Good Friday Planting

Well, I planted my potatoes on Good Friday. That’s when you are supposed to plant them, right?

Old timers will give you all kinds of advice on when to plant what. There are the signs to follow – we really need to explore those, don’t we? Then, there are the hints from other plants – I understand that when the Service Berry trees bloom, some will tell you to plant your potatoes. And then there’s the Good Friday rule.

My mother’s grandmother always wanted to plant her potatoes on Good Friday. In fact, she also wanted to plant corn then. However, March 31st is just too early for me to chance a crop of corn. Great-Grandma Livesay was so serious about planting on this day, Mama reports she would wade the mud and scoop out holes with a tablespoon if that was what was required to honor the Good Friday planting day.

Slowly, I walked through my little patch of plowed ground, dropping and covering the layers of lime, fertilize and cut seed-potatoes. As I did, my mind was working through all that needed to happen over the Easter Weekend. We had started out the day with a reading of the Crucifixion from Matthew chapter 28. There would be a celebration on Saturday and food needed to be prepared. Special clothes must be ironed and laid out ready for Sunday morning. All of this was to celebrate the blessed resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ – the only hope we have of eternal life in fellowship with a Holy God!

How did it all meld with the urgency to get the potato crop in the ground on Good Friday?

The Farmer’s Almanac is aware of this advice and made a scientific analysis here back in November 2023. They weren’t quite willing to endorse the “tradition” but they did mention the idea that had come to my mind amidst my meditation on the Resurrection. Author Amber Kanuckel traces Good Friday planting back to Ireland (I’m not surprised by the origin, although I might have thought it started earlier) when potatoes were an essential crop.

Jesus was “planted” (I hope that isn’t irreverent) on Good Friday and gloriously rose in three days – just as he had prophesied in John 2:19. Perhaps, we could infer that anything similarly planted the same day would grow and prosper?

I’m no prophet, and based on last year’s potato crop, not a particularly good gardener either. But, the seed is in the ground and we’ll see if the Lord blesses it!

Missing the Post Office

A few months ago an accident at the Clarkrange Post Office rendered the building unusable until very recently. Now, I’ve talked here before about the post offices in Tennessee and especially Fentress County.  Our dear mail carriers and the local postal staff relocated to Grimsley and hardly missed a beat in serving their customers.  It was only a distance of 8 ½ miles, but we sure missed our post office!

As I prepared last week’s article about our disappearing local communities, I began to wonder what factors define a community, and the local post office seems like one of the biggest factors.

Historically, rural post offices were usually a part of other establishments. I would love to hear from all of you as you remember where the local post office was housed. (And wouldn’t it be fun if any of you have pictures of the stores where they were housed?)

For many years, the Clarkrange Post Office was part of the store on the corner of what are now named Highways 127 and 62. First that was Peters’ Store. Interesting fact, despite the store pre-existing state roads, the Peters’ store was too close to the road and the state made them tear it down. I remember it being in the rear of Freddy Stults’ store at the same location. 

Our local postmaster was recently telling me that the postal system opted to move the post offices out into independent buildings because the stores were such popular gathering place for the community and sometimes their discussions were becoming too heated.

I know that losing having the post office consolidated with another community is always hurtful – both to the people and to the identity of the community.  Those of us served by the Clarkrange Post Office certainly felt that and have a new appreciation for our local mail facility.

Forgotten Community

This week, I had the distinct pleasure to speak to the Fentress County Historical Society.  We talked about losing community identity and I thought I would share my thoughts with you good blog readers.

In researching and writing Tennessee Mountain Stories, I have realized how different the focus on local community was in years past.

I love getting book reviews and feedback on stories.  My favorite reviews indicate that the reader “felt like I was there”.  Some readers have spent time on the Plateau and I love it when you tell me you remember the places I’ve written about.  Sometimes I get letters thanking me for remembering your communities. You see, I find myself chronicling communities that are being erased.

Plans for Emma is set in Roslin – that’s one of our disappearing communities today and a reader appreciated that I got the location right.

Roslin was a thriving community with its own post office and schools.  Roslin post office closed in 1961, changing residents’ mailing address to Clarkrange, Tennessee.

Roslin School absorbed other schools including Howe and Long Branch schools.            The county school system rolled Banner Springs and Roslin schools together into Banner Roslin elementary in 1965.  Then, in the early 1990’s, Banner-Roslin Elementary was closed and the students bussed to Clarkrange Elementary.  Now, even Clarkrange Elementary School is gone and all the students attend South Fentress Elementary School.

