Goodbye, Utah Phillips

I was a beginning storyteller and a new member of the Storytell listserv when I received an email from a man named Utah Phillips. Today I do not remember what he wrote to me about, but I remember wondering who he was. Years later, I found out and was astounded that he'd taken time to write to me. Maybe I should not have been surprised, for he'd spent his life reaching out to others along the way.

Troubadour, labor activist, storyteller and man of hard truths, Utah Phillips passed away last Saturday (May 24). His ailment was the same one that claimed my father and like Dad, Utah passed on peacefully in his sleep. It was a passing he earned through his lifetime of giving hope and help to people struggling with hard times.

There are several videos of Utah telling stories and singing on YouTube. Take a listen and you'll see why this man is a folk hero--he's Walt Whitman, Woody Guthrie, Johnny Cash and John Prine all in one package. Or maybe each one of them is a little bit of that great spokesperson for the common man, Utah Phillips.

Below are the lyrics to my favorite Utah Phillips song, The Green and Rolling Hills. Although I believe he visited West Virginia only a few times, his sense of the place and the plight of its workers was right on the mark, and he taps perfectly the desperation and determination of those who had to leave to find work. He's an honorary West Virginian in my book.

The green rolling hills of West Virginia
Are the nearest place to heaven that I know.
Though times are sad and drear
and I cannot linger here
They will keep me and never let me go.

My daddy said don't ever be a miner,
A miner's grave is all you'll ever own.
Never have a dime to spare,
Hard times everywhere,
Now these times they are the worst I've ever known.

I'll move away into some crowded city,
In a Northern factory town you'll find me there;
Though I leave my heart behind,
I will never change my mind,
For this troubled life is more than I can bear.

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips

Thank you, Utah, and goodbye.

Visits from the Reptilian World: Pop Quiz

What is it? Long, slender, striped and blue-tailed, these little critters like our deck and sidewalk.








This one left quickly, apparently being camera-shy.

Sometimes they lose their blue tails, and then they are very odd-looking indeed. This happens when a predator attacks. The skink can shed its tail, and the tail, according to at least one source, will continue to wiggle after it's detached, which distracts the predator. Well, I reckon. That would get my attention. Imagine grabbing someone's arm and it just comes off in your hand!


This big guy showed up at Derek's house--which is located on a hill in a fairly dry location.

Where was he going, and why? We noticed him because of the racket he made crawling through the dry leaves by the fence.












A past encounter with one of this species taught me not to get too close. I saw one crawling beside the road, and stopped to look. The smell was overpowering, and he looked like he was in a bad mood.

I opened the door and was talking to him when he suddenly lunged at the car. I just had time to slam the door before he struck it, hard enough to leave a dent. I figured he hadn't had his morning cup of coffee yet.








And last, this visitor in the garden has had a very successful career keeping rabbits at bay.



Can you identify these critters?



**Note: there is a not-too-honest one included!

Potato Gun, The School of Scary Stories, and Memorial Day

What do these three things have in common? All three were part of the weekend at my house.

The potato gun is definitely not a safe toy, but then neither are a lot of things that are fun. Larry made our potato gun in the late 1980's. Aaron took it to college in 1995, and after some will-not-be-disclosed-here incidents involving a feud between his rental house and a nearby sorority house, the gun had to go in hiding at oldest son's house. The gun is about 20 years old and showing its age. It's been in the root cellar, unfired, for the past two or three years. Somehow we got to talking about it over the weekend, and someone dragged it out. It looked rough, but a little tinkering got it in fire-able condition.

Fire in the hole! Jaime looks dubious but entertained.

The gun was not as spectacular as in its glory days, but it was fun, and the guys used up a lot of miscellaneous almost-empty spray cans of various stuff, looking for propellant.

If you'd like to try your hand at making one of these homemade cannons, there are many sites online with instructions. (Note that the linked site rates the potato gun as "do not do this.") Aaron has one that uses an air compressor instead of propellant, and there are many other variations on the basic idea and propelling a potato through PVC plastic pipe into the netherworld. Why would someone want to do that? I have no idea, but I can attest to the fun we've had doing that very thing.

The happy gunners.













Inside, the children nestled snugly in the hide-a-bed. Hannah read to them from her favorite book-at-Granny's-house, Jim Flanagan's The School of Scary Stories.




We ran out of potatoes and marshmallows, but the fire burned on into the wee hours of morning.

Happy Anniversary to Us

It's been a fast 22 years.

This photo was taken in 1987, after we'd been married about a year. We were in our mid-thirties, trim and fit, poor as dirt and happy as larks. We had a new baby to add to my four sons by my first marriage, and we had stopped at my parents' home on the first vacation I'd ever had.



Here we are in a photo taken last October.

No longer young, fit and trim--but no longer poor as dirt either, and still happy as larks.

And still living in the same place, watching grandchildren grow up and the gardens mature (grandkids will mature one day too!).


Happy Anniversary, Larry. It's been an amazing 22 years, and I would not have missed a minute of it.

True Love

Age is hard on skin and bones
but marriage is sweeter as we grow older.

