Waiting

This morning we woke up to a light skiff of snow on the ground. Larry made last-minute preparations to his bonfire preparations. It's a BIG pile, and should burn for many hours.

All of us are waiting for dark, for our visitors, and for the lighting of the bonfire. Right now I'm supposed to be napping, but instead I'm wondering if I've fixed enough food, if we have enough desserts, if it's going to be too cold to stay outside for very long.

Although by the look of that pile, I think we'll warm all of Joe's Run and a few other holler besides.

If you are reading this and still haven't sent your troubles to burn, email me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com , or leave a comment here. I'll be checking off and on all night and printing what comes in to add to the basket.

Back to watching this last day of 2008 fade slowly to dusk.

How Will You Celebrate the New Year?

Do you have special plans for your New Year's celebration?

Do you observe certain traditions and customs?

Do you have New Year's superstitions?

Do you prepare special foods for luck and health?

Or do you just go to bed at your usual time?

As you might know from a previous post, we build a New Year's bonfire in which we burn all the things that are worrying us and those who send their troubles to us to burn.

We stay up late, share music and stories, have lots of food on hand. (You can read all about last year's celebration here.) The kids beat pots and pans to celebrate, the adults sip champagne, and we wake up the quiet night of the ridge with our noise. Far away we can usually hear fireworks and guns going off as neighbors on distant hills celebrate in their own ways.

• I watch for the first-footer too, trying to make sure it's a dark-haired man who leaves through a different door than the one through which he entered. In Scotland, this first-footer should carry in a small lump of coal for the fire--at my house, a log for the wood stove might be more appropriate! (Last year I wrote this post about five ways to celebrate.)
  
  Other things I do to ensure a good year:
  Listen up! The first words I hear after the year changes might carry portents for the rest of the year.
• Do things I enjoy on New Year's Day. This often includes touching base with my family and planning the garden with seed catalogs in hand.
• We used to have to work every New Year's Eve and New Year's day. Now it's important to me to be home because it seems to impact how the rest of my year will go. Superstitious? Yeah!
• Spend no money. An old superstition says that nothing should go out, not even dust or the trash. I don't know about that, but not spending on New Year's is another of those precedent-setting things for the coming year.
• There are conflicting world opinions about sweeping on New Year's. Some say you will sweep out your luck, others sweep out the old year's dust. So I sweep if it's needed!
• My mother always said that if you cried on New Year's, you'd cry all year. true? I don't know, but I try not to cry ;-)

As for food:

We always eat cabbage (with wrapped coins mixed in--I think this was a way to get kids to eat cabbage, one of the few vegetables available in winter in the old days, but probably not a favorite with kids then either! My sons were always on the hunt for rthe coins, but the deal was they had to eat all their cabbage to keep the coins. Quarters were the favorite, of course.), The cabbage can be coleslaw, of course, although somehow that seems like cheating.

Black-eyed peas are on the menu, too--my version mixes the peas with Ro-Tell Tomatoes and onions--spicy and good. And ham--yumm!

So share! What are your plans? What will you cook? What will you do or not do to celebrate and to guarantee your good luck?

For more ideas for food and celebration, try these websites:

New Year's Day traditions and superstitions

Parties all over the country!

Food Network's gallery of recipes

Recipes, crafts and recipes abound on this site

How to make Hoppin' John to spice up those black-eyed peas (but I like my version best!)

Breaking Up Christmas

Tipper at Blind Pig and the Acorn reminded me of this old-time tradition in her latest blogpost. People in the some parts of the Appalachian mountains didn't let the holidays go with a whimper--they celebrated them out with dancing and music that lasted for two weeks, a moveable feast that went from house to house in the hills. Now that sounds like a plan to me!

Apparently the tradition was common to the mountains of Virginia and North Carolina; if it ever existed where I lived, it was long gone by the time I to moved to the mountains of West Virginia. According to the Bluegrass Messenger's website, the tradition died out in North Carolina during World War II, but enjoyed a resurgence in the 1970's when attention focused once again on the oldtime traditions.

In a 2001 article for Voice of America, one man explained it this way: "We didn't have electricity," he said. "We didn't have TV. And they'd do all this stuff at Christmas to entertain theirselves, that's the way they had, in place of watching football on TV or a parade in New York they'd all get together and have their own playing around the country."

A banjo tune called "Breakin' up Christmas" tells it this way:

Hooray Jake and Hooray John,
Breakin' up Christmas all night long.
Way back yonder a long time ago
The old folks danced the do-si-do.
Way down yonder alongside the creek
I seen Santy Claus washin' his feet.
Santa Claus come, done and gone,
Breakin' up Christmas right along.