Gracie’s Babies and Lottie’s Legacy highlight two communities. Sisters Gracie and Lottie both marry boys from Martha Washington and move there from Elmore.

Elmore is a forgotten community in north Cumberland County which had its own school and thriving neighborhood.   Now, it’s just a short side road.

As highway 127 is re-built, I keep thinking about the trip from Elmore, across Clear Creek and into Clarkrange.  I hear the bridge across Clear Creek will be the highest in the state when it is completed.  Can you imagine the early road that forded Clear Creek or at best had a low, wooden bridge?  You would have to drive all the way down below that high bridge!

I imagined that in Gracie’s Babies and I’d like to share the passage here.

In years past, folks were much more confined to a small geographical area. A lot of travel was done on foot, so you weren’t likely to venture out further than you could make it back before dark unless you were planning to stay for a while.

Over the past 70 or 80 years, our mobility has greatly increased There’s certainly a great blessing in that, however, I do think it has robbed us of our focus on the local community. Today, I can travel the 20 miles to town in half an hour – and I can drive it at any hour of the day and in most road conditions with the same ease.   Based on the amount of traffic I see, we are all taking full advantage of this convenient transportation. I wonder, do we still know our next door neighbors? Do you know the history of your local community? Do you even know the name of the place you are living (and I don’t mean the postal address!)?

I challenge you to learn your community. Please come back to the comments below and tell me about it. And if you already know all about the neighborhood – make a friend down the road an tell her all about it.

Wait for Amen

“No one eats until we say ‘Amen’ y’all”. I saw this cute sign in a local gift shop and it got me to thinking…

My 79 year old daddy often comments when he sits down to eat, ‘Mama would tell me to take my hat off at the table.’ This mountain, farm family didn’t stress a whole lot of etiquette. There was never more than one fork at a place setting and cornbread was passed on a round dinner plate for all hands to pull out a chunk. Still, everyone knew they must wait for “Grace” before they dug-in. And pull of your cap!

Today, it seems like we run 90-to-nothing with a million things on our mind. We eat from drive-through windows because we don’t have the time to go in and sit down. We eat cold cereal and sandwiches because we can’t manage to cook a meal. Okay, maybe this is just my life, but it could be that it sounds like somebody you know too.

Compared to my mountain ancestors, we are better educated, more widely traveled and aware of cultures around the world. Still, there are some traditions from home that we need to maintain and pausing to return thanks to God is at the top of the list.

I even had to chastise my little Wednesday night kids’ club recently that we are nowhere near hungry enough that we can’t pause for a moment to thank the Lord that provided our food.

The sign is cute, but the need for it is a little sad to me. We need to slow down enough to appreciate our blessings and taste our food.

Lotties Legacy Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of Lottie’s Legacy:

“Mama! Maaamaaa!” Delcie cried as she ran toward the crumpled figure lying midway from the garden to the house.  As she continued to move she hollered over her shoulder, “Ruth, come quick!” 

As Delcie reached her mother, she heard the screen door squeak but ignored it, completely focused on the strong woman who guided her whole life.

She fell to her knees at her mother’s head, “Mama, answer me.  Whatever is the matter with you?  Did you fall?”  The questions spilled out so quickly Lottie Ingle could never have answered them, even if she were conscious.

She was not conscious, though.

Finally, Delcie looked toward the house wondering why her older sister had not yet come to help.  Instead of Ruth at the door, she found little Cecil frozen and staring at her mother and sister.  “Sissy, run get Ruth, Mama needs her,” she said as calmly as she could.

Lottie lay with one arm pinned beneath her, the other awkwardly slung behind.  Her legs were folded beneath as though they’d lost all strength to hold her body upright.  Delcie gently turned her mother over and attempted to straighten her body and smooth the long, voluminous skirts she always wore.  She gently smoothed the locks of hair that had strayed from their bun and attempted to wipe the dirt from Lottie’s still face.  It’s warm, Delcie thought, realizing from years on the farm the importance of that fact.

Again, the door squeaked and this time the sound was chased by Ruth’s shrieks.  “Delcie, what’s happened?  Mama, are you okay?  Where’s Daddy? Delcie, answer me!”

Delcie didn’t turn her eyes from her mother’s face as she cradled the still head on her lap, wiping away bits of dirt from the graying strands that had crept into her dark hair in the past few years.  “Ruth, I don’t have any answers.  I just saw her on the ground here.  What do we do?”

