The Rock Piles of Appalachia

One of the more charming aspects of living in Appalachia are the stories. When I first heard John Denver sing that "...life is old there" (Country Roads, 1971) it was a truth I didn't have the means to appreciate. Yet. I'm learning that now through the sights and sounds and tastes and endless stories.

Everything has a story here... even the rock piles.

Most often the ones I see have a logical and evident explanation. They've been chiseled and then dry stacked as fences, retaining walls, foundations, stairs, road surfaces and structures. The early American settlers were surely not strangers to hard physical work. Think what it took to heft some of those stones into place even using cantalever!

A partially collapsed retaining wall. These are holding back terraces
which demarcate property lines on the downward side of a hill in
Mount Savage, MD.  If only it were mine... I would love to restore
this charming feature!

The old springhouse on the same property.  Time and neglect and [effective
though historically insensitive] rennovations have left it ravaged almost
beyond repair but how I would like to try...

You might be wondering what a "springhouse" is. I'm going to call it a necessity of both early American life and for those seeking a self-sufficient lifestyle not so tied to today's utility grid. The most basic purpose of a springhouse is to cover a spring with a simple, usually just one room, structure to keep the water clean and potable. It keeps out fallen leaves and animals that could introduce infectious bacteria to the water source. The cold water and stone construction keep a springhouse cool year round so it also provides refrigeration to store foods like cured meats, fruit, vegetables, and dairy products safely away from predators.

And then sometimes you randomly find a huge pile of stacked rocks out in the middle of the forest.  It's neat and ordered and shows intelligent design in its construction. It just doesn't make sense in context of its location. At least not with how the locale is used today. And since Appalachia has been continually populated by uncounted cultures for thousands of years we are left to speculate about the purpose these rocks served and any meanings attributed to them in the distant past. Couple that with a landscape that holds onto the secrets of what may hide deep within its volcanic ancient history...

This example is near Spruceton NY. I found it in this 2008 blogpost from
Rock Piles. They refer to them as cairns, which to me suggests
a burial site.  Perhaps?  It makes for a good story!

And there you have mystery and intrigue... essential ingredients to any good story!

Were these stones laid by some of America's first inhabitants? Perhaps they are altars of worship like The Book of Mormon describes... or trail markers, or defense structures in an ancient war, or hunting blinds maybe? Along with the equally mysterious stone circles (like Scotland's Stonehenge and the smaller less well known circles here in Appalachia) are they evidence of an ancient alien presence? Are they just stones cleared from the fields of a farm that has been reclaimed by nature? The answer, and the story, depends on who you ask!

I would say many of the less easily explained rock piles come from preparing a field for planting crops. Stones were removed to make it possible for the farmer to work his field and produce a crop. They were stacked somewhere out of the way. Most of us who grew up on or around farms or in families that gardened are familiar with the process and have likely spent some time "pickin' rock."  That familiarity tugs at the heartstrings... These rocks remind us that there's something both comforting and disturbing about the temporary nature of our time on Earth. This is work that's as important as it is fleeting... What once served as a family's livelihood is reduced to nothing more than a few tons of stone... and a mystery for future generations to wonder about.

Do I Talk Funny?

Recently I discovered Applachian Magazine online and have been thoroughly enjoying the stories they post.  It's just little snippets of life here in the mountain region, many from a historical perspective and many with a wry sense of humor, that surprise me often with the commonality to my young life.  I grew up in rural Idaho but I identify pretty strongly with many of the customs and sayings they claim as uniquely Appalachian.

Photo from Appalachian Magazine's article "The Story
Behind More _____ Than Carter's Got Liver Pills" dated
January 24, 2015 (link imbedded in post).

This morning's reading was about the origin of Carter's Liver Pills.  Kind of interesting in and of itself, but what caught my attention and amused me were the golden little idioms of speech that peppered the story.  Considering myself a "word person," etymology is always one of my interests. And when I find a new saying, or even just a really fun to say word, I start thinking about how to work it into a casual conversation if for nothing more than shock value.

I like these colloquialisms!  You may have heard some of them, or you might find something new listed here, but hopefully you'll appreciate the colorful way with words and let them set your imagination, and conversations, afire.

When something is desirable:
On that like a fat lady on a donut...
...like white on rice!

When someone is ugly:
...face could haint (or haunt) a house.

When someone is shaking (from cold, afraid, laughing):
Shaking like a cat crapping a peach seed.
Jiggling like a bowl of jello.

Speaking of someone being clever or if it's really icy outside:
...slicker than snot on a door knob.