(Lyrics from Songs of the Mountains)

And if you want to hear the tune, where better than YouTube to see old tradition in new technology? This young man can play..and sing!

Thank you, Tipper, for the brain nudge. It was interesting to look a little deeper into the tradition. If you'd like to see photos and learn more about the tradition, be sure to visit Tipper's blog.

Oh, you might learn a different way to celebrate New Year's while you're visiting Tipper!

Time for the New Year's Bonfire and Burning Our Troubles

Every year my family lights a bonfire on New Year's Eve to light in the new year. As part of our tradition, we write down the things we're worried about--health, money, family, work problems, etc--and we toss those troubles into the fire.


The first year we did this, we invited family and storyteller friends to email their troubles to us to burn, and many did just that. This is the 9th annual bonfire I believe, and once again I invite my friends and family to send troubles for the fire. If you prefer to keep your troubles private, send a simple "Burn This" message and it will go into the flames along with our best thoughts and prayers for you.

Last year we burned nearly 200 troubles; this year it looks like we've all got a lot more to burn! So please send them to me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com and we'll be sure yours get into the hottest part of the fire.

Please feel free to forward this message to your friends and family--we'd be happy to burn their troubles too!

Let's make merry, one and all, and look forward to a new year of hope and happiness!

On the Road Again

Since the weather promises to be fair tomorrow, we're heading across the state to meet with 4 of our 5 sons at the oldest son's house. We'll get to watch the West Virginia University bowl game together! That's not the reason for the gathering, though.

The real reason, besides an opportunity for us to be together and exchange gifts is that their grandmother, my former mother-in-law, will be visiting from Florida. Every couple of years my oldest son flies her up for a visit.

Winter is a tricky time for traveling but it looks like it will be a perfect day.
I'll be back on Sunday, with, I hope, some pics to share of the journey.

See you then!

Happiness is a Red Toaster

My toaster died. It wasn't a great one anyway, and it took so long to toast even lightly.

I sent my husband (that long-suffering man) to the store with one command: "Buy a red toaster."

Why red? I really can't say. I'd seen them in stores and thought that when I got a new one, I wanted it to be red. I mean, why settle for white, or black, when you can have red?

I was excited all day, waiting to see the red toaster. I never doubted that he would find one. When I got home, I asked, "Where's the red toaster?"

On the counter was a toaster. A white one. A plain, cheap, $7.72 white toaster. I was so disappointed. They didn't have red ones, Larry said. He really did try to find one. So--a toaster is a toaster and I decided I wasn't giving it a chance.

It was a terrible toaster. It could not handle the kind of bread we buy, the whole-grain big-slice kind. It took forever to toast half a slice, then we had to flip the bread to toast the other half. Geesh.

So I got on Ebay. There I found many RED toasters. All kind of pricey or too cheap to be worth taking a chance. Then I saw it.

A candy-apple red Oster toaster. Used once, the ad read. $10 starting bid. I bid $10, figuring I could take a chance--and the shipping was free! I wondered why they only used it once. Not a good sign.

No one else bid, I think because the toaster had water drops on it and in the photo it looked like it was all dinged up. So I won, and a few days later the toaster arrived. The packaging was stunning--in a not-good way. The toaster was simply plopped in a box and the box taped shut. No bubble wrap, no peanuts, nothing. Not a good sign.

But the toaster was beautiful. Who knew that toasters now come with electronic controls? And that they could be cool to the touch even when toasting?

The only problem was the toaster burned the bottom edge and toasted no other part of the bread. A big problem, that. After a little detective work, we decided that the interior racks weren't in the right place. We found out how to move them through trial and error and popped in more bread.

Perfect toast. Perfect little toaster.

I am happy. It doesn't take a lot to make me happy, does it?

Just a red toaster.

Christmas Evening Sunset

Christmas evening when we returned home the sky was ablaze with color. I ran into the house, got my camera and got back up on the ridge in time to capture the display. Surely a glorious end to a special day.

The light was almost gone as I turned in at the top of the driveway, and saw the tiny lights of my home below.

Merry Christmas!

Twas the night before Christmas... Yesterday evening, the baking was about halfway done when Larry decided he needed to take a picture of me. Since I hadn't brushed my hair and was a right mess, I wouldn't look at the camera! Here I am looking at the next recipe, one for orange-chocolate spritz cookies. (They are delicious, but I certainly need a lot more practice with the cookie press to make them look decent. You can see a little of them in the photo below.)

