Makeshift Appalachia: DIY Morning Glory Trellis

Hello Appalachia!

     I got a little bit of free time today, so I decided to try something new. If there is one thing we're known for here in the mountains, it's ingenuity and making due with what we have (bathtub gin, anyone?). So I thought I'd add a new feature to the blog called Makeshift Appalachia where I show you how to do a DIY project to help you out on your Appalachian journey.

    I dabble in just about every craft known to man/Pinterest. I knit, crochet, weave, sew, embroider, cook, scrapbook, and anything else you think of. My latest obsession is planting flowers. I live in an apartment in the less rural part of West Virginia, so I don't have a yard I can dig around in. What I do have is a porch, tons of containers, and an 8 pound bag of potting soil. I've got 16 different pots right now with sunflowers, lilies, flytraps, marigolds, sea shell flowers, and many more. What I've been most excited about is my morning glories. And if you're familiar with them, you know they like to climb. Like I said, I'm limited to growing on my porch, so I had to get creative. After a little digging around I finally came upon a tutorial on YouTube showing survivalists how to make a net. I took that idea and turned it into a temporary trellis for my morning glories.

Before something damaged some of the leaves.

     So if you want to plant morning glories or other vines with minimal space, or if you want to know how to make a net to trap some food and/or a man, check out this tutorial for a DIY trellis.

         You'll need some sort of string, scissors, and tacks or nails. I used hemp rope, which you can get at Wal-Mart for about $5. You also need to decide where you're going to plant them, ideally, between two porch posts. Since my porch has already been occupied, I'm going to show you how to do it using two chairs and some yarn, just for demonstration. Here we go.

I'm sure you have something like this laying around the house.

Step 1: Secure a strand between your posts, and ignore my messy craft room.

You can use tacks for extra security on your porch posts.

Step 2: Cut some lengths of string that will be about twice as long as you want your net to be. Fold them in half, and lay the folded strands over the horizontal one. Tie a slip knot with your folded string. I'm using two different colors of yarn so you can see what I'm doing a little better. 

Do this across the width of horizontal strand. Space them about 2-2.5 inches apart. 

Step 3: Take the inner stand from reach one, and use those two to tie a slipknot. 

Do this across the width of your horizontal strand. It should look like a row of triangles.

Do the exact same thing for the next row. Place the inner strands together and tie a slip knot. This should give you a row of diamonds. 

Just keep repeating this until your net is the length you want. Try to make your diamonds the same size. It tends to get a little wonky in some places, but your flowers won't mind. 

When you've reached the desired length, you need to take the strands of the bottom corners and secure them to your post or your banister or something. If you grew up in the hills, you'll be able to rig it to your liking. 

Add another horizontal strand where you want the bottom of your trellis to be. 

Tie the long ends to this horizontal strand, all the way across. 

And there you have it. You can always take the store-bought route and get some chicken wire if you want something a little prettier, but I think this works just fine. 

The final step is to set your potted morning glories beneath it. I would suggest tying them down if they're up on a banister. I staked a few BBQ skewers in the pots so the flowers could climb right up the skewers and onto the trellis. This was a very successful endevour for me. 

The only downside to this method is that your morning glories are now outside for good. You can't move them once they're woven around the trellis. This most recent cold spell may have nipped several of my leaves and one of my plants looks awful, but the stems are still green and springy, so I'm hopeful that they'll keep growing. It could possibly be a plant disease like canker, which would require snipping away infected vines. I don't know, but I'm hoping for the best, If not, I have another pot of morning glories still growing inside to replace them if necessary. If you have advice about morning glories, please send it my way. Thanks for reading! 

Do you have a green thumb? Is there an Appalachian DIY project you think I should I try? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com or Facebook! If you try this out, I'd love to see your results, so feel free to share it on my page. 

April's Featured Appalachian!

Greetings Hillfolk!

     I'm going to start this one with a warning. This one is sad. I'm already torn up just thinking about it, but I would still like to share this Appalachian's life and legacy with you because she was such a major part of my Appalachian experience. I'm going to tell you about an Appalachian whose birthday would have been this month. Without further ado, here's the story of Yodie.

     

     When I was in elementary school, my mother took some sort of pure-bred wild hair and started collecting Boston Terriers. That's an exaggeration. Her co-worker gave her a Boston named Popeye, and a few years later we bought Yodie. Yodie was the alpha pretty much from the start, and she beat up Popeye frequently. She would beat up anything. This story spans almost two decades, so these events are not chronological, but they'll warrant a few chuckles, I'm sure. 