Ruth fell at her sister’s side, “We need Daddy.”  Turning her head she screamed, “Mary, Maaareeee, come here Mary!”

Another sister appeared at the corner of the house, panting from her jog from the barn.  “What are you two makin’ all this noise about?”  In that moment, her eyes found them, and she stopped.

“Don’t stand there Mary, run get Daddy,” Ruth commanded.

Delcie’s head jerked upwards, “No!  Go get Aunt Gracie; she’ll know what to do.”

It seemed like hours before their beloved Aunt and local midwife trotted past the split rail fence that held roaming cattle out of the Ingles’ packed-dirt yard.  Gracie took one deep breath, lowered herself down at her niece’s side and took control of the entire situation. 

“Lottie,” she said loudly as she took her sister’s hand in her own.  She gently began tapping Lottie’s wrist and repeated, “Lottie, I need you to wake up.”

After all those minutes without a sound or a movement, Lottie moaned slightly then let her head fall to the side.

Gracie turned the limp head to face her and probed at Lottie’s drooping mouth. Despite the urgency of the situation, her mind registered how much her sister reminded her of their beloved grandmother. Her face was fuller now than when they were younger and tiny lines crept from the corners of her eyes. With each child she had borne, Lottie had retained a few extra pounds. After twelve pregnancies, she mirrored Grandma Elmore’s plump build. Gracie gave her head a little shake to refocus on the urgent situation at hand. Turning to Ruth and Delcie, who sat breathless, she asked, “Was she sick this morning?”

Both girls shook their heads, “She didn’t give a word of complaint,” Ruth offered.

“Mama never complains,” Delcie added.

“You’re right Delcie, but did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Gracie prodded.

The girls looked at each other in silent consultation.  Finally, Delcie offered, “She was maybe a little later than usual getting out to the garden, and I heard her say something to Daddy that she might send for Aunt Mandie to help with the wash.  She’s stayin’ with Grammy and Pappy, you know.”

Ruth chimed in, “I don’t know why she’d do that; I can manage the wash.  I mean I’m gettin’ married just any day now so I reckon I can run a whole house if I need to.”

Gracie cocked half a grin at her niece’s confidence as she nodded her acceptance of the information.  She tried again to wake her sister, this time patting her face as she called her name.

Finally, Lottie began to moan quietly and reached a hand up to hold her head.  After a few more minutes, as the trio stared, she opened her eyes.

“Mama, you’re alive,” Ruth exclaimed.

“Hush you goose.  Of course she’s alive,” Delcie chided.

Gracie spoke only to Lottie, “Honey, are you okay?  You fell out here in the yard.”

Lottie looked around and moved a hand to feel the hard ground beneath her.  Her words came slowly, almost whispered, “What? What am I doin’… on the ground?”

Gracie smiled again, “I just told you, you fell.  Do you remember it?  Did you trip on something?”

Lottie struggled, trying to sit up, “No… don’t think so.  Well… I don’t know.” After a long pause she whispered, “Can’t remember.”

Her words came out so slowly that they slurred together.

She rolled her eyes to look around again, as though she couldn’t believe she lay on the ground. “Up,” she finally requested.

With each daughter taking an arm Lottie attempted to pull her knee up, but nothing moved. 

“Mama, are you coming?”  Ruth asked.

“I’m trying,” Lottie’s confusion was obvious in her voice. 

Daniel strode into the yard wearing his customary smile.  One look at the girls surrounding his fallen wife dropped his countenance.  He pushed against the paling gate and was at Gracie’s side in two strides.  Without a word, Daniel and Gracie’s eyes met.  From long experience, he knew she would be the voice of reason in an emergency.  When she raised her eyes to him, he immediately understood the severity of Lottie’s condition. 

“Aunt Gracie, can I get her inside?”

Gracie nodded, “We must be very careful.  I think something is happening in her head because she’s not really understanding me, not answerin’ the way she ought to.”

“I need to get some help, I think.  I’ll run down to get Virgil.”

Gracie reached for his sleeve, “Dan’l, don’t go all the way to Virgil’s.  Burton’s home and he’ll come.”

Daniel was nodding his head as he trotted out of the yard toward Gracie’s house. 

He’d scarcely reached the Martha Washington Road when his cousin Martin Ingle hollered to him, “Dan’l! What’s your hurry?”

Daniel tried to take a deep breath, tried to form a sentence but could only manage, “Come, help.”

