A poet of the mountains
This past weekend was given over to reorganizing the books in my home library. In the process, I relocated a volume of poems I had feared was long lost.
My favorite “Appalachian” poets would be Robert Morgan, Kay Stripling Byer, and James Still.
Real deal boardinghouses don’t exist anymore
Are there boardinghouses still operating here in the Smokies region? There are, of course, hotels, inns, bed-and-breakfasts, and motels galore. But I'm wondering about the true, old-fashioned boardinghouse, which flourished throughout the region until the middle of the 20th century.
Possums are the ultimate survivalist
Editor’s note: This article first appeared in a January 2005 issue of The Smoky Mountain News | I became acquainted with opossums when I was a boy running a trap line — a series of wooden box traps and steel jump traps that I checked every morning before school. Even though they weren't my prime quarry, it was possums that I usually wound up trapping. I learned very quickly to respect their sharp teeth and claws. And I was early on introduced to their survival tactic of “playing possum;” that is, feigning death.
Start planning the gardens now
Editor’s note: This column first appeared in a January 2006 edition of The Smoky Mountain News. | Have you started making your gardening plans yet? It’s time. The garden catalogs started arriving in the mail several weeks ago: Johnny’s, Burpee’s, Pine Tree, Park’s, Shumway’s, Seeds of Change, etc. Folks have been studying these sorts of publications with pleasure for decades.
Horse Cove is worth a visit
Editor’s note: This column first appeared in a November 2003 edition of The Smoky Mountain News.
Horse Cove is one of the prettiest settings here in the southern mountains. It’s a highland valley surrounded by the Black Rock, Fodderstack, and Chestnut and Rich mountains, and drained by Big Creek, one of the numerous headwater streams of the Chattooga River system situated on the eastern flank of the Eastern Continental Divide.
It’s time for hog jowls and greens
Editor’s note: This article first appeared in a November 2003 edition of The Smoky Mountain News.
When I was a boy, mother had to force me to eat cooked greens. But the older I get the more I have looked forward to eating them.
Kephart Prong Trail has a unique story
I like visiting those sites here in the Smokies region where there is what I think of as an “overlay.” That is, places where both natural and human history commingle. At such places, one encounters the confluence of all or several of the major strands in the region’s natural and cultural fabric: wild areas, plants, and animals; early Cherokee and pioneer settlement influences; and the impacts of the modern era, initiated here primarily with the coming of the railroad in the late 19th century. At such places the alert observer can experience what the French have defined as “frisson” — a moment of excitement and insight that arises when various forces coalesce.
Cherokee had high regard for owls
Editor’s note: This article first appeared in September 2002 in The Smoky Mountain News
The ancient Cherokees were astute observers of the natural world within which they existed. The mountain landscape and all of its plants and animals were a part of their spiritual cosmos.
Ancient Cherokees found protection from the cold
Editor’s note: This article first appeared in a September 2002 edition of The Smoky Mountain News.
It’s only late summer but I’m already thinking about winter. We have heated and cooked with wood for quarter of a century now, so having a supply of kindling and firewood on hand has always been a priority.
Buzzards have a beauty and power all their own
Editor’s note: This article first appeared in The Smoky Mountain News in August 2003.
The recent heavy rains here in the Smokies region have been a blessing, especially to those of us who like to observe vultures up close and personal. That’s because the big birds have to remain in their roost trees well into late morning in order to dry out before they can take flight. In my opinion, there’s no prettier sight in the world than a bare tree full of buzzards.