     Aside from beating up Popeye, she would also try to beat up anything and anyone that came in our yard. She ran around with a slight limp, and this is because she took on a tractor and injured her hip. Territorial isn't an adequate word here. She was a dog obsessed. She had some sort of sixth sense that alerted her to the happenings of all four corners of the yard. If you encroached on her territory, you paid with your life (or your pants leg, depending on your size). 

     Being the loyal, bat-faced terror that she was, she always shared her spoils of her war on nature with her masters. On many, many, MANY, occasions, we walked outside to find the remnants of birds, rats, moles, rabbits, and anything else that she could catch. Her thirst for blood made me look like a jerk, because I was the crazy lady throwing rocks at rabbits and cornering the neighbors' chickens because I wanted to spare them. My sister and I once spent a whole day chasing someone's half-tame, released rabbit because it kept coming into our yard. I'm not in shape, but thankfully, neither was that pet rabbit. 

My worst enemy. 

 

     I wish that wascally wabbits were the least of our worries with Yodie. One of my favorite Yodie stories is the one about a very unfortunate groundhog. In areas with few natural predators, (my neighborhood isn't exactly crawling with hawks or coyotes), groundhogs can weigh up to 30 pounds. Bostons usually get to around 25 pounds, but females (i.e. Yodie) tend to be smaller. Being a dog fueled by bloodlust and no access to Wikipedia, Yodie did not consider this, so she took on the groundhog anyway. She chased it under the porch where I assume a cartoon fight cloud ensued.

They have clip-art for literally everything. 

   

     This is where it gets really Appalachian. This groundhog outweighed Yodie, but she would literally fight it to the death, so my parents decided to intervene with what was the most hilarious case of almost manslaughter ever. My dad put on his hillbilly thinking-cap (his only thinking-cap) and decided that the only way to approach this was to have my mother spray the hose under the porch, to flush the offending woodchuck out, and he would be standing ready with his rifle. Take a moment to let this scenario sink in. Groundhog/dog fight, water hose, a loaded firearm. I couldn't make this stuff up. 

    

      My mom, who is notoriously afraid of all wild animals, sprayed the hose under the porch in hopes the groundhog would run out the other side where my dad stood ready, finger on the trigger. In reality, the groundhog ran out the side where my mom was, where she proceeded to scream and flail and spray my armed father with a water hose, and Yodie was still not through with the groundhog. Eventually, the groundhog was dealt with, and Yodie suffered only a few scratches. In summary, my dad almost shot my mom over a water hose and a groundhog. 

     Another time Yodie got banged up defending our property is when my brother's four-wheeler was stolen. I was home alone, and asleep in my room. When everyone got home, they couldn't understand why the four-wheeler was gone. Had a relative borrowed it? What was going on? While inspecting the shed, they noticed Yodie was limping and sore, and this is what led us to the conclusion of a stolen four-wheeler and an attack on our dog. These were injuries she sustained trying to defend her family. As much as I would have liked for her to leave the rabbits and chickens and cats alone, I realize now that everything she did, she did because it was her way of trying to keep us safe. 

     As fearless as she was when it came to intruders, her one weakness was thunder. Yodie was horribly gun-shy, and the reason is Popeye's love of firecrackers. He loved those little snapping ones that you throw on the ground, he loved the ones that went off in a series, and he was just wild on the Fourth of July. Yodie was still a puppy on her first July 4th celebration, and apparently the onslaught of firecrackers didn't amuse her like they did Popeye. I spent countless summer evenings sitting with her on the porch, because she was so terrified of thunder. We couldn't let her in the house because of the cats, so I would just sit with her as long as I could. She had a heated dog house, and after awhile, she'd always go burrow into her blankets, but I tried to comfort her for a bit.

Taken during a thunderstorm.

     When I was in middle school, Popeye got a bowel obstruction that required surgery. He did bounce back from it, and he died a few weeks later from a suspected stroke. For the remaining 8 years of her life, Yodie would still jump up and look around if you said his name. (Are you weeping yet?) They had a litter of puppies several years ago. I still see one occasionally. Her name is Lucy and she was adopted by my mom's uncle.

My sister, myself, and our infestation of Boston Terriers.

     We had Yodie for 14 years. In the last year, she seemed to go blind and deaf at the same time. She required soft food, and she started to wonder off on the rare days she was able to leave her bed. She was put down last summer following an injury that I won't even describe. We buried her next to Popeye. I try to avoid being philosophical about death, but I think it's fitting that she got to become a part of the land she spent her whole life protecting. Thanks for reading. 

