Appalachian Thursday–Home Remedies

HelvetiaI’ve been doing battle with an awful, lingering cold. I pretended I was getting better for ten days, then succumbed and spent a day laying around drinking lots of tea and taking cold remedies in hopes of shaking it.

Which got me thinking about what folks did in the days before Tylenol Cold and Mucinex.

I have a handy little book titled “Oppis Guet’s Vo Helvetia” that’s a collection of recipes and household hints from the Swiss village of Helvetia in West Virginia. There are several recipes for cold cures there including:

  1. Onion Syrup – Good for croups and colds. Slice onions very thing and layer in a pan with sugar. Sit the pan in a warm oven with the door open and sweat syrup out of the onions. Take it by the teaspoon.
  2. Horehound Candy – For coughs. Boil one handful of fresh horehound leaves in water and strain. To each pint of tea, had a half pound of brown sugar, and boil on the stove until it reaches the hard ball stage. Pour into a greased pan and cut into squares once it’s almost cool.
  3. Cure-All – (This is my favorite.) Add a drop of lamp oil to a teaspoon of sugar. The book says, “If this didn’t work, you got well on your own.”

Based on these, sounds like I’d do fairly well to just take a teaspoonful of sugar and go to bed!

How about you–do you have any tried and true remedies for a cold?

 

Goals: When Dreams Meet Reality

Reading glassesLast week I came within two pounds of reaching what I have long thought of as my ideal weight. And I realized something . . .

. . . losing those last two pounds probably isn’t going to make an actual difference in my life. I had this sort of vague idea that once I got to this magic number my body would be different. And it is. Just not in the ways I imagined. I’m still what you might call pear-shaped. I still have that softening flesh on the undersides of my arms. I still don’t want to be seen in a bathing suit–unless it’s one of those Victorian dress things.

Reaching my goal is a good thing–but it hasn’t transformed me into a swimsuit model. MAYBE, my body just isn’t built for modeling swimsuits. Maybe I’m just the same ole ME, only a few pounds lighter.

And isn’t that the way with goals?

All too often, I think once I meet X goal, my life will be different. And by different I mean better. Much, much better. Once I get married. Once I get the perfect job. Once I move into the perfect house. Once I win a writing contest, get an agent, find a publisher, have a book in print, have five books in print, win that award . . . and on and on.

There are two problems with pinning your hopes and dreams on meeting a specific goal. 1) When you meet it, it isn’t quite what you expected. It’s good–but it’s not magic. 2) Turns out there’s another goal just beyond it. It’s good to meet my goal weight, but now I need to work on fitness. It’s good to have multiple books in print, but now I wonder if it’s something I could ever earn a living at.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t have goals. But I am suggesting that goals are simply checkpoints along life’s highway. They aren’t a destination so much as an overlook where you stop, take in the view, and decide where to head off to next.

So how about you? What goal are you currently working toward and what do you think will happen when you get there?

Appalachian Thursday–Going to Ireland

Ireland UMC
Photo from the Irish Spring Festival Facebook page. Click on image to learn more.

When I drive from NC to the farm, I get to pass through Ireland. Of course, like Paris, KY, or Rome, GA, it’s really a sweet little town stateside. Still, I get a kick out of it.

This week they’re holding the Irish Spring Festival, which is always planned around St. Patrick’s Day. There’s lots of green, shamrocks, good food, and road bowling (more about that in a moment).

The event was launched 36 years ago by the Shamrock Community Educational Outreach Services Club. A king and queen are selected and there’s typically a parade populated with pedestrians, farm equipment, animals, and a whole lot of kids. There are probably more people IN the parade than watching it.

The festivities actually kicked off last Sunday with a flag raising, the dedication of a free library, and a Pot ‘O Luck covered dish dinner. The day wrapped up with a Psalms of Ireland hymn sing at the United Methodist Church (see photo above).

And, of course, there’s road bowling. Ireland is famous (well, locally famous!) for being a hub for the sport. Basically, the idea is to roll a heavy, metal ball (it used to be cannon shot) as far as you can along the road without it rolling out of the road. Curvy, mountain roads are, of course, more challenging.

Back in 2012 some road bowlers ended up playing along the rural road where I live. Turned out they were from West Virginia! Click HERE to read more about that.

All in all, the Irish Spring Festival is exactly the sort of thing I miss about my West Virginia home. Local people getting together for some pretty uncomplicated fun and fellowship. If you’re ever in central West Virginia, check ’em out

Love it or hate, you just LOST an hour

sunrise with deer
The sun will STILL rise and set on its own schedule.

We’re now on Daylight Saving Time–or “fast time” as my grandmother called it (since that first day just flies by!). Blech. My circadian clock is firmly meshed in a standard 24-hour cycle. Yesterday, someone robbed me of an hour (hmmm, I think that was an hour of writing time!).

Some helpful folks out there offer tips for dealing with the lag created by the time change, but I’m not sure they’re all that practical.

The first is to set your clock ahead in 15 minute increments for four days prior to the change. I have a hard enough time keeping up with my schedule without changing a standing 10 a.m. appointment to 10:15, then 10:30 . . .

Another tip is to go to bed an hour early the night before. Done. But it’s DARK when I get up now, so I’m not fooling myself at all. I’m just well rested AND grumpy about how dark it still is when I take Thistle for her morning constitutional.

Studies even show that the incidence of heart attacks rise the day after we “spring forward” and decrease after we “fall back.” Can’t we leave the clock alone for the good of our collective health?!?

