor Br’er bear, ‘ner fox vixen or Civet, or deer
"I'm bamboozled, but don’t panic, Ya hear!"…

As thoughts of the animal swirled all about, 
The wind hit blowed thus with no doubt,  

Obstacles flew like the screams of the girls 
to mount in the sky and “boogered“ their curls!

To the top of the ridge, to the top of the bald,
"Stop eating the snow Chitter we have to go!"

So onward they plod, the left course did choose,
Pa shouldering his ‘smoker’ and skinnin’ knife too…

And then in a inklin’ the paws they did cross, 
It had leaped ore the path a ways where they’d walked.

As I drew in my breath and was turning around,
In the curve of the roadway “spooked” prints did abound!  

Dressed all in fur, from its head to its foot, 
Tawny, long whiskered, long tail, hope it stays put!...

A bundle of mystery was too soon forgotten.
The crunch of the snow, made us tighten our 'boggans.

Their eyes how they twinkled, their words were so cheery,
Remember White Christmas and hold to those dearly.

Until the tracks again were drawn in the snow, 
They came from above us to stalk us below!

A thought was inspired as Pa said tongue-in-cheek,
"If hit’s an Ewah, it may have no teeth!"...

Deer Hunter’s so funny, the girls laughed it’s chilly, 
The way to the house is long and its hilly.

We jumped it I know n’since it has snowed,
The tracks may foller us all the way home!

A blink of her eye and a step on ahead, 
Tipper was footin’ it to tell Pap what’d been said.

They spoke not a word as downward they worked,
Hoping that no one would think them as jerks!

And layin’ the questions aside for a pose,
An aura gave nod up the mountain arose,

A squall from the treetops encircled the earth, 
Away we flew home ending the search!

No huntsman has seen one I’ve heard them explain, 
I’m sure that the spirit of Cougars remain...

Fer when we retired and the coats were all hung...
A 'Paniters' short hair was wedged on the heel of the gun!..

                             written by B. Ruth

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Hope you enjoyed B.'s Christmas tale as much as I did! If you missed my post about mountain lions and snow that first inspired her to write it-go here to read it. 

I never did find my hat that I lost on the Christmas hike. Maybe some critter drug it back to their house. I hear some of you are expecting snow or have already gotten some-I'm hoping we get at least one big snow this winter-so send some my way if you get tired of it!

Tipper

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Boxing Day

Today, December 26th, is celebrated as Boxing Day in a handful of countries. According to the website Christmas Customs, Boxing Day started in the UK over 500 years ago. The following is a short quote from the website about Boxing Day:

It was the day when the alms box, collection boxes for the poor often kept in churches, were traditionally opened so that the contents could be distributed to poor people. Some churches still open these boxes on Boxing Day.

It might have been the Romans that first brought this type of collecting box to the UK, but they used them to collect money for the betting games which they played during their winter celebrations!

In Holland, some collection boxes were made out of a rough pottery called 'earthenware' and were shaped like pigs. Perhaps this is where we get the term 'Piggy Bank'!

The Christmas Carol, Good King Wenceslas, is set on Boxing Day and is about a King in the Middle Ages who brings food to a poor family. 

It was also traditional that servants got the day off to celebrate Christmas with their families on Boxing Day. Before World War II, it was common for working people (such as milkmen and butchers) to travel round their delivery places and collect their Christmas box or tip. This tradition has now mostly stopped and any Christmas tips, given to people such as postal workers and newspaper delivery children, are not normally given or collected on Boxing Day.

We don't celebrate boxing day-nor do I know anyone who does. But I did get a whole set of small boxes for Christmas.

On the last day of school before Christmas break, Chatter and Chitter's school had a school wide party. Chatter said while most of the kids ran around acting crazy-she went to the area set up as a craft center and learned how to make the adorable paper boxes from another student's Mom. 

Chatter put my handmade necklace in the smallest box and then put the boxes inside each other like a set of nesting dolls. 

If anyone is interested in learning how to make the boxes-let me know and I'll see if Chatter will show us how-she says it's easy.

Tipper

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Merry Christmas From The Blind Pig Gang

A few of the regulars wanted me to pass along their Christmas wishes to you:

*The Deer Hunter said: Merry Christmas and tenderloin to all.

*Chitter said: May all of your Christmas Dreams come true-God Bless You.

*Chatter said: Thank you for all the support-Merry Christmas!

*Pap said: Merry Christmas and don't bust your belly eating too much like I'm going too.

*Granny said: Christmas Gift! Stay by the fire where it's warm.

*And I say- On this special day I hope you're able to hush the noise and hear clearly the song of love which sings all around you and yours. 

Tipper

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Christmas Eve

Steve at Christmas late 60s or early 70s

Chatter and Chitter are too old for Santa stories-but we still tease them about Ho Ho coming anyway. Truthfully-we never told them Santa Clause was real-they knew from the beginning the fat man in the red suit was just a fun game of pretend.

Granny likes to tell the story about Steve thinking he seen Santa. It was after a church Christmas play and as he ran outside he swore he seen Santa-sleigh-and reindeer fly over the top of the church.

When me, Steve, and Paul were growing up, Granny would try to tell us about Santa-but Pap would always tell us it just wasn't true. After I was grown he told me "I never could give you and your brothers much and I wasn't about to let somebody else take credit for what little I could give you."