When someone doesn't shoot well or doesn't understand something obvious:
...couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

When one holds a tool differently than most of the population:
Just like a pig with a pitchfork.  (This was used about how I hold my crochet hook once...)

When there's a large quantity:
More ____ than Carter's got liver pills.

When one is angry:
Madder than a wet hen.
...could thread a sewing machine – and it runnin'!
...got his knickers in a knot!
...pitched a hissy fit!
Well... that just dills my pickle!

When you have done a lot or have a lot to do:
Busier than a one legged man in a butt-kicking contest.
Running like a chicken with it's head cut off!

When you are surprised:
...coulda knocked me over with a feather.
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Describing finances:
I'm so poor I can barely afford to pay attention!
Don't even got a pot to piss in (or a window to throw it out)!
Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash.

Describing someone who is vain or conceited:
...thinks his #^%@ don't stink.
She thinks she is all that, and a bag of chips.

When something isn't happening fast enough:
...slower than cold tar at Christmas-time!

When you are thirsty:
...wet your whistle.

Describing being thrifty or cheap:
Pinch that penny so tight you could pick the boogers from Abe Lincoln's nose...
Squeeze a quarter so tight the eagle screams...
...so tight he could back up to a wall and suck a brick out!

When something unfortunate happens:
No use crying over spilled milk!

When you are feeling especially good/something very fortunate happens:
...finer than frog hair and twice as nasty.
...finer than a frog hair split four ways.
...grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tater.
Happy as a hog in slop!

When something is fun or funny, or used sarcastically when it's not:
More laughs/fun than a barrel full of monkeys.

Describing one with a distinct lack of musical ability:
...can't carry a tune in a tub.  (My friend, Heidi, once went on to describe me as being able to sing two parts: solo and tenor.  "So lo" no one can hear it and "ten or" fifteen miles off key.  So much for thinking I should ever try to sing outside the shower, huh?)

When things are going right/you finally understand:
Now we're cookin' with peanut oil!

When someone pretends to be something they are not/has bad character:
He's all hat and no cattle.
He's lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut.

To describe a nasty wound/bad period/miscarriage:
...bleeding like a stuck pig.

When a woman becomes unexpectedly or unintentionally pregnant:
____ got bit by the trouser worm.
...gone and got herself knocked up.
(and my Grandma's shout out to an expectant jaywalker: "hey lady, you know you can get knocked down, too!")

Describing the weather:
It's so hot I just saw two trees fightin' over a dog!
It's dryer than a popcorn fart...
Raining cats and dogs!

Referring to a child/childhood/events that happened before a child was born:
...knee-high to a grasshopper.
You weren't even a twinkle in your daddy's eye yet...

Describing nervousness:
...like a cat on a hot tin roof.
_____ needs to go pop a valium!

Describing being confused:
Doesn't know his [backside] from a hole in the ground...
Don't even know which way is up!
It's like reaching around your [backside] to scratch your elbow.

Describing a liar:
Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining.
That dog won't hunt!
You'd call an alligator a lizard.
...windy as a sack full of farts.
Her mouth is goin' like a bell clappin' out of a goose's [backside]!
If ____'s lips are moving, s/he's lying.

Describing stupidity:
If ____ had a thought it would die of loneliness...
Light's on but no one is home!
...ain't got the sense God gave a goose!
If his brains was dynamite, he still couldn't blow his nose.
____'s crazier than an outhouse rat.

When you hope to do something:
God willing and the creek don't rise!

Emmanuel Episcopal Church

Photo from website of Emmanuel Parish of the Episcopal Church

The Cumberland hilltop where Emmanuel Church now stands was originally the site of a trading post for the Ohio Company, who sold land to would be settlers and supported America’s westward expansion by selling them needed goods and offered a place to trade the things they produced.  It was also the cultural and social center of the community.  On Christmas Day in either 1778, or more likely 1749, the first Christian worship service in this region took place. It was led by Christopher Gist, known as a devout Anglican, who ran the trading post and is likely the origin of the current Church’s name, Emmanuel (meaning God is with us).

