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Browsing Tag: #mountains
To be a mountain girlYou must be cold as frost on the tin roofAnd hot as cinders from the wood stoveYou must be witty on your comebacksAnd sharp as grandpa’s yellow Case knife To be a mountain girlYou must be tough as a pine knot And delicate as a monarchs wings as they pulseYou must be soft as spring’s peach fuzzAnd hard as the fallen walnut To be a mountain girlYou must know how to sew with catgutAnd how to heal with aloe and plantainYou must be able to rise and bake biscuitsAnd rest in the heat of the day To be a mountain girlYou must know how to bait your own hookAnd keep up with who’s buried whereYou must know who married whoAnd where their children scattered to To be a mountain girlYou have to talk to crittersAnd go barefoot most of the yearYou must know how to plant by the signsAnd what made that track To be a mountain girlYou will appreciate each day as it comesAnd be grateful to the one who made itYou will prepare as much as you canAnd give grace at every turn To be a mountain girlYou should be capable of shooting straightBoth with a gun and your mouthAnd you should have casseroles in the deep freezeAnd a stack of cards to send in sympathy or thanks To be a mountain girlIs to know which way to the riverAnd where to dig sangAnd hold the note on…
These old men Mountains Men of the mountains Mountains made these men The ground cold into May Wet till October And then the gold is abundant Don’t pan- just look up Salamanders scurry And squirrels scold And bear chew Lazy, arrogant Brides with wildflower halos And dulcimers on the porch Chicken and dumplins on Sunday After Bible thumpin’ amens Old baying dogs with black patches Flogging roosters Rusted tools hanging forgotten But don’t kill the black snake Didja hear about Shorty Gonna run ’em a cobbler Porch swing’s squeakin’ What to do with all this squash Yes ma’am And thank you Please don’t trouble yourself Prettiest quilt I ever laid eyes on There’s watermelon And sweet tea Cousins are all comin’ too Just wanna drop in this heat We’re headed to the lake To the funeral home Just want to set a spell All we do is run run run Rain’s on the way Mail’s late Kids comin’ in for Thanksgiving Can’t wait to get to the beach So green it’ll hurt your eyes So humid you can wring the water off of you So slow you think you’ll never get there And everybody’s talkin’ ’bout football Stay Southern, y’all Love from Appalachia, ~Amy…
Get comfy. I’m a travelin’ son of a gun. This could also be a compilation of all my sunburns. I think I get a sunburn everywhere I go. I have never understood people who take the same vacation year after year. There are 3,797,000 square miles in America. Better hurry. Of course when I started this, I was just remembering all the big, noteworthy trips. The more I wrote, the more I remembered. #1) Charleston, West Virginia. Saw the capital. Not sure why we were there. I remember the tolls. I went with my Grandmother, mom, and I think maybe Aunt Bren. #2) Nashville TN. Many times. Various reasons. Rode out there and back with Meg one evening to get a pair of blue jeans. Everybody said we were crazy. They weren’t wrong. Many, many trips for the Co-op for buying shows and conferences. Skeeter took me just to occupy my mind one May Day in 2001 🙂 40th birthday party for Lisa at the Opryland Hotel was a crap ton of fun. Last trip was the best one, though- brewery bounce with my bestie 🙂 #3) Akron, Ohio. Believe it or not, I have relatives in Yankeeland. Saw the Goodyear plant, where my great-grandfather once worked and his brother still did at the time (late 80’s). Jumped into the most perfectly made-up beautiful four poster bed of all time, embarrassing my mom & grandmother to no end. I’…
I don’t have much on my social calendar. Granted, I have more on it than I did five years ago, but I’m still not what you would call swamped. And I prefer it that way. I need time to recharge, time with my books. However, at the last board meeting, I cemented a whole whirlwind month’s worth of activities with my gal pals. We’re going to read and eat and watch the royal wedding. Friday, I finally convinced Shug to try Aubrey’s. Of course he loved it, as I knew he would. What’s not to like? Saturday was my mega-busy day for me: baby shower, hiking, dinner and drinks with two of my three lovelies. But then the rain. But maybe it wouldn’t affect the festivities. It didn’t matter to me. I could be just as happy at home, curled into a corner with my book. Unlike most people, I embrace the rain. Plus I’m too lazy to water my flowers, so it’s always welcome. The best thing about baby showers is the food. The worst thing is the children. Luckily, there were no children in attendance, so the worst part to endure was the oohing and aahing over tiny socks. Once that was over (alas, there were no games where you couldn’t say baby or win a prize for having the most abnormal crap in your…
About a week ago, there was a post on the Sevierville Speaks Out Facebook page. A gentleman was requesting local writers message him their word rate to write a local article, 2000-4000 words, twice a week. I was tagged by four people. So I thought, I’ll humor them. “Good morning” I wrote, using his name. “I was tagged by a few people on your post in Sevierville Speaks Out. I’m a native Sevier County resident. I worked at the Co-op downtown for 13 years, and now work as a secretary for {I’m not publicly announcing my location to potential stalkers}. I’ve met a lot of local color…some might say I AM the local color. 😁 I’ll be completely honest, I don’t have a rate per word. I have a blog that I started last year. Please feel free to check it out and you can get a clear idea of my style. Amysappalachia.com I have written two articles for our local fair book, an article for 911 magazine, and the feature for the first installment of Sevierville Living. I would be interested in learning more about your position. Thank you.” The message I got in response five days later was clipped and standardized. “Hello. We offer 3 cents a word. If you are still interested, please send you name, address, and a sample writing the 3rd person…
Mondays suck. It’s just one thing after another. People are crabby because they have to go back to work, I guess. They’re indecisive & needy. But that’s small potatoes. To most of you, this will just look like a good ol’ country baptizing. But to some…oh, it is so much more. This is Miss MacKenzie Henry, being baptized by her papaw (preacher) Danny Henry, & her daddy, Scotty. MacKenzie is a special needs, loving, beautiful child of God. About a month ago, her momma was tucking her in, doing the whole ritual of singing to her & reading a little bit, talking about the upcoming week. “And you know what’s happening Sunday?” Kenzie nodded enthusiastically. Brandi told her again who all was getting baptized. Kenzie nodded more exuberantly & pointed at her chest. “Me!” Brandi was stunned. “You want to be baptized?” “Yes!” Nodding excitedly. She got her point across. Now, we would like to believe that children are protected, until they become the age of accountability, but I could not find any specific verses to support this belief, which is somewhat disturbing. At any rate, MacKenzie had sat through enough Bible School lessons & church services to know that she needed to be saved & it had laid on her heart for knows how long before she was able to communicate her desire. The problem probably stemmed from her fear…