You know what spoon I like for my cereal,
which coffee mug is my favorite,
that I do not like to eat meat with a salad fork.
You know how many times I will turn off the alarm
before I get out of bed.

I know just how to rub your back,
soothe your moods and aches and pains,
and how strong to make your coffee.
I know when Vietnam haunts your nights,
and that you like it when I stroke your face.

No one has to tell old married people
What love is all about.

Mulberries and jam-making

Can you spot the girl in this picture?

The mulberries are getting ripe, and Haley went to check on their progress.















There she is!


















Okay, Approach #1 didn't work--climbing into the tree from the tractor tire.

Time to consider another way to get to the mulberries.
























A more traditional method, perhaps?

Haley is athletic and not easily deterred from a goal she has set.

While there were mulberries lower on the tree, she wanted to get to those in the tree's top.

Which required a lot of climbing.

Which she really likes to do.











The reward: a handful of almost-ripe berries. Actually, I like them best at this stage, while there is still a good amount of tartness in them. Once mulberries are ripe, they are very sweet, but a little bland in my opinion.

What to do with mulberries? I like to mix them with other berries to make jam--strawberries or raspberries are a good match, as are gooseberries or currants.

Or mix them all for a really unique product. I no longer have gooseberries or currants, but I remember making that mixed-berry jam and it was delicious.

Rhubarb also makes a good partner for mulberries, adding a tart tang and a different taste. To make any of these variations, follow instructions for a berry jam; adding lemon juice might be a good idea if you use only raspberries and mulberries because the pectin content might be low. I use commercial pectin to make my preserves because I remember my mother's cooked jams made without pectin--very strong and kind of gummy, and often they got sugar crystals in them after a few months in storage. You can find a basic recipe for making jam here.

The mulberry tree was planted by Haley's father when he was seven years old. He ordered it from the Arbor Day foundation, I think. He planted two but one fell victim to the brush hog just after he planted it. The tree didn't bear until Derek had left for the Army when he was 18. Sometimes I mailed mulberry jam to him when he was in Germany, other times I stored it away until he returned home.

In 2003 Derek left for Iraq at the start of the current war. Soon after he left we had a terrible ice storm that destroyed many trees. The mulberry was heavily damaged and we did not think it would recover. It budded out very late that year and bore no berries at all. The following year it looked a little better, and now, five years later, it is full of berries and as vigorous as ever. I'll have some jam made and waiting when Derek comes home in June.

To Do List: What Got Done?

Here's the to-do list I posted last week. It's time to check in and see how we did.

In the gardens:
*Hoe out the new strawberry patch. Done by Larry with the little tiller and me with the hoe

*Mulch the new berry canes.* Not done or even thought about. oops

*Plant herb seeds, and cucumber and squash hills. Done, although I had to make a new planting bed in order to get all the herb and flower seeds in.

*Plant tomatoes and peppers. I planted the peppers, Larry did the tomatoes while I made jam.

*Hoe the little garden. Done--and fenced too.

For storytelling:
*research stories about races/racing for 4-H camp. I looked through the tales I already tell and found several to fit the theme. Need to get this done this week.

*research insect stories for Summer Reading programs. Not yet. First the race stories, then the bugs. But I did print out Jackie's marvelous online book of insect stories, so I've got a great start.

*get the newsletters labeled, stamped and ready for mailing. Yep, all done except for about 1/2 of the labels. Requires a trip to the store because I ran out.

This weekend:*go to the Vandalia Festival at the state cultural center this weekend. Oh ,very well done. And fun too.

*get up early Friday to go to the Ripley on Sale event in town. Done and came home with bargains.

*enjoy grandkids James and Michaela (and their parents, of course, who are coming to help with Derek's house). Oh yeah. Enjoyed immensely. They helped clean, cut grass, change oil in vehicles, start the tractor, and a ton more stuff.

*visit Larry's family graves and decorate with flowers. I wimped out here. Larry and Hannah went while Haley and I stayed home to rest my knee and work on the newsletters. Larry and Hannah decorated all his family graves and added a few flags to veteran's graves that had no decorations.

*enjoy my family, my home, and the incredible variety of my life. Completely done. What a great weekend.

*Add : party with friends (until wee hours). Stargaze on the ridge and see a huge shooting star. Roast marshmallows in the outdoor firepit. Cook out. Eat watermelon. Fire off the potato gun: at night so we can see the flames shoot out of it. (Okay, this could have been a "hey yall, watch this" moment, but we all survived.) Tell the story of Wicked Jack to friends around the fire. Listen to music with Haley. Miss my parents.

*do not think about work. Not a problem at all!

Family Reunion Pics 3

A chilly morning at Jon's cabin but the fire and coffee warmed us up.

Hannah and the face tree.

James doing something little boys (and girls) love to do: throw rocks in water.

The creek beside the picnic pavilion was perfect for exploring, and the children did a lot of it.

Cousins: Edna, Stephen, Ralph and Bernie. These are my cousins on my Dad's side, from his brother Uncle Bud (John). I missed getting a photo of Uncle Barney's family somehow. That one will have to wait for next year.