George Washington.
The center portrait by John Hancock Snubs courtesy of the New England Historical
Society is the familiar look we associate with George Washington,but the flanking
ones by James Peale that hang at Mt. Vernon may be more similar to how he would
have looked during his time in Cumberland

In 1754, a young George Washington, then employed as a surveyor for the Ohio Company and a Colonel in the Virginia Militia, brought troops to push the French out of territories claimed by the British Colonies. He failed.  And his surrender at Fort Necessity (about 50 miles away) was the impetus for the French and Indian War. In 1755 the British Army occupied the land and erected Fort Cumberland, named after the British Minister of War, to serve as logistical headquarters for the forces under General Edward Braddock.  At the time it was the largest military installation in North America.  Braddock’s expedition ended as a complete disaster with his defeat in the Battle of Monongahela but troops continued to be garrisoned at the fort under Colonel Washington’s leadership for the remainder of the war. Local settlers and soldiers met together at the Fort to hold church services, some of which were led by Colonel Washington when a Chaplain was not present.  It was last used as a military installation in October 1794 when President George Washington brought troops to suppress the Whiskey Rebellion.

Tunnel Below Emmanuel, Photo from website of
Emmanuel Parish of the Episcopal Church

One of the features of Fort Cumberland was a system of earthworks known today as The Tunnels.  The Tunnels, and a cabin that’s been moved to a city park, are all that visibly remains of the Fort. Originally these tunnels served as storage for perishable foods and gun powder and played a part in the Forts defense system.  Because the Fort was made of wood, it was highly vulnerable to attack and required out defenses ¼ mile to the Potomac and Will’s Creek that were accessed by trenches extending from below the Fort’s walls. 100 years later, the same tunnels and trenches became the way that escaping slaves got up under the Church to the safety of the Underground Railroad station here.

In the early 1850’s a young escaping slave named Samuel Denson arrived from Mississippi and decided to remain, pretending to be a freedman, and work for the freedom of others rather than continuing on his own journey to freedom.  He conspired with the Reverend David Hillhouse Buel, Rector of Emmanuel Parish, who had also worked with other Underground Railroad sites in Sykeville and Westminster before coming to Emmanuel in 1847. Buel gave Denson the job of Sexton which included keeping the Church and Rectory looked after, keeping the furnace going, ringing the Church bell and doing custodial work at the Allegany Academy (which now houses the Public Library).  In that capacity it was a natural part of Denson’s job to traverse the tunnels regularly.  It was the perfect cover for his role with the Underground Railroad!

Part of the old Fort’s defense works ran from the east end of the Church down the hill to Will’s Creek.  In those days this was an area where rail lines came together at the Terminus of the C&O Canal.  It was called “Shanty Town” because of the proliferation of saloons, brothels and shacks where canal workers and lowlifes lived… a natural hiding place for someone on the run.  Escaping slaves were instructed  to hide out there while waiting for the next moved to be signaled – Samuel Denson ringing the church bell in a special coded way - and then bringing them to safety under the Church where could rest, eat and get other aid for a day from Rev. Buel and fellow abolitionists.  Then they followed a tunnel under the Rectory and out the cellar door into a [then] unpopulated part of town and be transported over the Mason Dixon line 4 miles away.  For many, the tunnels below Emmanuel Church were the last Underground Railroad stop in slave territory.

For Whom The Bell Tolls

I know... cheesy to steal the title from the ever more famous and great writer, Ernest Hemingway, but I like it.  And it works for this post about church bells.

There is a pretty little Catholic church, St. Patrick's, on the next block.  Jason's Mom said it used to have a contingent of Nuns and even, at one point, served as a Monastery but now was vacated for lack of a large enough congregation to warrant the expense of keeping clergy there.  Someone still rings the bells, though.  And the parish website lists a full schedule of meetings and masses. So who knows?

Photo from the website of
Our Lady of the Mountains
Roman Catholic Parish of Cumberland, MD

I've noticed the bells several times at 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm.  At first I thought they were marking time.  And then I became vaguely aware that there were significantly more than 6 (or 12) peals... This morning I counted 22.

And so I went to Google for some answers.

I learned that the history of ringing church bells dates back to 400 AD. Paulinas of Nola was the first to introduce them to the Christian church and Pope Sabinianus sanctioned them in 604 perhaps as part of the meshing of Pagan practices into the early church as more people became members by force if not by choice.  Pagan winter celebrations have long included ringing bells to drive out evil spirits perpetuating the idea that bells have great spiritual significance though nothing in the Bible distinctly calls for the ringing of bells as part of worship.

Today's Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican churches ring bells at 6:00 a.m., noon, and 6:00 p.m. as a summons for members to pause and recite The Lord's Prayer or Angelus.  This schedule is also steeped in ancient tradition. Christianity draws from Bible verses speaking of thrice daily prayer:

Psalms 55:17 says "Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice."

And Daniel 6:10, "Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime."