I know, soon enough I’ll be adjusted and will enjoy more daylight each evening for dog walking, writing, hiking, or just sitting on the porch. But I still don’t like the time change. Hopefully, one day I’ll live like my great-grandma Jane. She got up when it was light and went to bed when it was dark, letting her body tell her what was needed.

Because our bodies are smart. Waaaay smarter than whoever came up with Daylight Saving Time. And now, my body is suggesting that one of those peanut butter Easter eggs in the pantry would help me adjust–or at least distract me from the need to adjust.

Appalachian Thursday–Civil War Stories

sarah brandon
Photo from Civilwartalk.com

I keep stumbling upon stories that make me think I may have to buckle down, do the research, and write a Civil War novel one of these days.

Last week I learned about Sarah Brandon, known as the “Mother of the Civil War.” I don’t think it’s the most apt nickname, but I didn’t get to choose. She lived in southern Ohio just across the WV state line from Moundsville and her claim to fame is having had 16 (SIXTEEN!!) sons fight in the Civil War. Of course, there were 23 (TWENTY-THREE!!) children in total and only ONE was a girl. Whoo-wee!

But the Civil War aspect isn’t what intrigues me most. It’s the sheer, raw character that Sarah Brandon presents. Here are a few bits and pieces gleaned from newspaper accounts:

  • She allegedly lived to be 113, although a birth record is hard to come by.
  • At the age of 15, she married a man who already had TEN children.
  • In all, she outlived THREE husbands even though she was the one who must have been pregnant pretty much all the time.
  • Her sons were described as “Large, rugged men, noted for their strength, stamina, and endurance.”
  • Near the end of her life she lived in a cabin with her son Evan who was known as an expert wood craftsman as well as reckless and adventurous (he was in his 70s by then).
  • Even when she was supposed to be more than 100 years old, Sarah would walk the mile to town regularly. Perhaps to buy the strong “scrap” tobacco she smoked in her pipe. She was quoted as saying, “Life without my pipe would not be worth living.”
  • She was blind in one eye since childhood. Her then 11-year-old brother shot her right eye out with a bow and arrow.

I mean c’mon. You can’t make up stories this good!

 

Worry Fast Step 2–Identify

relationshipsLess than a week into my worry fast I thought I was doing pretty well. I’d avoided some of the big pitfalls (much to my surprise). Mostly, I’d managed not to fret over family issues–Mom, Dad, my niece–praying and leaving them in God’s capable hands.

Sunday morning I sat in church as the pastor talked about spiritual practices, feeling pretty good about this fast that I originally thought might be sort of impossible. Then it hit me. I’d been worrying all week.

It’s what you might call a low-grade kind of worry. Turns out I’m a relational worrier.

While I managed to think about the big issues without descending into worry, I absolutely fretted over things like:

  • Calling a friend I hadn’t seen in too long.
  • Visiting neighbors I keep meaning to visit.
  • Inviting a friend to use tickets another friend gave me.
  • Wondering if I’d spent enough quality time with a friend I see too rarely.
  • How often I should call family members.
  • Finding time to deepen and nurture relationships I care about without depleting myself or taking away from my relationship with my husband.

It’s not like I was waking up in the night wondering what should I DO?!? I just had all these niggling little thoughts–worries–popping up in my peripheral vision from time to time. And I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

So, step 2 in fasting from worry is realizing what it is, exactly, I worry about.

 

Appalachian Thursday–7 Spring Favorites

Spring is technically still a ways off, but we have daffodils, forsythia peeking out, warmer days (followed by COLD ones), and last night I heard the first peepers of the season. So I’m indulging my spring fever with seven things I love about this time of year.

1) Snow on daffodils. In spite of warmer days, we’ll occasionally wake to a fluffy dusting of snow that clings to branches and flower petals without making a mess of the roads. Pretty then gone. Just the way I like my snow! Growing up, snows like that were called “poor man’s fertilize” and farmers would hurry to plow it under in the garden before it melted.

2) Peepers. I love to wake to the song of the little frogs singing and then walk with them at dusk. It’s the music of spring!

3) Fresh asparagus. I think it’s kind of a shame that you can get just about any produce any time of year these days. I remember how Mom treasured those first asparagus shoots poking up through the warming soil. Thank goodness for farmer’s markets where you can still find the real thing! Of course, my great-grandmother wouldn’t have had such fancy fixins–she would probably have enjoyed poke sallat or dandelion greens.

4) Fiddleheads. There’s just something about those tightly furled fronds that’s gorgeous to me. When hiking with my husband year round, I love to point out flowers and plants. He calls them ALL “fiddleheads.”

5) Lambs. When I was a kid, spring was all about the new calves. Dad and would walk out to check on the mothers about to give birth. Now I get to drive past a local farm college’s lambing pasture every morning and evening. And yes, I will pull over to watch lambs frolic. I mean, how can you not?!?

6) Seed catalogs. I don’t grow many vegetables anymore (even when I try, I don’t grow many!), but I still love flipping through the pages of those colorful catalogs. Giant tomatoes, golden corn, plump strawberries, crookneck squash, new potatoes, baby lettuces . . . Oh, shoot. Maybe I will plant something this year!

7) Open windows. It’s a bit early yet, but any time the temperature creeps upwards of 65 I sneak a window open at least for a little while. The day I can leave them open all night listening to the peepers will be perfection!

What do you love about spring?