September 29, 2017
Another busy week has left me with a mixed up, crazy schedule and no
time or energy to journal. It’s hard to
believe another September is coming to an end.
September signifies to me a month of “endings” and with ever ending
inevitably comes a new beginning. The
Autumn season has just begun and it brings the end of summer; however, it also
brings the beginning of a new season. My
mother’s death and my son’s death are both September “endings” but even those grief-stricken
events brought new beginnings. Albeit
painful new beginnings, their absence have changed those who love them and their
passing has helped to create who we are today.
This September has brought the memories of our loved one who have passed
and the longing for them that will not be filled until our souls are reunited
in a better world. This September has
also brought to a head the life changes that Mike and I have been working towards
for a year now, a new beginning. A year
ago we began looking at houses in South West Virginia with the idea of a getaway
cabin. The dream grew until we began to entertain the idea of a new home with
some property to which we would someday retire.
Six months ago we purchased that home and thought we would be years
before we would settle in our Mountain Retreat but everything has come together
in our hearts and in our lives to make this place our primary residence sooner. Not ready to retire, we are ready to downsize
and move the farm.
It has been a hectic month
since we didn’t have much notice that Alissa and Gab would rent out their house
so quickly and moving them into our home in Staunton has meant that we have had
to speed up the process of moving our things out. While I am sure we will take months (maybe
years) getting everything sorted into
items to donate, sell, or move, the pressure has been on the last few weeks to
move enough out so that the kids can get all their things moved in. The best word to describe the process is CHAOS: their things coming in before
our things went out with all four adults trying to fit the moving process for
two families somewhere in the mix of their busy schedules and take care of the
needs of the Little People. Monday was
crazy. The three four-year-old grands
had not seen each other in about three weeks and when they got together I don’t
think they spoke in anything quieter than a scream the entire day. Repeatedly I admonished to use “inside
voices” but it was to no avail. The
constant energy and fast pace of the older three kept the baby from sleeping
well. The only time that I felt like I
had things under control was when I took them outside and just let them run and
scream while the baby played on a blanket in the grass. I always love getting all the grands together
and know that the time is precious. In
less than a year now the older three will start school and the “baby” years
with Tita will be over.
In addition to excitement and changes with the humans, the animals are
in transition as well. Alissa has two
cats that are being integrated into our “communal” home. Since I am allergic to cat hair, this is
going to be an interesting addition. We
have designated an area of the house for the cats but that meant we had to make
some changes with the dachshunds. The
dogs have never been around cats and the whole process of integrating the
animals is going to be an ongoing and interesting process. The cats, angry at being moved from their
other home are “screaming” and the dogs are howling at the cats. Analia, however, is in heaven. She alternately walks around carrying the cats
or playing with all the two Doxies and the Corgi. The child has definitely inherited the animal
loving gene, for which I am thankful.
Rory too loves the animals and the joy on her face, even at six months
old, is precious.
My days have been long this past week, hectic and a little stressful as
we move and make adjustments and learn to work and live communally in
Staunton. Yet, I have been so blessed as
I get to see the girls for an extended period of time and interact with them in
additional ways. I am reminded as I
spend time with them of the time I spent with my maternal grandparents who
spent so much of their lives giving to my brother and I as well as to my two
kids. I know that this time with Analia
and Rory will forever be etched in their memories and will give them a stronger
foundation upon which to build their lives.
There is something to be said for the idea that it takes a village to
raise a child.
When we pulled away from Staunton on Wednesday, I was exhausted. We got to South West Virginia around dark and
had to unload the car. I left the boxes
for another day and got ready for bed.
Normally I get up around 4 to 5 am (sometimes earlier) but when I woke
at 4 I was too tired to get up and went back to sleep. Thursday, I spent the day unpacking boxes and
organizing things. I made the oatmeal
cookies that Mike has been asking me to make for two weeks and I took a walk to
the top of our property where I can see the Buffalo Mountain where it rises up
above the other ridges of the Blue Ridge and where I can look down on the
little hollow that is now our home. We
will continue to go back to Staunton weekly so that I can help with the
children at least until next summer.
Mike plans to put our property in Staunton in corn and soy beans mostly
next year and we will still make some hay there so our interest there as well
as our family will keep us on the road but not as frequently after Alissa
finishes her Master’s degree this spring.
