Appalachian Wednesday–Stack Cake

Stack Cake

Click on the photo for Jill Sauceman’s apple stack cake recipe. (East Tennessee State Univ.)

Once upon a time, people in Appalachia were poor and didn’t have much. (Now too many of them are poor and have lots of stuff, but that’s another post.) When it came time for a wedding there was no question of going down to the bakery to flip through pages of glossy photos while tasting the lemon, vanilla, and almond cake variations.There usually wasn’t even the possibility of getting Mom or Grandma or Great Aunt Eulah to bake a fancy cake. No one had enough to make a cake big enough to a whole wedding’s worth of people. Enter the stack cake.

The idea was that each family attending the wedding would bring a layer for the cake. Once everyone gathered, the layers–typically made with sorghum and ginger–would be stacked with dried apples that had been stewed in between. No one could afford to bake the whole cake, but they could usually manage one layer.

Of course, it could turn into something of a competition. The more popular the bride and groom, the more attendees, and the more layers to the cake. A delicious, Appalachian tradition!

If you’d like to read more about stack cake or try your hand at making one, check out this page from Appalachian Heritage Magazine. Wouldn’t it be fun to send the recipe out, then have a church potluck or family gathering and assemble one of these?

Writing the “Hook” for My Obituary

DeathI generally try to come up with blog posts all on my own. Well, mostly my own. But today I’m shamelessly borrowing from my friend Jamie Chavez who brought Harry Stamps’ obituary to my attention in one of her posts last week.

This is the BEST obituary ever written. Shoot, it’s one of the best essays ever written. If you only ever click on one link I post, click on this one and read Harry’s obit in full. It’s awesome.

Here’s how it starts: “Harry Weathersby Stamps, ladies’ man, foodie, natty dresser, and accomplished traveler, died on Saturday, March 9, 2013.”

Talk about a hook! Here’s how it ends: “Finally, the family asks that in honor of Harry that you write your Congressman and ask for the repeal of Day Light Saving Time. Harry wanted everyone to get back on the Lord’s Time.”

How can you not click over and read all the fabulous stuff in the middle? It was written by his daughter, Amanda Lewis, who apparently knows how to fish and choose a good hammer thanks to her dad.

Which got me thinking. No–not about whether my hammer is good enough–but whether my obituary will be worth reading. I once would have considered that in the context of accomplishments, now I’m thinking style.

Sarah Anne Loudin Thomas, perpetual optimist, secret junk-food snacker, and author of (what? at least a dozen?) best-selling novels passed away ________. Sarah died peacefully at home after eating a hot fudge sundae and while re-reading “Little House on the Prairie” for the bazillionth time.

While she had no children of her own, she was notorious for “borrowing” her nieces, her nephews and the children of her friends just long enough to make them difficult for their parents to handle. She loved to cook and even more to eat, but scoffed at anyone who used the word “foodie” or went on and on about eating what are basically weeds. While not a fan of fast food, she was never too proud to thoroughly enjoy drive-thru French fries. Lots of them.

Well–you get the idea. While it isn’t much fun to think about dying, this exercise really is a blast. So how about you? What would be the one-sentence “hook” for your obituary?

A Visit Home–Touring Laurel Fork

I spent last weekend in West Virginia visiting lots of family and just soaking up the ambiance of my favorite place. I’m the seventh generation to grow up on the land where my father still lives. I’m hopeful at least one of this batch of nieces and nephews will keep the legacy going.

Come go with me as I visit the home place.

French Creek GE DIGITAL CAMERA GE DIGITAL CAMERA GE DIGITAL CAMERA GE DIGITAL CAMERALaurel Fork United Methodist Church–that’s my dad out front. Got married here.

 

 

 

Aunt Bess’ house. She lived to be almost 102. If you read “Miracle in a Dry Season” this is where the Talbot sisters live.

 

 

Laurel Fork–I bathed here almost as much as I did at home all those growing up summers (Ivory soap floats). It was a huge treat to go the swimming hole just a little ways upstream of this spot.

 

 

 

The Phillips family cemetery is on this knoll on a neighbor’s property.

 

 

 

One of the stones in the old cemetery. It says G.L. Loudin–we’re actually not entirely sure who that was.

 

 

 

 

I’m so incredibly blessed to have access to such a rich history. I’m grateful that I’m finally old enough–and perhaps wise enough–to appreciate it.

Raccoon Rock–A True Appalachian Tale

Raccoon RockI don’t have to look far for inspiration for my Appalachian novels. Most of the members of my family are storytellers and they have plenty of stories to tell. Last weekend we loaded up in the car and drove around French Creek just so I could refresh my senses with the place I try to bring to life in my novels.