Praying 3 times a day is consistent with the Jewish practice of visiting the Wailing Wall.  And sounding a call to prayer is analogous to the Islamic tradition of the adhan from a minaret.  I think it's very interesting that we draw from so many diverse cultures and traditions for something so pleasant as bells on neighborhood churches.

About St. Patricks, their website gives this history "The rich history of Mt. Savage includes one of the first masses celebrated in the area in 1793 by Fr. Stephen Badin (the first priest ordained in America). As the Catholic population grew, St. Ignatius Church was built between 1829 and 1835. When a larger church was needed, construction began on what is now St. Patrick’s Church, named for the predominance of Irish immigrants. The new church was formally dedicated in October of 1873. Mt. Savage is also the birthplace of Edward Cardinal Mooney (1882-1958) who was elevated to Cardinal in 1946 by Pope Pius XII."

Pretty cool... While I still have no idea if 22 bell peals at 6:00 a.m. has meaning, or is just the result of an especially enthusiastic bell ringer, I can say I've walked in the footsteps of America's first priest now!

That Year End Wrap Up Post

2016 started out hopeful... kind of went straight to hell from there but ended on a decent note.  I gained many experiences.  I'm going to trust that the ones I didn't enjoy and don't see the reason for are truly needful in some plan bigger than me.

So just what did I do?

I started saying "YES" to the adventures that presented themselves.  I went out and explored myself instead of waiting for a human companion.  I took more pictures because this world is an icredibly beautiful place.  I talked to strangers and listened to their stories of how life led them from where they were to where they are now.  I healed my soul a bit more and got a little closer to actually being me again.

I experienced some firsts. Even at my age there are lots of first times left!

• visited 13 states - AL, SC, VA, MD, WV, and PA for the first time
• tasted hominy, sauerkraut, bok choy, fish sauce and persimmon
• tried some new combinations of food - kidney beans and potatoes fried together, turnips cooked with beef, potatoes, onion, celery and carrots in a pressure cooker (I'd always eaten them raw from my Dad's garden before), a Pennsylvania Dutch dish called Slippery Pot Pie, and Vinegar Cake
• lived without running water or electricity for 3 months in a semi-remote mountain setting
• showered at a truck stop (I didn't even know you could before this experience!)
• drove a box (moving) truck
• had to ask for a jump when I ran my car battery out
• gave a jump to a stranger who was stranded alongside the road having done the same
• made blueberry jam (never lived where a bush grew in the yard before and I'm too cheap to buy them!)
• got the car stuck, and luckily unstuck, in the mud a few times
• learned to clip the dog's nails by myself

I also did some things again that I hadn't for a long long time...

• bathed in a creek
• pooped in an outhouse
• shot a pistol
• observed wildlife up close - mostly deer, wild turkey and a variety of other birds
• blogged a bit more regularly (at least toward the end of the year)
• picked enough wild blackberries and black raspberries to make jam
• experienced a Ward/Stake split/reorganization at Church
• took a course where I struggled hard to learn the material (thinking I will go out of  my way to avoid using it forever more - it was that hateful!)
• read the Book of Mormon
• forgave someone who was very hard to forgive

And I even did one thing that I'd sworn never again... moved to a place where winters are cold and snowy.

I've marveled repeatedly at just how adaptable, accepting, and forgiving my dogs are... troopers through thick and thin. They amaze and inspire me daily to try harder and do better and grow up to have their attitude about just taking life as it comes.

I failed friends.  Circumstances changed suddenly and I didn't/couldn't do what I promised and I'm still scrambling to get that set right. And friends failed me. Different ones in different ways. It hurts but I still love them and want them in my life so I'll get over it.

I've been scared. And sad, And lonely at times. I've had people worry about me. And I've wondered myself if I'm ever going to get me put back together and rebuild an entire life and future.

I've also felt peace and love and hope and connection.

And, again, declared the coming year to be THE YEAR OF ME!

Marietta

If I told you I visited a place that looked like the set of a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie would you think I was drunk, dreaming or telling you a tall tale?

Well... that's exactly what I'm telling you about Marietta Ohio!  

Middle Island is one of several islands in the Ohio River that
are in some state of being returned to nature as wildlife preserves.
This guide provides more information about the plans, activities
that are available and a map of the islands:  https://www.fws.gov/
refuge/ohio_river_islands/visit/visitor_activities.html

I wasn't sure what to expect when, during Jason's last visit, he suggested we keep exploring after a look around St. Mary's and checking out the 235-acre former farm turning back to nature for a wildlife preserve on Middle Island and headed over their lovely old metal bridge.  

