Chincapin Nuts

The following article is re-posted from Backwoods Adventures. I’ve shared their articles a few times - Scott doesn’t blog very often but whenever he takes the time to share, I always learn something and I want to share it! He has been beyond gracious in allowing me to do so, as well as sharing pictures he brings back from his remote jaunts.

Just one note for you - I suppose this article was the first time I’ve ever seen the word CHINCAPIN in writing. We always call them “Chinky-pins” and I would’ve had to look it up to spell it correctly!

The American Chincapin

We recently ran across one of my favorite treats in the backcountry! A delicious wild nut called a Chinquapin.

The American Chinquapin (Castaneda pumila) is a “species” closely related to the chestnut although smaller. Also commonly known as the Allegheny Chinquapin or dwarf chestnut.

It is a deciduous tree found mostly in the eastern and southeastern United States. Sadly populations have declined over the last several year.

The Chinquapin tree can range in size from a small looking shrub to a small looking tree.

It’s nuts are edible and quite sweet when mature in the fall of the year. It has single seed burs. This means each burr that opens into two halves will have one small nut inside which gives the tree a distinctive chestnut look.

Legend has it that Captain John Smith not knowing what they were wrote the first European record of a Chinquapin in 1612. “The Indians have a small fruit growing on a little tree, husked like a Chestnut. This they call a “Checkinquamins”, which they esteem a great daintie.”

All the World's a Classroom

I’ve been sharing with you a little about my experience homeschooling, and you know I’m always making this mental comparison with things from the past.  This education-experience is no different.

Just a few weeks ago I wrote here comparing modern schools to education down through history and noted how much of education in the past came through the home and from parents.  Even understanding that historical model, it’s hard to tear myself away from what I know of school – textbooks and teachers, homework, tests and written answers.  But all of the world is certainly a classroom, isn’t it?

I have a growing circle of experienced homeschooling moms, and I hope some of y’uns will comment on this because I certainly recognize my inexperience.  They are well aware of the extensive resources available to them.  Sometimes that’s a museum or library, and other times it’s a walk in the woods.

As I open my eyes (and pray moment-by-moment for wisdom, I’m realizing there are lessons around every corner.

Caleb had a reading assignment that talked about the Jewish New Year, and of course he had a lot of questions about it.  In the story, a family immigrated to America from Russia and they missed the holiday traditions in their homeland.  So we skyped with my dear Israeli friends and they told us all about their celebration just days before, even showing us some of the foods they had left over – how I wish we could’ve visited in-person and tasted some of those!

We’ve been learning about evergreen versus deciduous trees and Daddy took a walk with us teaching what kinds of trees grow on the Plateau.  We collected acorns and talked about how Native Americans were able to use them as food – and the cleansing process necessary to make them safe. 

Science lessons on cold-blooded animals led us to the Tennessee Aquarium – but could just as easily have landed us alongside the pond with rods and reels in hand (now that I think about it, I can’t believe my husband let a perfectly good fishing opportunity pass him by!).

Ruthie is always eager to help in the kitchen, and as I was telling you last week, I try to take every opportunity to teach the recipes and techniques Grandma taught me. (And I hear Grandpa’s voice echoing in my head, “When you’re old enough to actually help, you won’t WANT to help.”)

We’ve just gotten a sewing machine for Ruthie and she has big plans to make clothes for herself and everyone around.  Thankfully (for my limited seamstress-skills), I have a dear friend who’s already volunteered to spend time with her and the machine. 

Most all children are faced with the task of learning to read, write and count.  In years past most also learned to care for animals, cook meals and raise food, but those skills are diminishing these days.  I certainly hope I can give my children the computer training, foreign language skills and higher math they will need in their 21st century life while also instilling the 19th century abilities that will see them through any unexpected circumstances they may face.

Traditions

I love traditions – and I’m not a big fan of change.  As we move through Thanksgiving and into the Christmas season, traditions are one of the things I most enjoy about the holidays.  They root us to our families and communities as we are reminded of days past, and family no longer celebrating with us.  Yet these seem to be days of change, don’t they? 

Thanksgiving for many this year was small, unlike the rowdy meals of the past shared with a huge crowd, over-filled houses and tables bowed with the weight of a feast.  For some, there was the overshadowing of disease as loved ones either suffered with the Coronavirus or lived in fear of contracting it.  Travel restrictions will have kept some at home, especially if you have family living abroad.

Amid the Pandemic, political upheaval and protests, 2020 seems unique.  Yet change is always with us, as much as it pains me to admit it.  That change is one of the reasons our traditions are so important to people like me – even as elderly relatives step over into heaven, as children grow up another generation moves toward the age-related-constraints.

This year I made coconut-cream pie and verbalized the steps for my daughter, just as Grandma taught me.  I told her how this was Grandpa’s favorite kind of pie – I too love it and rarely eat it without thinking of Grandpa.  My mother-in-law has a signature macaroni dish but she’s no longer able to cook it.  So, this year she stood by me as I followed her instructions and created a facsimile that my family happily scarfed down. 

Heaven alone knows what Christmas and 2021 will look like, but I for one will keep repeating whatever traditions I can and remembering the joy of family and holidays past – I’ll probably be reminding you too!

Embellishing the World

Embroidery and needlepoint were once a hallmark of a young woman’s development.  Homes were decorated with colorful stitching from tablecloths to wall art and embellishments were worn or carried on blouses, purses and handkerchiefs.  Today it is rare indeed to find someone willing and able to hold a hooped fabric and create a design with nothing but needle, thread and imagination.