It was all Martin needed to hear from his cousin; he leapt onto the horse he’d tied by the barn and spun her head around to face Daniel.  With a swift kick, horse and rider bounded toward the dirt road and Martin’s cousin.  The big grey mare couldn’t fully stop before Martin had grabbed Daniel’s arm and hoisted him up behind the saddle.

“Your house?’ Martin asked.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel was able to answer and offer some explanation.  “Yeah, it’s Lottie.  I don’t know much but she’s down and we need to get her into the house.”

The horse was already at a lope when Martin answered with a nod.

It was only seconds before the hooves thundered onto Daniel and Lottie’s farm.  The horse seemed to understand the need and drew up close to the fence. 

Gracie’s head popped up, “Oh Martin, thank you for coming.  Delcie has brought out a big quilt, and I’ve managed to roll her onto it.  Let’s get ahold of it by the corners.  Ruth and Delcie can get two corners to help you.  Mary, honey, you run open that screen door up as wide as you can get it and stand out of the way so we can get your Mama into her bed, okay?”

Everyone moved to their assigned spots and little Mary trotted up the steps and swung the door open with both hands then stood wide-eyed as the group hoisted Lottie up.

“Easy now, I don’t like moving her,” Gracie cautioned.  “There you go, Martin, you’re at the steps, start easing up now.  Ruth, you won’t be able to go in the door at the same time Martin does so give him your corner when you get to that point.  There you go.”

Everyone worked together and in a short time they had Lottie on her bed.    Again, they looked to Aunt Gracie for directions.  She’d learned from many birthings that everyone needed a job and she made assignments accordingly.

“Delcie, you help me get her in her night clothes.  Ruth, why don’t you make her a cup of coffee?  Do you have bread?”

Ruth nodded, “I made bread just this mornin’.  My bread is ever-bit as good as Mama’s.”

Gracie’s weak smile testified of her contempt for Ruth’s need for recognition.  “Why don’t you cut her a slab.  If she can eat, some nourishment would be good for her. The rest of you pray!”

With the room emptied, Gracie turned her full attention to her patient. 

“Delcie, why don’t you get some cool water?  Not cold, see what the temperature is in the stove’s reservoir.  I imagine it’s cooled down from the morning’s fire.”

“Yes ma’am.  I’ll be right back,” Delcie answered as she disappeared out the doorway.

Gracie spoke to her sister, “Lottie, you’ve not said a word, barely moaned with all that wrestling about.  I need you to wake up for me now.  You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on with you.”

Gracie moved about the room, even as she spoke, slipping Lottie’s shoes from her feet and untying her apron.  As she worked to remove the pins holding her sister’s hair in a bun, Lottie began to stir, moving her head from side to side.

As Lottie raised her left hand slowly to her brow, Gracie tried again to question her. “Lottie, are you wakin’ up?  Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Ooooh, oooh, Gracie, is that you?”

“Yes, honey, of course it’s me.  Do you think I’d be anywhere else when we’ve just plucked you out of the yard?”

“What? The yard?”

“Yes, yes, you fell.  Can you remember what happened?”

Lottie gave a single nod of her head then grimaced and answered with such a low voice that Gracie turned her head, trying to catch the sound.  “Yeah, the girls were all lookin’ down on me.”

“That’s when they found you.  Do you remember what caused you to fall?”

“My head hurts.  Oooh my head hurts.”

Gracie leaned in close to look at her eyes.  She placed her hand on her forehead.  Then she took her sister’s right hand and squeezed gently, there was no response.

“Lottie, let’s pray,” Gracie commanded.  “Heavenly Father, please put your healing hand on my dear sister.  Please give me wisdom to see what’s wrong and see what I need to do to help her.  Thank you for leading Delcie to find her and not allowing her to lie out there and make things any worse.  She’s hurting, Lord; please put your healing hand on her and relieve this pain in her head.  We thank you for your love and blessings on us and know that you are here with us right now. In the name of our precious Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”

Lottie whispered a weak ‘Amen’ but kept her eyes closed.

Delcie soon returned with a basin and towels and the two ladies gently bathed Lottie’s face, hands and arms.  The cool water woke her, just as Gracie hoped it would.

She smiled at her nurses and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before drifting off again.

Gracie pulled the blanket up and motioned to Delcie that they should leave the room.  Ruth was just starting through the door with coffee and bread but Gracie gently turned her around and they all slipped out allowing the curtain to close over the doorway behind them.