But I surely was in for a good surprise!!  It was getting late enough in the afternoon that we were losing light for photographs, and a good look around, so we made plans to go back the next day.

Bridge between St. Mary's, WV and Ohio

We made that exploration a continuation of a trip to the dog park so the boys got an extra treat of taking a little walk around Muskingum Park right on the bank of the Ohio River in downtown Marietta.  They loved it!  And, even with one or the other them pulling me in 20 different directions all at the same time, I managed to get some pictures...

Muskingum Park
Dedication Marker

The park commemorates the westward expansion of our country beyond the original 13 colonies and is now home to a beautiful walking trail and a thriving arts and music community. The section we explored is situated between the downtown business district and a residential area with a number of historical marker-ed houses and churches.

One of the current arts programs is turning several dead trees into art installations by carving historical figures from the stumps like this one.  I didn't find a marker telling me who it is in place yet but I think it's a pretty neat idea to give these old trees a living voice to the history they witnessed.

Memorial to the Start Westward

Memorial to the Start Westward

Looks like it's time for a little more
restoration work...

We eventually headed back toward the cabin over the "Green Bridge," another of these really cool old ironworks bridges that have me so completely fascinated and charmed.

The Green Bridge between Marietta OH and Williamstown WV

And since I was driving, we took a couple more little side-trips to see stuff that interests me.  One of them was to the old Fenton Art Glass Factory in Williamstown.

Fenton Art Glass factory in Williamstown, WV

Sadly, the company ceased making art glass pieces in 2011 and there's just a gift shop that wasn't open the day we were there.  Seeing the glass production is something I would have loved...  Their wikipedia page gives some interesting facts about its founding and pictures the kind of glass pieces they produced at different times during the company's lifetime.

Cairo

Did you say that in your head like the city in Egypt?  If you did, you just set yourself apart as not a local.  Natives say it KARE-OH.

Where Highway 31 crosses the river leading you toward
Highway 50.  I find these old ironwork bridges so charming
and appealing...

Stained glass window in the
Apostolic Church of Cairo.
I LOVE stained glass!

With homes and businesses stretching along the North Fork of the Hughes River, Cairo is another charming small town just up the road a bit from Ellenboro along the formerly lucrative North Bend Rail Line that’s now been transformed into 72 miles of hiking, biking, and horse riding trail. And like most small towns, the parts that are really interesting and beautiful aren’t apparent unless you slow down and look for them.

Since I’m trying to do just that, I pulled into a parking space on one of the business streets and waved back to the man sitting on the front porch of his bicycle shop fixing tires.  We talked for a few minutes and I learned the shop is there to rent bicycles for day trips on the trail or to repair those that have had an unfortunate mishap along the way and had to be pushed in.

The old Bank of Cairo building, situated
beautifully on the river bank, is now home
to the North Bend Rail Trail Foundation.

He told me both diners, The Trailside and Shemp’s, were decent places to get dinner.  And he pointed out a decrepit old Victorian house that’s for sale... cheap.  At least it seems cheap from what I'm accustomed to seeing real estate list for.  Like him, I hope someone who loves those “painted lady” houses comes along and makes it a showpiece of this quaint little town!  He also alerted me to the Veteran’s Monument I’d parked by and still managed to miss seeing…

There's a bell I'm guessing gets rung ceremoniously during holiday commemorations and a pair of iron benches for those who want to pause, read, and reflect. These 5 plaques are aligned on a long and simple granite marker:

It was known as the Great War... the war to end all wars.

We went "over there" to the songs and cheers of our countrymen, and marched
right into the grim reality of twentieth-century warfare.  Poison gas, machine
guns, tanks, aircraft, and submarines were devastating innovations.  We fought
in trenches, on the sea, and in the air.

We helped make the world safe for democracy... but it was only the beginning.

This memorial is in honor of all of the World War II veterans who were involved
in the fight for the freedom of America and the free world.

Whether they fought in the Pacific or European theater, they faced a resolute and
often brutal enemy; yet they possessed the inner strength and courage that kept
them going on the beaches of Normandy, in the deserts of North Africa, and on
the islands of the South Pacific.

The actions of those who were called to duty were probably best described by the
words of Admiral Nimitz: "Uncommon valor was a common virtue."

They told us, "We are going to have peace even if we have to fight for it." So we
fought in the mountains at Heartbreak Ridge and waded ashore at Inchon.