Tommy was camera-shy too when I tried to take his photo.
I caught him laughing anyway!

Some of the finished products--these are cherry-nut wreaths. I'd never made them before and they came out beautifully, I think.

Santas handcarved by the late Lance Powers of Elkview, WV watch over a plate of black walnut cookies. This was also a first-time recipe, and it's a keeper for sure--crunchy, spicy cookies with that good black walnut flavor.

Christmas morning--Larry gets the fire going early.

For me fruit is a big part of the holidays--tangerines and navel oranges especially.

Pine scents the house.

Otis and Jeb want in! These good boys were in the house all night and never bothered the cookies and pies on the table. Good dogs--or do they just know that if they touched anything they'd never be allowed in the house again?

I made this wall-hanging in 1977 from fabric scraps. The little tree is stuffed with pantyhose because I didn't have anything else on hand to use.

I don't have any photos of gift-opening or dinner at Derek's because I was kind of busy! I've noticed that to be a good photographer, you must be disengaged from whatever is going on--it's difficult to be part of it and also taking the pictures to record it. Take it from me, we had a great time! My gifts from my husband? A BIG cast iron skillet and a roll of duct tape. Don't laugh! I've been craving a bigger skillet, and had looked at this one but not bought it. And duct tape? I always keep a roll in my car, but had not yet bought one for this car. Any woman reader who lives in the country knows the value of both of these gifts! Not cute and sexy, but great choices for a woman who doesn't want cute and sexy things.

As for dinner, the turkey was perfect, the veggie and cheese trays Derek made were excellent, the gravy was smooth and the eggnog superb.

I hope each of you had a day as restful and fun as mine. To all of you, here is one last wish for the best of the holidays ahead.

Christmas All Around the House

Today, finally, is baking day. Black walnut cookies are in the oven, and Christmas carols are on the radio. All around the house, it's almost Christmas:

Stocking and quilted ornaments made by my friend Suzy, the gifted seamstress.

In the kitchen window, red and clear lights brighten a rainy window view.

On the porch, a small tree adds a festive touch. The blue bottles are wintering out of the weather--just in case they should get water in them and freeze.

Santa waves a greeting from the old washstand.



And bright lights warm the rooms.


Back to the cookies and baking!

Good Will to All

It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve. Shoppers hurried along icy sidewalks as the streetlights added a golden gleam to the falling snow. A man walked swiftly up to the doors of the Goodwill store and stepped inside, stopping a moment to catch his breath after the quick walk from his car to the store in the chillly air.

Only one other customer was in the store. He watched the elderly lady push her cart slowly down the aisles of the Goodwill store. She was obviously shopping for Christmas. She picked up a toy, looked it over carefully and put it down again before moving on to the holiday decorations table. There was little left from which to choose, but she lifted up a small tree and turned it around and around in her hands, apparently seeking the price.

The man picked up some antique dishes, marked "made in Occupied Japan." He often stopped at Goodwill to check out new arrivals and frequently made some good finds. As he moved to the register with his purchases, he noticed that the other shopper had already finished making her selections and was waiting to check out.

As the two customers waited for a clerk, they talked about a doll in the woman's cart. The doll was wearing a hand-crocheted dress. "It's for my granddaughter," she said. "I can't do such handiwork although I love to sew." Her wrinkled hands shook slightly as she placed the doll, a sparkly snowflake ornament, a toy truck and a few other items on the counter in front of her.

The clerk arrived and rang up the items. The woman dug in her purse and pulled out a gift certificate. "Can I use this?"

"Sure," the clerk answered. "It comes to $3.71. You'll still have some money left on your certificate. I'll get the manager; she needs to take care of it for you."

When the manager arrived, the elderly woman asked, "How much is that little Christmas tree in back? I couldn't find a price on it."

"Can you show me which tree you want?" the clerk asked. The two women walked to the back of the store.

The manager smiled at the waiting customer. "I can check you out over here." She pointed to the other register.

"No," the man replied. "Ring me up here. Leave her items on my bill."

"Are you sure?" asked the manager. "She has a gift certificate."

"She can use it later, can't she?"

"Well, sure."

"Okay then. Ring it up quick so I can be out of here before she comes back. And add $5 for the tree, that ought to be enough."

"Sure, if that's what you want." The manager grinned and quickly rang up the items. The man picked up his purchases and left.