More and more our focus is on what we need to accomplish here at our new
home to get things ready to relocate the livestock that we are keeping. We are anxious to get things done so that we
can move the animals, but the process has so far been slow due to not being
able to get the help or equipment we need.
We are hoping that we can still get a lot done before the weather
changes but we are in the mountains and winter may come earlier and fiercer
here than in the Shenandoah Valley.
With so much “road time” in the past six months, I have begun reading
like I use to before Josh passed away.
It’s the oddest thing, but I was an avid reader all my life until I lost
Josh and then for years I was not able to read and make sense of anything I
read. My concentration just wasn’t
there. In the past few years, I began
reading again sporadically but not with the fervor that I use to read. In the last six months, it has been a real
joy to once again have the desire and the ability to read and read and
read. My interest in the history of the
area to which we have moved has caused me to seek out books that shed light on
people, events and places with which we are becoming familiar. The book I mentioned several times THE MAN
WHO MOVED A MOUNTAIN about Bob Childress mentioned the midwife that delivered
him as being Orlean Puckett. Orlean is a
well known historic figure in these parts, having delivered over 1000 babies
after becoming a midwife somewhere between the ages of 45 and 50. Orelan lost 24 babies of her own before birth
or at infancy but never once lost a mom or baby that she helped to deliver for
others. (It is highly probable that she
was RH negative and her husband RH positive.
In those days, this was not a manageable condition like it is
today.) I purchased and read the book
ORLEAN PUCKETT: THE LIFE OF A
MIDWIFE by Karen Cecil Smith which gave
even further insight to the people and the area in which we have chosen to make
our new home. Once again, I could not
put the book down and when I finished it, I wanted to know more about the
history of the people who were displaced with the building of the Blue Ridge
Parkway, like Orlean who was forced to move from her home at Groundhog
Mountain, three weeks before her death.
Currently, I am reading SHENANDOAH:
A STORY OF CONSERVATION AND BETRAYAL by Sue Eisenfeld which helps to
illuminate the process by which the Shenandoah National Park came into
existence as well as highlight some of the stories of families who were
displaced. As we drive the Blue Ridge, I
have often wondered about the people who were displaced as well as the people
who did not have to move but whose lives were changed forever by the building
of the parkway. I am a person who
doesn’t just see an abandoned house, a barn crumbling back into the earth, the
skeleton of an old school house barely standing in the middle of a cow pasture,
or a little white church that dates back to the 1800’s without wondering about
the people and lives that filled those buildings at one time. Maybe it’s the writer in me that wants to
know their story.
September 30, 2017
I love the days when we abandon a plan or simply the routine of daily
life and do something different. For
months, I have looked at Buffalo Mountain from afar and dreamed of viewing the
world from it’s top. In fact, going back
in pictures I took as we traveled the parkway four years ago, I found a
gorgeous photo I took of the Buffalo from a scenic overlook, so I have been
admiring that mountain for a while now.
Early in the day, I asked Mike if he had any plans for the day. He had a few things he had to do, but
determined he was free for the middle part of the day and we decided to take an
impromptu trip and hike the mountain.
The mountain is not far from our home but in order to get there, one
must take the back roads and approach it from a side that is a greater distance
from our home. It took not quite thirty
minutes to get there. (Perhaps with time
we will find a shorter route as there are many interconnecting back roads and
lots of possible ways to get to where one wants to go once the area becomes
more familiar.) I had read that it is
best to take a four-wheel drive vehicle but since the roads were dry and we
didn’t want to take the trailer off the truck, we decided to take the car
anyway. The final stretch of the road
was narrow and one had to get to the side to allow a car to pass coming from
the opposite direction. Definitely, I
could see how a four-wheel drive would be necessary after a rain or during
inclement weather. We did fine in the
car but we did worry about the oversized tires on our Edge with the sharp rocks
and the huge bumps in the road where it had washed some. If we go back, we will take the truck. There is a parking area that is about a mile
and a quarter from the top of the mountain.