We froze in the winter and baked in the summer sun.

At times, we were greatly outnumbered, but we still fought on and many of us gave
our lives for Freedom... for Justice... and for Peace

This memorial was erected in memory of the young individuals who went to war
as kids and lost their youthful dreams, and some their lives, for a cause - freedom
and honor - and came back as men with the horrors of war instilled in every fiber
of their being and were never given the respect and honor they so dearly deserved
from the public or United States government.

God will one day judge our actions.  Until then, He will shine on the lives of each
veteran now and forever more because He was with each of them in Vietnam. He is
the only One that truly knows what they went through and are living with every day.

"I have seen in your eyes a fire of determination to get this job done quickly so that
we may all return to the shores of our great nation.  My confidence in you is total.
Our cause is just.  Now you must be the thunder and lightning of Desert Storm."
- General Norman Schwarzkopf

I have connections to all these conflicts - relatives and friends who've served in the Army, Navy, Airforce and Marine Corp...  And the monuments celebrating the achievements of our veterans have sure found a place in my heart, especially the ones you find in obscure places where you don't expect them. I welcome these opportunities to stop and think about the courage it takes to offer yourself up for the good of your country knowing you might be called on to make that ultimate sacrifice.  There’s something sacred about that kind of bravery that deserves to be honored.

Leaf Peeping & Stuff

Jason came to check on us and make sure we were surviving our wilderness adventure.  While he was here we took little trips to explore some nearby cities.  And since he keeps telling my phone pictures are pretty bad, I've been trying to use my camera more. Not sure it helps a lot... the problem may be just as much my photography skills as the device I'm using.  One day we drove up to Parkersburg and he took me to Rural King, where we bought dog food, and then we drove over the 50 cent toll bridge into Belpre, OH where we stopped in at the world's tiniest Goodwill.  (Seriously!  I would question if it was even 500 square feet but he looked annoyed when I referred to it as an adorable miniature...)  I had to laugh thinking 'Do we know how to romance or what?'  Another day we took off in the opposite direction and took a look around Clarksburg.  That day highlighted how opposite from most people we are - he pointed the car straight to the mall while I wanted to take pictures of cool buildings, historic sites and nature.  Here's a few pictures of stuff I wanted to see that I managed to snap along the way:

Leaves are just starting to change colors for fall.

Sometimes when you look out at the horizon it's like you can see trees forever.

You can see that it's giving way, but green is still putting up a good fight
to stick around awhile longer.

One more shot of the first blush of fall color from along Highway 50.

The dogs got to show him their new favorite dog park.  They had a great romp and then crashed in the back of the Explorer while we played a game of heads = turn right, tails = turn left going on up Volcano Road.  We ended up on a road I don't quite have an adequate vocabulary to describe (let alone get pictures of!) where the car was bouncing and lurching over the ruts and boulders... Amazingly, it finally connected to another beautifully blacktopped road a few miles later.

Shortly before the end of the Civil War, Volcano emerged as a major oil producing
boomtown in the White Oak region of Wood and Ritchie Counties...

We both thought this little cave in the rocks and tree roots was pretty neat.

We turned a corner and he hit the brakes! There was
Ginger and Cindy, horses he owned before the family
farm burned 8 years ago and he sold them. He called
to them and they perked right up and then he hopped
the fence went to pet them.  They are following him
back toward the car for more...

I hear this construction site is a new nuclear plant.  Looks like a possibility to me.  And the guard frowning at me for taking pictures kind of reinforced the idea...  We were on a public road and not trespassing on a private build site. The signs didn't give many clues, they just said Entero Energy Clearwater Project (which didn't come up in Google when I searched).

From another day... in St. Mary's:

I walked in some famous footsteps!!  And I stomped all
around the bank here just to make sure my foot fell somewhere
that his did so I could honestly say that...

The Ohio River directly behind the monument for George Washington's landing.

And just when you think the adventure is over and you've FOUND him...

...you find out you're wrong and the adventure continues!  We pulled in at the cabin well after sundown and I saw some bright lights up on the dark hillside.  I pointed them out to Jason.  He said a couple of words I won't repeat here and took off up the hill through the tall grass and brush and whatever else is growing there to investigate.  Before long he pulls up and tells me he's got to go meet the DNR officer and then they'll both come back.  An hour later... I learned the lights were some guys using spotlights on their pickups to hunt deer up there, which is illegal, on private property where they had no permission to be, which is even more illegal, and then evading arrest, which is even still more illegal.  What an exciting way to end our visit... And test if my phone, which has only super sketchy service up here, could even make a 911 call!