As the door closed behind him, the clerk and the customer returned to the counter with the little tree.

"How much for the tree?" the clerk asked the manager. "We couldn't find a price."

"It's free," the manager replied. "The man who just left paid for it."

The old woman stared. "He paid for it?"

"Yes, and all your other things too."

The old woman looked at the toys and decorations on the counter. "Who...who was he?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it was Santa Claus," the manager replied.

The Coming of Winter and Yule

Solstice is past, and winter is here. He came in with cold snowy breath and icy winds that kept us mostly indoors during the shortest day of the year. It was a good day to be inside: the fires were burning brightly while I finished the Christmas cleaning and decorating.

I even got a few gifts wrapped while listening to the Chieftains' album, "Bells of Dublin," my absolutely favorite holiday recording. I know I drive my family crazy with it. As soon as Thanksgiving is past, I get the CD out and start listening to it at every opportunity. I sing along with a lot of the songs because I know almost all of them by heart after about 15 years of dedicated listening.

Larry worked on the New Year's bonfire, carefully piling brush and logs into a giant pile that will burn brightly to light in the year. Although tradition in many places has a bonfire being lit and maintained through Solstice night, we do ours at New Years and it's become a special and central part of our holidays.

We save part of the central log from the past year to start the next year's fire, a custom evidently that goes back to Scandinavian times. This practice is supposed to bring luck and good fortune--we can all use that!

The Book of Days for December 24th (the book is a real compendium of information for any day of the year) provides a wealth of background information about the yule log, as well as several poems that detail the customs of ancient celebrations.

Here is one short poem supposedly from the time of Henry the VI, from the Book of Days:

WELCOME YULE

Welcome be thou, heavenly King,

Welcome born on this morning,

Welcome for whom we shall sing,

Welcome Yule,

Welcome be ye Stephen and John,

Welcome Innocents every one,

Welcome Thomas Martyr one,

Welcome Yule.

Welcome be ye, good New Year,

Welcome Twelfth Day, both in fere,

Welcome saints, loved and dear,

Welcome Yule.

Welcome be ye, Candlemas,

Welcome be ye, Queen of Bliss,

Welcome both to more and less,

Welcome Yule.

Welcome be ye that are here,

Welcome all, and make good cheer,

Welcome all, another year,

Welcome Yule.'

My mother always prepared a Yule log as a decoration--Dad would save part of the trunk of the Christmas tree and bore it with little holes and three bigger holes.

Mom put bits of greenery and Christmas trims into the small holes, and three candles into the larger ones. It made a pretty decoration, and I have one in my home today. Mom's heritage traces back to Scandinavian roots (her surname Hagger traces to Hagar) so perhaps that is where her tradition originated.

Today many people equate "Yule log" with a Christmas cake, and I have to say those cakes are a delicious tribute to an old custom. But for me it will always mean Mom's log decoration, and our own New Year's bonfire.

Who Will Be Home for Christmas?

I get asked this question frequently at this time of year. With five sons, twelve siblings and a slew of grandchildren, I suppose it's natural for people to assume that we will have a houseful for the holidays.

But the truth is, we often spend the day with only one or two sons, rarely more than that. The reason is: life. Some of my sons work shift work; another owns his own business which means the business owns him. Two sons and all my siblings live on the other side of the Eastern Continental Divide, which means that snow and bad weather play havoc with travel plans. It is often just not a good idea to plan a trip over the mountains in December or January.

Another reason why we don't have a houseful of visitors is that I have told my sons that they don't need to come. They have young children; kids like to be home on Christmas to enjoy their presents and celebrations at home. I remember so well how we used to have to take our sons away from their presents to travel to either my parent's or my in-laws' homes. The boys usually were wired up about their toys, and quite often their disappointment at having to leave home for the day was acted out in bad behavior. Which meant I was stressed and not having fun either because I had to ride herd on my herd.

I'm also aware that my daughters-in-law have obligations to their families too. Trying to make everyone happy can often end up making everyone stressed. I prefer that everyone enjoy their day and visit when they can. It works for me and I think it works for my sons too.


Last Christmas morning, Larry and I were alone. It was the first time ever that we'd been alone on Christmas. Derek was in Iraq, Tommy was in Germany, Aaoron was working, and these are the three who are usually closest to home and most likely to be here. We slept in, made coffee and a good breakfast, and lingered over opening our gifts. We called sons and family, and had a leisurely start to the day. It was just us, and it was just good. Each day is what we make it, isn't it?