Yet there is magic at Christmas. For believers it's the reason for the season-the birth of our Savior-doesn't get no more magical than that. It's a time for us to remember and celebrate his birth and the good wishes the Angels brought from on high-Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Over the last several days, a few commenters have touched on the magic I've been thinking about-the things people do-never realizing the impact they have on others. 

Teachers-preachers-soldiers-firemen-policemen-emergency workers-etc. are at the top of the list of unsung heroes who do good deeds for no other reason than they need doing.

The Blind Pig commenters made me think of people who touch our lives in simpler ways-like B. Ruth volunteering to make Christmas ornaments at her son's school-then being rewarded years later when a lady told her those days were among her favorite school memories. 

If you live in Western NC you might have heard of E.J. Whitmire-there's even a stadium named after him at WCU. E.J. was a farmer and my mountain holler is tucked in behind his farm in Cherokee County. He first started the farm in 1954. Over the years, Pap worked for him-as did several other family members. 

E.J. lived in Franklin-but since he spent considerable time here-he had a farmhouse and since it is such a large cattle farm (over a 1,000 acres) there are many outbuildings and barns. 

In my growing up years, E.J.'s main workshop was right close to the highway-just a hundred yards or so after you turn onto the main highway going towards Martins Creek. The building is small-and has a gabled roof porch on the front of it. I used to think it looked like one of the Cartrights lived there and that Little Joe might come out if I watched close enough. 

Every Christmas, E.J. decorated the porch-there was a tree and tinsel-I swear it looked just like a Christmas Gingerbread House. Looking back I can see he must have decorated it for the local kids-since his children/grandchildren didn't live here.

E.J. died in 1998. The last time I saw him I was pushing Chatter and Chitter down the road in their big bulky double stroller. He stopped to tell me he didn't know we had twins in the holler and to tell me what pretty girls they were.

The farm no longer uses the little workshop-it's fallen into disrepair since they've moved operations to bigger newer digs. But every Christmas, I find myself glancing over that way-looking back in time to see the Christmas Spirit E.J. shared with me-even though he never even knew how much I liked it.

Tipper

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A Foxfire Story Of Christmas

 

As I said yesterday, I've been re-reading The Foxfire 40th Anniversary Book. The book has several pages of Christmas stories. Some of the stories were documented by Foxfire students as far back as the early 70s.

All the stories are touching-some humorous-some downright sad-but all enjoyable reading for these days before Christmas. 

It would be hard to pick a favorite Christmas story from The Foxfire 40th Anniversary Book, but one I especially liked was from G.A. Nasworthy, Jr. in 2005. 

In the beginning lines, G.A. tells about his father working by day as a meat cutter at Winn-Dixie and by night as a farmer on their farm. In 1957 his father was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx which changed all of their lives. The rest of G.A.'s story:

"He had to have his larynx removed. He could not talk, but he could write notes and things like that. He just couldn't talk when they took his voice box out. He never had the speakers, though. He learned to talk without'em. He'd have him a five-gallon bucket while he was out plowin' at night, and if he wanted somethin', usually a cup of coffee, he'd beat on that bucket. When I heard that bucket, I knew he wanted somethin'. As he learned to talk-they taught him to talk using air-you had to really listen to him. His voice was real raspy and low, but it got to the point that I could be way on the other side of the room, and I could understand everything he said.

My dad had had a laryngectomy. He had insurance, enough that could take care of his speech and for what he had been through with his surgery, but that was all. He was not working.

This Christmas, somehow or 'nother, Mom and Dad had got across to us that we didn't really have money to do much of a Christmas. So my sister, who was about three years older than me, we were pretty well resolved. You know, we were owed nothin'.

And so Christmas mornin' we had a little bitty tree on top of the TV. Christmas mornin', we go ahead and get up, and we come in the middle of the room. My mom and dad were sittin' at the kitchen table havin' coffee. My dad was a big coffee drinker. He 'saucered' the coffee. He'd boil it hot as he could, and he'd pour it in a saucer and blow it, so we always called it 'saucered' coffee. But he had already had his coffee when we came in. We'd glanced at the little tree. We were thinkin', well, maybe there was somethin', but we didn't see anything-just the little tree there and the two little sleighs. And so we headed into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

We started eating, and I think Mama...no, I believe it was Daddy said somethin' about "Well, did you check the Christmas tree?" And we said, "Yes sir, we saw it when we came by it." And he said, "Well you didn't see anything on it?" We hadn't seen nothin'. He said "Maybe you oughta go back and look again." So we jumped up and ran back in there to see if there was somethin'. We looked; we didn't see nothin'. So we go back to eat breakfast 'cause we didn't see nothin' there. So Mama said "Well you need to go back and look...look a little more." So we went back and started lookin' again. 

My sister finally saw it: two watches. They were hung on the little reindeer-a lady's watch and a man's watch. Dad and Mama had got their watches fixed and gave them to us for Christmas." 

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If you've never read any of the Foxfire Books-I highly recommend them. You may be like I was-and not realize the great Foxfire folks are still cranking those books out. Click here to jump over and visit the Foxfire online store.

Tipper

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