Some Thoughts on Apple Butter

Regarding the rules for West Virginia, The Farmer’s Market Vendor Guide: A Guide for Farmers, Sanitarians, and the Consumer lists apple butter, along with sorghum and molasses, as a food product with a special classification.  It can be produced outdoors in open copper kettles and then sold at Farmer’s Markets and other venues.  In order to sell most foods, the facility where they are produced is required have some level of certification as a commercial kitchen.  The reasoning for excepting these foods is that the combination of high temperatures before jarring and the generous amount of sugar they contain decrease the likelihood that the product is “potentially hazardous” to a very low level.  Maybe it also speaks to tradition and tourism, too.  Demonstrations of the historical method for making apple butter are featured at a number of fall festivals.  And at least two cities in West Virginia have dedicated Apple Butter Festivals!

Photo lifted from the Salem Apple Butter Festival, Inc.
Facebook page.

I had high hopes for a really unique experience when I drove the 30-ish miles east to Salem this afternoon.  With  no disrespect intended for the many hours of work put in by the folks who organize this festival, I have to say I was a bit disappointed.  It was busy and active and by all those kinds of measures, successful.  It's just... there was nothing to set it apart from any other street fair in any other town in America, except for the apple butter making demonstration.  I do have to say, I did enjoy watching it simmering in a big open kettle over a wood fire! That historical aspect is what was missing from the rest of the festival, in my opinion, as this was surely the best part of it for me.

Photo from the official website of the
Salem Apple Butter Festival, Inc.

However, you don’t need an open roaring fire or a big copper kettle to make really great apple butter.  Basically, it’s apples and sugar and spices cooked down to a jam-like consistency.  You can do it stovetop or even in your crockpot using any one of the dozens of recipes available on Pinterest.  Or, if  you are that kind of woman, you can bust out the cauldron and go for it outdoors... One of these soon to come days, I plan to give it a try!  Probably on the stovetop, though.

And unless I find a good reason to choose otherwise, McIntosh will be my apple of choice.

Photo from Jane Lear (actually read this post on
her fancy food blog - great guide for choosing
your apples!)

The West Virginia-grown McIntosh's seem especially delicious to me this year... maybe they always are; this is my first time tasting them here and I am wowed by their tangy sweetness with just a hint of strawberry flavor.  I'm pretty sure I could be a very happy girl with a whole orchard of these beauties in my yard!!  And the boys are surely loving having them fresh as our nightly snack!  Me too.

WW II Submarine Memorial

This is at Mountwood Park.  The boys and I explored the rest of the park last week but it was raining too much to get a look at their memorial to the lost submarine men that day.  Today we went back to the dog park to work out some wiggles and attitude problems and then took some time to remember and reflect at this small, simple, and unassuming memorial site on the shores of Walker Lake.

I learned a sad fact.  52 U.S. Submarines were lost in World War II.  This plaque on the front of the memorial lists those still listed as "On Patrol."  That's a sobering number... As is the number of men who are still onboard: 3,505 officers and enlisted men.

Words fail me to express my respect and gratitude for their sacrifice!

"We shall never forget that it was our submarines that held the lines against the enemy while our fleets replaced losses and repaired wounds."  Fleet Admiral C.W. Nimitz, USN

I didn't find an explanation as to why, but the U.S.S. Cisco was given special recognition here, listing men who went down with her on September 28, 1943.  According to her Wikipedia page, "Cisco sailed from Panama 7 August 1943 for Brisbane, Australia, arriving 1 September to assume local patrol duties, until 18 September, when she docked at Darwin. She put out on her first war patrol 20 September, but never returned. Japanese records tell of sighting a submarine leaking oil on 28 September in an area where Cisco is known to have been the only submarine then operating. Japanese records state this submarine was sunk by bombs and depth charges. Cisco is thus presumed to have been lost in action 28 September 1943. The only survivor from the crew was Chief Radioman Howell B. Rice (USN ret.), who was taken sick in Darwin and sent ashore to the Navy hospital prior to Cisco's final voyage."

The lake side of the memorial has a plaque recognizing those who contributed to its building and placement.  It includes a number of WW II submarine veterans.

With the loss of our veteran's from this time period, I have to wonder how many stories are lost with them.  What could we learn that would help us not repeat the mistakes that drew the world into this war with its unspeakably horrible human cost?  I think these memorials help, both the famous and the obscure, when we take the time to stop, read and put some effort into really comprehending our history and how it's made our life today possible.  It also makes me think that a simple 'thank you,' no matter how appreciated, just isn't enough...