This year it looks like it will be Larry, Tommy and me in the morning. I'm looking forward to another quiet and leisurely morning with good food and time to take things slow. We'll enjoy the time with Tommy. Then we'll be off to Derek's to cook dinner and celebrate with his family in the afternoon and evening.

And once again, it will be a good day.

Book Review: Appalachian Christmas Stories

By James Gifford Owen B. Nance, and Patricia A. Hall

Ashland, KY: The Jesse Stuart Foundation, 1997.

Anyone who reads Appalachian literature knows the names of these contributors: Jesse Stuart, Loyal Jones, and Harry M. Caudill. The work of other less familiar writers (at least to me) like Jim Wayne Miller, Marlin W. Blaine and others only add to the lustre of their more famous counterparts in this collection of stories, essays and poems about the holiday celebrations of mountain people.

Although most of the contributors are from Kentucky, mountain ways are mountain ways, and the stories rung as true for West Virginia as they will for people in the other Appalachian states.

The tale that spoke most strongly to me was Christmas on the River by Billy C. Clark. I wasn't raised in the mountains, but I could identify with the boy's intense longing for candy, and the lengths he was willing to go to for just a taste of the sweet treat. Anyone who was raised in hard times or in families with limited resources will understand his desperation.

The essays provide a deeper look into Appalachian Christmas traditions, lore and history, and the poetry offers both humor and inspiration.

Although out of print, there are several used copies available online. And of course, your local library may have it on their shelves. For a heartwarming, thoughtful visit to Christmas in the deep mountains, this book is a great choice.

Note to President-Elect Obama

Bring us

understanding of the past

Bring us

hope for the present

Bring us

belief in the future

Bring us

peace for always

Bring us

together at last

Building the Log Cabin Room

I've mentioned the log room or cabin room many times on my blog, and have shown it in a few photos. I found some of the photos I took of the process we went through to tear down, move, and rebuild with the logs and thought some people might be interested in seeing them.

This cabin was located on Spruce Run in western Jackson County, WV. It was located on land that was previously a 1000-acre farm and there were 10 cabins plus at least one log barn and a much larger frame house at one time on the property. The family that had owned the land were named Livingston, and a descendant sold the cabin to us for $500. A lot of people thought we got ripped off. It was full of trash and we had to wear a respirator and gloves when working on it at first because chickens had been kept in it and there was dust and manure everywhere, even on top of the boxes of stuff stored in there.

Unfortunately the owner came in and threw much of the contents outside and burned them. A real pity because there were many blue canning jars, old books, letters, etc in the cabin before he "cleaned" it. We told him not to worry about the rest, we'd do it. So we were able to salvage about 30 blue jars, several other types, a few old letters, cards, etc. I will post photos of some of the items we saved in a future blog.


December 26, 2002: Here is the way the cabin looked when we bought it. Some of my sons would not even get out of the car to look at it when we first purchased it--the ground around it was poorly drained because someone had added a pond nearby and had not down the grading properly, so the ground was muddy, something smelled rank and trash was strewn everywhere.


As you can see, the foundation stones were giving way and the roof was nearly gone so the cabin would not have stood much longer.

Tommy and Jared stand beside a pile of trash on day one.

January 5th, 2003: I didn't get pictures of removing the roof as I wasn't there on that day. Here you can see how the logs were lowered. We tied ropes to the ends and on the other side of the wall are two people desperately clinging to the ropes as they gently lower the log down the ladder. Primitive, but it worked. The logs are mostly oak, with some chestnut, poplar and a few pine. They are 8" thick, and the ones on this side of the cabin were 19 feet long.

January 12th: Russell Bergdorf, Tommy, Zack Kessell and Larry consider their next move. Look at the beautiful fit of the dovetailed logs.

Jared standing in what's left of the doorway.

January 13th: Zack and Jared sit on the wall and survey the floor--which turned out to be tongue and groove random-width planks in surprisingly good condition.

January 13th: Zack and Larry celebrate--we were done with the disassembling part!

January 20th: The next workday, the cherrypicker truck arrived and hauled the logs to our place. We had to hand carry the logs up a slight hill to the road at the old location because it was too slick for the truck to get to them. How did we manage to move 600-lb logs? With steel fenceposts slid under them and carried like a coffin with all-bearers on either side. It took 6 men to move some of the logs, but we got it down in cold January weather.

January 20th: a few of the work crew that helped carry the logs and get them moved: from left, me, Steve Baldwin, Tommy, Timmy Crook, and Derek ,along with our beloved old dog Pup.