Family Reunion Pics 2

James, Jaime, Tommy, and many assorted relatives, lining up, or trying to line up, for the group photo.

Brothers and sisters--not all of us, but most: back row, youngest sister Julie, Mary, Cathy, Judy, me, Joe, Maggie. Front: Tom and John. Theresa was off on a hike, Bill had already left, and brother Stephen (as opposed to cousin Stephen) and Elizabeth could not attend this year. They were missed, but life happens and intervenes at inconvenient times. My husband Larry also could not be there because he was on mandatory overtime.

What a surprise! Two gifts from my oldest son awaited me at my cabin after the family singalong.
In the box, this neat little birdhouse...

and in the basket, wine-on-the-go, complete with wine, glasses, corkscrew and other nifty accessories. Very cool!

Family Reunion Pics

I didn't get back to sharing the photos from the family reunion. Here's the first of three groups I'll post:

Cousins, embers and marshmallows. We got confused figuring out what cousins each was to who--second? second removed once? third? We need to get a book that explains it!

Two of my heroes: brother John who is walking well now and working 30 hours a week after being paralyzed from the waist down 3 years ago, and brother-in-law Roger who survived an explosion and terrible burns.

Cousin Ken tell a story at the evening gathering. This is a tradition we'll keep, gathering after dinner to share stories...

and songs. Here cousin Stephen leads the family singalong with his "banjolele" (I think that's what he called it).

Pulling together to say hello to Derek, over in Iraq. The photo was emailed to him. There was another poster like this one for my nephew Brian, also in Iraq.

Planting, Picking and Jamming

The morning started with a task to be completed: planting tomatoes. So Larry did that while I...



did this...ummm. Good strawberry preserves.

Aaron and Jaime and kids arrived, so while the guys went off to mow and begin the clean-up at Derek's, us womenfolks took off for Vandalia Gathering at the Capitol in Charleston.

Vendor tents lined the circle in the shady circle drive of the building

and musicians were everywhere, playing in jam sessions under the trees
or competing in fiddle, banjo, flatpick guitar, and other contests



while in the singing tent we sang the old songs with Kate Long, Becky Kimmons and others.

Irish step-dancers perform the sword dance in the great hall of the Cultural Center,

and outside our friend Wendy Perrone sat with her Golden Eagle Spirit

We took a little detour through the halls of the Capitol. The Governor wasn't in.

Looking up one of the spiral staircases on either side of the rotunda is a little dizzying.

The second floor, towards the 'well' in the center of the rotunda. Michaela loved the echo chamber and the sound of her feet on the marble floors.

The two floors, looking like a reflection.

As the shadows lengthened, we settled under the trees to listen to Odie and friends picking some fine bluegrass. Everywhere was music--Old-time, Celtic, square dance, singing and bluegrass. You could move from place to place to listen to one pick-up group after another, a musical smorgasbord.

Then it was time to head home to the guys, the fire pit and good memories of a very good day.

My Day Off

A glorious day off! No 100-mile round trip, no crises about toilet paper or elevators or lost books. No parking garage, voicemail, or paperwork. Just me, getting up at a late 7:30am to begin a busy day off.

First, up and out to get to the Ripley on Sale event in town, pick up the plastic fencing for the gardens, and visit the Master Gardeners' plant sale.

Traveling down the left fork of Joe's Run, I finally took the time to photograph this old log barn. The logs are too far gone to salvage, but in June roses often bloom around it.



Close-up of the notchwork. I wonder who did it, and how long it took to build the barn. Was it a barn-raising event, or just a family working together? This clearly was always a barn--there is no indication it was first a house, and then converted.



Near the barn is the remains of the homeplace. It has been used as a barn for as long as I've lived here, and it too is not likely to be standing for too many more years. I don't know anything about the history of this place and that surprises me because I know about almost every other farm on the road. The morning sun offers soft light, the oak offers shade, and together all three make beauty.

At the sale, three men try to determine what this metal contraption is. No one can figure it out-which is surprising because one of the men owns an antique shop and is pretty well up on all sorts of rustic tools. We thought perhaps it was some sort of hay tongs, but that didn't seem right either.

The weather was beautiful, clear and very cool. The turnout for the sale was excellent and there was all sorts of stuff to buy. I bought a homemade lemon pound cake and some brownies and such since we'll have company this weekend and I don't feel like baking. The courthouse lawn is always the site for the sale, and the grand old courthouse seems to enjoy all the visitors.

A few of my morning buys: two wood folding chairs with woven wood seats, stamped "Board of Education" on the back, and two primitive plant stands that used to belong to a friend's sister. Total cost, $20.

The rest of the day I spent in the garden--putting up that plastic fence, planting the stuff I bought this morning--hydrangea, hollyhocks, chamomile, opal basil, begonias, a rose bush; and the stuff I bought earlier this week--marigolds, peppers, replacement cabbage (darn rabbit) and broccoli, flowering tobacco (nicotiana). I have more to plant tomorrow, and beans to re-plant.

A long, full day. Who needs to go to work when there is always so much interesting stuff at home to do?

(well, there's always the paycheck to consider, I guess...)