Roadside Regional Dining

From day one here, I've seen these things called Pepperoni Rolls in convenience stores and gas stations.  Jason shrugged when he told me they were a "West Virginia thing" and we went on our way.  Yesterday I was thumbing my way through some of those tourist magazines that are a staple of rest stops all over the nation and along with at least a thousand more things I want to do and see I found a short article on the humble origins of... the Pepperoni Roll.  So you know I had to try one.


This was my breakfast this morning!

Never heard of a Pepperoni Roll before?  Apparently, these little gems don't exist too far away from West Virginia... So once you try one your avenue to satisfy your craving is pretty narrow.  Unless it leads to your own kitchen.  Pepperoni Rolls are pretty simple to make.  Basically, it's just a nice soft dinner roll filled with pepperoni.  You could take your favorite yeast dough that you'd use to make dinner rolls, roll it out and cut like you're making pretty large crescents, layer some pepperoni inside, roll it up, pinch it shut and bake it.  And there you have a classic Pepperoni Roll.

See the inside?

The fats in the pepperoni that are solid at room temperature melt during baking and infuse the soft bread with flavor. Some bakeries are trying to gourmet them up a bit by adding cheese and/or herbs to the stuffing.  Or giving you a cup of warm marinara sauce for dipping.  I think either or both of those additions would be delicious... But just plain old pepperoni is classic and the way a purist would have them.  And of course, there's the expected disagreement over using sliced or stick pepperoni.  I say just use plenty of it!!

The story of how they came to be such a regional staple of roadside dining is really what's interesting, though, because it's such an American story.  Guiseppe Argiro, an Italian immigrant who came to the U.S. to work in the coal mines found his real calling in baking and started selling Pepperoni Rolls to other miners in 1927 from the Country Club Bakery in Fairmont, WV.  Isn't that the American dream?  Starting with nothing and finding success inventing something iconic? They became popular because they keep for several days at room temperature, are lightweight and easy to pack and can be eaten with one hand - a real working man's lunch!  Today they are popular for tailgating, camping, and on-the-go snacking for these same reasons.

I think it's a safe bet if you put your money on me having more Pepperoni Rolls in the future...

Proud to Be An American

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.

I grew up in a time and place where we recited the Pledge of Allegiance, hand over heart, each school morning.  The uproar you see now and then suggests that isn't the case any longer.  If that's true, it's a shame.  People should be proud of their country and boldly proclaim it every day.  This simple single sentence of fealty was the beginning of my patriotism.  Following are more things that helped shaped my idea of national pride:

Photo credit: Sharla Cunningham

If tomorrow all the things were gone I'd worked for all my life

and I had to start again with just my children and my wife

I'd thank my lucky stars to be living here today

'cause the flag still stands for freedom and they can't take that away.

And I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free.

And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me.

And I'd gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today

'cause there ain't no doubt I love this land...

God bless the U.S.A.

From the lakes of Minnesota to the hills of Tennessee,

across the plains of Texas from sea to shining sea.

From Detroit down to Houston and New York to L.A.

there's pride in every American heart and it's time we stand and say:

That I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free.

And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me.

And I'd gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today

'cause there ain't no doubt I love this land...

God bless the U.S.A.

Written and recorded by Lee Greenwood

Picture from: http://www.ldsliberty.org/i-pledge-
allegiance-to-the-title-of-liberty/

And it came to pass that he rent his coat; and he took a piece thereof, and wrote upon it—In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children—and he fastened it upon the end of a pole.

And he fastened on his head-plate, and his breastplate, and his shields, and girded on his armor about his loins; and he took the pole, which had on the end thereof his rent coat, (and he called it the title of liberty) and he bowed himself to the earth, and he prayed mightily unto his God for the blessings of liberty to rest upon his brethren, so long as there should a band of Christians remain to possess the land— Moroni's Title of Liberty, Alma 46:12-13

Photo credit: http://www.sonofthesouth.net/
uncle-sam/patriotic-poster.htm

“Here is your country. Cherish these natural wonders, cherish the natural resources, cherish the history and romance as a sacred heritage, for your children and your children's children. Do not let selfish men or greedy interests skin your country of its beauty, its riches or its romance.” ― Theodore Roosevelt

“A love for tradition has never weakened a nation, indeed it has strengthened nations in their hour of peril. ” ― Winston Churchill

"Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem. We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from sin and set us free. Amen!" ― Billy Graham