Historically, embroidery is associated with wealth, however, it is also something a skilled artisan can do showing her love for those in her care.  Thus, very modest homes could be decorated with these accessories, even if the thread was applied to coarse or cheap fabrics. 

Of course, I was taught to embroider as a child by – you guessed it – my grandmothers.  However, I haven’t practiced the skill in a long time and two completely different things have recently gotten me to thinking about it again.  First, as I shared here a few weeks ago, I have been entrusted with many heirloom pieces my husband’s grandmothers have made.  There was a lot of embroidery because one of them preferred stitching to crocheting or quilting.  And she created some lovely pieces that today have tatters and holes to prove they were used and enjoyed.  I can just imagine walking into her cheery home where table coverings would have flowers and vines flowing down them in neat stitches; pillows adorned the sofa and chairs with bright colored images and maybe a bible verse sewn into them. She would’ve had on a neatly pressed (and maybe starched) apron on which she’d embroidered still more floral art and edged it with a crocheted lace. If I peeped into the bedroom her pillows would be dressed in embroidered cases and the bed itself may have been covered with a stitched or crocheted spread. I can easily imagine these scenes because while I didn’t know her in those years, my own grandmothers and aunts had homes similarly turned out.

Secondly, a friend passed along to me a couple of books on silk ribbon embroidery.  This is a new technique for me, but it the art form really quite old.  Some of the very first embroidered work came from the far-east where silk was first produced. 

I tried to research why embroidery fell out of fashion but I can’t find any hard details on it.  This is traditionally women’s work – now don’t email me equal rights stuff, I’m simply stating history here.  And, as more and more women moved into the workforce, I imagine time for embroidery grew scarce – that certainly has been the case for me as too many things vie for my time.

I suppose as printed fabrics became more widely available, it was easy to decorate with them instead of using plain colors and adding needlework.  

Clothing fabrics have changed drastically over the years, with more and more knits, which aren’t as conducive to embroidery as woven cottons were, becoming ever more popular. And, of course, far fewer clothes are made at home today.   Still, prowess with a needle and thread is never really wasted and I certainly hope I can share those lessons from my Grandmas with my own daughter – who knows how the tides of fashion may change, it might be an invaluable skill in her lifetime!

Fall Revivals and Protracted Meetings

Well we’ve been in revival this week at Calvary Baptist Church. We had a visiting evangelist and a Pandemic-affected crowd. Yet The Holy Spirit was neither afraid of the gathering, nor was He surprised by the attendance. He bountifully blessed all who managed to be there.

As always during these meetings, I am reminded both of revivals during my childhood as well as those I’ve studied. So, I wanted to share again with you the thoughts I had during last years “protracted meeting”. That article was written just before I released Gracies’s Babies so there are references to the revival story I told there. I don’t have another book coming out this winter, but you can look for revival stories in most of them because these annual meetings were both a fixture of the harvest season on the mountain and a great gathering place and time.

Brother John Van Gelderen spoke to us this week and afterward he shared with me the idea to research and re-tell some of the historic Tennessee revivals. It’s a great idea that I intend to pursue - so stay tuned for those articles.

And that leads me to think that you readers may have been in some fine meetings as well and have stories to tell about them. Please click “comments” below and SHARE!

The following story includes a link or two from Callie Melton’s writings so I hope you’ll enjoy those:

My church has been in revival this week and coincidentally there’s also a revival meeting in the early chapters of Gracie’s Babies.  So, as we met an evangelist and prayed for the Spirit to move, my mind had already been on a “protracted meeting” and I couldn’t help but make a mental comparison.

You may recall in some of the writings by Callie Melton that I shared here last year, she talked about preachers coming into the neighborhood to hold “protracted meetings” – I like that term.  I guess that while we schedule special gospel meetings for 3-5 days they opened a revival and kept it open so long as the Spirit was moving.  And the Spirit did not disappoint in many of those meetings. 

Meeting in brush arbors or hot church houses, the crowd would often be standing room only.  Families walked, rode a mule or drove rough wagons sometimes for hours to attend.  Even in the 1980’s I remember revival meetings that were standing room only, and we didn’t have air conditioning for those August dates either. 

Today we’ll drive to church on smoothly paved roads in temperature controlled cars, sit in cool sanctuaries on padded seats.  There will be electric lights so no matter how late the preacher holds you, there’s little chance you’ll be sitting in the dark and a sound system ensures even those in the back of the building clearly hear the sermon.  Yet we’ll be lucky to have half the seats filled (okay that statement was void of any faith, wasn’t it?)

In the upcoming book, the Clear Creek Baptist Church hosts a traveling evangelist who preaches for a full week.  Gracie, the book’s protagonist, has to miss the first meeting as she attends a sick neighbor.  While she’s deeply blessed to be at the bedside there’s a pang of regret at missing the revival service – and all the action her sister comes home to report.  Not to fear though, Gracie and her family will make it to every other meeting that week as will young people from all of the surrounding communities.  It’s clear that the Bible lessons are only part of what those teens want from the services yet they eagerly participate in that part as well as the fellowship with old and new friends alike.

In fact, the meetings of old truly did revive those attending.  I’m not sure what’s changed in our crowds or our hearts since then but I sure wish we could get back to something close to the spirit of those protracted meetings.