Do you have a pet that's helped to shape your life in Appalachia? Do you have a relative or friend that would like to see as a Featured Appalachian? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com 

     

     

The Babcock Grist Mill, The Island in the Sky, and Lover's Leap at Hawk's Nest

Hello Appalachia!

     I apologize for the weeks of no posts, but the semester is ending, and I am up to my eyeballs in chemistry tests. Luckily, I got a nice break last weekend. We ventured to Craigsville last weekend to see my parents for Easter, and we took the scenic route back home to Huntington. This route goes through Fayette County, the home of Babcock State Park and Hawk's Nest State Park.

     Our first stop was the Grist Mill at Babcock. The current mill is called the Glade Creek Grist Mill, and it's an operational replica (completed in 1976) of Cooper's Mill, which existed at this location before Babcock was even considered to be a state park. This mill was constructed using salvaged parts from three other West Virginia mills: Stoney Creek Grist Mill, Spring Run Grist Mill, and the Onego Grist Mill. During the tourist season, the mill is open for visitors to view the inner workings.

     The water wheel is powered by the adjacent stream, obviously. Right next to the mill, is a lovely waterfall. I've loved waterfalls ever since I first saw Pocahontas dive off of one with her raccoon in tow.  This waterfall isn't exactly dive-worthy, but it had been pouring the rain the previous week, so the stream was swollen and the falls were gushing. There are several paths and stairs down to the stream, and we rested in the cool spray of the falls for a few minutes before continuing our journey. 

Next, we crossed the bridge and headed on to some other attractions at Babcock.

     A road goes up the hill, and at the end of that road is Boley Lake. During the warmer months, it offers fishing, paddle boats, and various other water activities. We didn't stay long at this part of the park, but I would love to come back in the summer and try out a paddle boat. 

     On the way back down the curvy hill, we saw a sign marking the entrance of a trail. I was still in my Easter dress and very inappropriate shoes, but I allowed myself to be talked into at least checking it out. I admit, the sign was intriguing, and I was curious to see what it was telling me to be cautious of. 

     I don't especially hate heights, but I'll be the first to point out that I'm clumsy; combine that with the aforementioned shoe situation, and you'll understand why I was so nervous. The trail is about half a mile from the parking area, and you're pretty much swallowed in laurel bushes from Step 1. They're the state flower for a reason, right? Along the main trail, there are a few small trails that lead to craggy outcroppings of rock. For the life of me, I cannot find a decent topographic map, so I can't tell you how high these cliffs were, but we were above the treetops, and my knees have never shaken so hard in my life. 

     The ledge we stood on was probably 5 or 6 feet wide, and the view was remarkable. All fear aside, this was an amazing experience. I just want to spend the rest of my life on the edge of a cliff in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, I live in the Appalachian Mountains, and there is ample opportunity for this! 

Smile through the fear.

      We eventually tiptoed back down the mountain and headed toward our last stop of the day. Hawk's Nest State Park is located in nearby Ansted, and the overlook provides a lovely view of the New River Valley. The last time we went to Hawk's Nest, we saw an actual hawk. I know hawks are common, but it was a hawk at Hawk's Nest, it was cool. This park has numerous activities to offer, including an aerial tram and jetboat rides. I haven't ridden the tram yet, but I intend to try it as soon as I can. I'm also going to mention that whitewater rafting is a popular activity, not only here, but in most of the state parks in Fayette County, home of the famous New River.

     Once again, I'll leave you with a local legend. The overlook is located on a 585 foot bluff that overlooks the New River Gorge. It was referred to as Lover's Leap by settlers, and it involved a tale of two young lovers from two different Native American tribes who committed suicide over cultural obstacles in their romance. An alternate version of the legend involves two young settlers whose parents would not allow them to be married, and they ran away to the bluff, where the young woman accidentally fell, and the man jumped after her in his grief. I'm adding a link that has detailed accounts of both versions, and it's much better written. I personally like the one with the Native Americans jumping together in defiance.

http://files.usgwarchives.net/wv/fayette/history/loverslp.txt

Have a great day! 

Do you have any favorite hiking spots/overlooks/waterfalls? Do you know any Appalachian legends? I'd love to hear them and learn some new places to explore! Drop me a line at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com

Also, I'm looking for someone to be April's Featured Appalachian! If you know someone (parents/grandparents/friends/authors/etc.) that has helped to shape your Appalachian experience, please get in touch at the above email address.