When I took this picture of Raccoon Rock, Dad reminded me of the family story that goes along with it. When one of his aunts was a young woman her brother made her an offer–if she spent the night in a small cave halfway up the rock, he’d buy her enough silk to make a dress. She did–and took her baby with her. But the brother only bought her cotton, not silk.

That’s a pretty good story right there. But imagine what more there might be:

  • Danger–mountain lions were rumored to roam those woods back then (still are!). It took a brave woman–or one desperate for a new dress–to take up this challenge.
  • The Baby–why take the baby? Did her husband refuse to keep it? Could she find no one else? Or did she selfishly want the company?
  • The Silk–why did the brother fail to supply silk? Did he not have the money? Could he not find silk? Did she turn practical and ask for cotton instead?
  • Setting–was it dark that night? Or maybe there was a full moon. Did a painter scream in the night? Was she afraid? Or did she sleep soundly without a snoring husband by her side? Was it warm? Or did she catch a chill? Might she have built a small fire?

The possibilities are endless! And what fun to take this kernel of a story and nurse it into a full fledged tale or maybe weave it into a novel. While I’d love to know more about the facts of this story, I’ll confess it’s pure pleasure to build upon. And there, I think, is the root of writing for me. I write because I want to know how the story goes–even if I have to make it up as I go along.

At Last–Three Book Contract!

Signing the contractI returned from a visit home to WV to find my three-book contract from Bethany House awaiting me. Last time I returned from a WV trip my agent contract was waiting. Seems like visits home are good for my writing career!

Which is appropriate, because while my primary writing goal is to glorify God, I also hope to bring positive attention to the wonders of the state where I was born. Tune in later this week and I’ll be sharing some of that with you!

In the meantime, please join me in giving thanks as my literary dreams come true. The first book is to be released Summer 2014. Phew!

The original author fan base–Mom

Mom quoteSunday is Mother’s Day–you probably knew that. And I get to spend it with my mom, which is a real treat!

As I head to WV to see my family and celebrate my mother, I wanted to say how grateful I am for my biggest fan–my mom. We have long shared a love of books and all along my road to publication she’s been my most steadfast cheerleader.

So when I found this quote from Robert Brault (a freelance writer who seems to specialize in saying quotable things), I knew I had my Mother’s Day post. It’s good to have someone in your life who will always brag on you no matter what.  (And I have more than one! Dad, your turn is coming.)

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom–and thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

Seven Ways to ROCK Appalachia

creek rocksWhen I was younger, people would ask my dad what we farmed in West Virginia. “Rocks, mostly,” he would say. And it was true. Every spring he would disc the garden and we would harvest a trailer load or two of rocks that would be broken up and added to the dirt road leading to the house.

I don’t know how it was that the garden produced rocks while the road consumed them, but it’s the way it was. Rocks–their presence where you didn’t want them and absence where you did–were just a way of life in the mountains. Which means we had creative uses for them.

I was reminded of this when we were hiking and my husband tossed a rock into the trees while Thistle was looking the other way. She immediately bounded after the noise, pinpointed the rock that likely had my husband’s scent on it, and reported back to us.

Good use #1–entertaining dogs. We once had a dog named Fred who would not only fetch rocks, he would fetch them from the bottom of the pond. And it was always the right rock, too. Dad frowned on this activity.

Good use #2–throwing. Throwing rocks is the height of good fun when you’re a kid in the country. There’s skipping stones across the pond, heaving rocks into any available water to make the biggest splash possible, seeing who can throw a rock the farthest, and, of course, throwing rocks at each other. No, it never turns out well, but it’s fun in the beginning.

Good use #3–cool summer fun. The only things better than catching crawdads in a creek are rock hopping (crossing the creek without getting wet) and dam building (piling rocks up to create a pool). Our clothes rarely fared well, but this was a guaranteed way to keep my brothers and I busy for long stretches on a hot summer afternoon at Grandma’s.

Good use #4–decoration. When you have an abundance of rocks, you can use them to outline your flower beds, build stone walls, and line pathways. Big rocks work as stepping stones. Pretty rocks work as focal points amongst the flowers.

Good use #5–climbing. Not only are there lots of little rocks, there are huge boulders perfect for scaling. When we were kids we climbed all over Sheep Rock at the far end of the pasture. There was even a sort of little cave that you can slip down to from the top. As an adult I’ve looked at it and can’t believe how fearless I was.

Good use #6–weights. Rocks hold down tarps, paper, cloths on picnic tables, napkins, and a whole world of other things that might otherwise flap away in a stiff breeze.

Good use #7–remembering. Okay, this may not be an “Appalachian” use, but it’s one I appreciate. I have a lump of coal on my desk at work. I have a rock I was given at a Bible study event that says, “Wait for God,” along with the date. My mom once toured New England and picked up a rock in each state and wrote the name of the state on it. They sat on the mantle for a long time. A very good use.