July 2003: I don't have too many photos of the rebuilding process because Larry and Tommy worked on it during the day while I was at work, and I just didn't think to take photos. Larry laid the block foundation in May, then we saved money until July for the floor joists and sub floor. We used 2x12 joists spaced 12" apart to make the floor extra strong for the slate we planned to use on it. Larry used a block-and-tackle pulley rig that looked for all the world like a gallows to lift the logs into place. He did many of them alone or with Tommy's help.

Larry's often-disappearing cousin Mike resurfaced just in time to help put the roof on.

Our son Aaron helped with this part too. Actually, all our sons helped at some stage of the building process--a real family affair in the end.


The exterior of the finished room in 2005. To say we love this room is an understatement!

Cost: the total, including the fireplace, foundation (it's about 8 feet high in front, I think, so it took a lot of block and mortar), framing, insulation for the floor and roof, and inside finishing : $5000. We also had to build a new deck, and it's a lot bigger than the old deck. So that was an additional $1500.

Lost

I knew I would never see them again.

I loved my green earrings. I bought them last year at an art and craft show; they were made by Robert Riffe of Mystic Crystal.I had never paid that much for a pair of earrings before, but this was a reward to myself after a successful year of storytelling. In the grand scheme, $60 isn't a lot of money, I guess, but for me it seemed like a lot to spend on something that wasn't useful, like a canner or something. The green earrings were beautiful, and I loved them.

They were made with a green stone called prenite, set in silver in the shape of a dancing woman, with a little bit of citrine at the top. I wore them all the time, even if they didn't really match what I was wearing. When earrings are that pretty, they go with anything in my opinion. Every time I wore them, someone commented on their beauty. That's probably why I lost them--I liked them too much.

I wore them to the family reunion in May and once again several people commented on their shape and color. I really loved the way the earrings felt, the soft silver occasionally rubbing against the side of my neck. They just felt good, you know?

I was careful when packing to come home. I made a mental note of where I had put the earrings, zipping them snugly into the suitcase. It wasn't the place I should have put them but we were hurrying, and I'd remember, right?

Wrong. When I unpacked I wasn't thinking about the jewelry stashed in the wrong place. It was a week or so later when I wanted to wear them again that I realized the green earrings were missing.

I wasn't worried. I knew I had zipped them in the suitcase. All I had to do was look again.

I looked. And looked. And looked again. No earrings. Well, I thought, I must have put them in another bag. I searched every single bag we had taken on the trip, even checking my purses because I thought perhaps I'd traded out purses after the reunion. No luck.

I sorted out my jewelry box. I sorted the mad jumble in the top drawer of my dresser where I am sure dead bodies could lurk and not be found. No green earrings.

After six months of intermittent brainstorms and searches, I gave up. The earrings were gone, that's all there was to say about it. I sent up a prayer that whoever had found the earrings (for I was sure I must have left them in the cabin we rented for the reunion) loved them as much as I did. I'd given a really nice gift to a stranger. There was nothing to do about it but go on.

I did do one thing about it, though--when I went to the craft show again this year, I bought not one but three pairs of earrings from Robert. Not the same ones--he didn't have another pair like them. Of course not--they were one-of-a-kind, just made for me. Well, not really, but you know how I felt.

We've been on many trips since the reunion. The suitcase has been in and out, packed with everything from clothes to puppets. Each time, I searched one more time for the earrings, feeling pretty stupid as I did so. They were gone. I knew that.

When we returned from making fruitcakes with my sisters recently, I unpacked again. As I removed small items from a front pocket on the suitcase, I felt a small hole. Really small, about the size of my little finger tip. Could the earrings have slid into that tiny opening?

Honestly, I told myself, don't you ever give up?

Self answered, No. I'm stubborn and hardheaded.

Wrongheaded, I told Self.

Self wasn't listening. Self was poking a finger into the hole.

And the finger came out with a green earring, and then its mate.

So now I have them once again. For how long? That's hard to say. It's been my experience that things that get lost once tend to do so over and over and it's best not to get too attached to them. But for now, I have my silver favorites back, and I'll be happy with however long I get to keep them this time.

More Snow

These were taken Saturday on our way to and from town. I took over 100 photos because the snow was just so breathtakingly pretty. They're not in order exactly, just the way I selected them to post.

Along Joe's Run, near the forks of the creek.


Through a windshield brightly.

Front yard sun and shadows.

Sun and shadows from the porch.


And the long view on the way to Ripley. That's our ridge 'way out there somewhere.