From there, one must take the trail to reach the summit. The trail is designated as being a moderate
climb. Mike and I scaled it pretty
quickly in spite of the fact that we are neither one in as good a shape as we
were a year ago. The trail was narrow in
places and there were switchbacks as we got higher in elevation. It was very rocky and while we had no difficulty
with the climb, I was impressed with the number of people we met at the top who
were obviously a good bit older than we are who made the ascent. The views from the top of the mountain were
breathtaking on such a clear, beautiful, early fall day. We were able to make out the Buffalo Mountain
Presbyterian Church and use it as a landmark to find our property which looked
like a very small patch on a huge patchwork quilt of land that stretched
forever. The descent was a little
trickier than going up because of the loose rocks and the forward slant of the
land. At one point, I slowed down to a
mere creep as I made my way down a small, steep, section with loose
gravel. A woman probably in her thirties
who was behind must have thought my caution unnecessary or felt I was slowing
her up and tried to cut through the woods and down the bank in front of me at
this point and promptly ended up on her backside, sliding down the hill and
landing in an embarrassing position on the trail in front of me unhurt but looking
pretty awkward. When I able, I moved to
the side and allowed the rest of her party to pass us. We stopped a couple of times on the way down
to pick up a hickory nut and break it open with a rock and taste the goodness
inside. The nuts were small but sweet
with a good flavor. As we approached the
beginning of the trail we noticed the hum of bees and other insects, a sound
that had faded on our way up the mountain.
I assume the vegetation being different at the lower elevation attracted
the honey bees who did not find the vegetation towards the higher elevations to
be as appetizing. We had planned on
picking up some apples at an orchard but ended up needing to get home to meet
someone, as we are still trying to find individuals who will do more than just
talk but will actually work. It always
seems to take more time than it should for these meetings with
contractors. They want to shoot the
breeze and Mike being an extrovert and a talker, does nothing to discourage the
long conversations. I am always all
business and don’t prolong a conversation with people I don’t know. I try to be personable but the last thing I
want to do is stand around and talk to someone for hours, especially someone I
don’t know. It was late in the
afternoon, actually early evening when we were free again and Mike suggested we
go to the orchard. I thought it was too
late but he didn’t think it would take us long to get there. We never found the orchard. Mike got confused about what road to take and
we ended up on a “fruitless” drive and back home to get some supper and settle
in for the evening.
October 1, 2017
It’s Sunday morning and it’s October.
It just doesn’t seem possible.
Time flies. It’s time for us to
head back to Staunton, the Little People, and the fast paced, busy
atmosphere. Today we are headed back a
little earlier than usual so that we can attend an “anointing” service for
Mike’s brother, Kenny. Kenny will be
having a tumor removed from his brain on Tuesday and the surgery, while
performed often with today’s medical expertise, is not without risk. There is also the factor of the still
unknown, such as the question o whether the tumor is attached to the brain
itself or just sitting under the skull, is it cancer and will the surgery be so
complicated as to take the entire eleven hours the doctors have indicated
possible with worse case scenarios. My
husband’s family is “Brethren” and the denomination practices “anointing” which
takes place when the pastor, an elder, deacon or other respected church member
makes the sign of the cross on the forehead of the one being anointed with
oil. Prayers are said and the “laying on
of hands” is practiced in most cases.
These services are usually an emotional time given the necessity of the
anointing in the first place. Not only
are these services held for those who are ill, but they also take place at
times before individuals or groups take part in humanitarian aid trips or other
types of ministries outside the routine functions of the local church. It is a ritual that signifies unity and
support of the church family for the individual being anointed as well as the
reminder to that person that a Loving God is with us no matter what our
circumstances.
We didn’t attend any auctions on this trip until Saturday when we got
up early and hit a flea market (which had nothing) and then went to our
favorite auction house that has been closed for two weeks while the owners
traveled. There was nothing that we
could purchase and resell, so I read a book during the auction and we left
early. Upon returning home, Mike met up
with a man who is giving him a bid on installing a whole house generator. With the weather in the mountains and
frequent bouts of electrical outages, we are looking into the possibility of a
whole house generator for emergencies.
We have always had a generator that runs off the PTO on the tractor. Over the years, numerous times in Staunton we
have kept things going by running the tractor periodically. The whole house generator will be a
convenience that I know we will appreciate as we age. While the men talked for two hours about
generators and electricity and best-case scenarios, I decided to clean the
house.
Typically, after the Saturday auction, we hit the Mexican restaurant
but we had to get home to meet the generator man and didn’t stop. We had not eaten breakfast and by the time
the man left, it was early evening and we were starving. We intended to go to the Fancy Gap auction
house for some evening entertainment and Mike said he would take me out to eat
at the little, local, family restaurant before we went. Once we got to the restaurant, we unanimously
decided we would eat and go back home since both of us were a little tired of
the auction house scene and would rather cuddle up together on the couch, Mike
to watch a football game and me with my book.