Phrases of Appalachia

Hello Appalachia!

I polled the Appalachian Facebook masses last week for some phrases you hear in rural mountain communities. I don't think that all these sayings are strictly Appalachian, because I'm sure you also hear them in the south and probably the midwest. but I'm sure if you told someone in California that they're "crazier than an outhouse mouse," they would give you a funny look. The participation I got for writing this post was overwhelming, and I want thank everyone who participated. I couldn't possibly publish so many sayings, so I narrowed it down to my ten favorites. Some of them speak for themselves, and for some of them I included the poster's definition. I can assure you, grammatical infractions are intentional, and I truly think they spice up some of these mottos. So here you go: 

1. Make your bed hard, you turn over often. (Be careful of the choices you make.)
2. Shit fire and save the matches.
3. If you don't hush, I'm gonna give you something to cry about. 
4. Sounds like a dying dog in a hail storm. (Something making awful noise.) 
5. Finer than frog’s hair. (Something that’s really nice or fine.)
6. Gettin' too big for his/her britches (pants). (Someone is being cocky,)
7. I'll dust your britches. (Spanking)
8. Living a champagne life on a beer pocketbook. (Spending money hastily.)
9. Start out like you can hold out. (I think this one means don't bite off more than you can chew.)
10. If you're gonna be stupid, you better be tough.

     I would also like to add a few that I've heard my family use a lot. My dad is fond of describing lazy people by saying "He's never took a lick at a dead snake," which means this person is too lazy to even kill a dead snake, which maybe is difficult task? I'm not in the business of snake killing, so I don't know if it's taxing on the body. My grandpa tells me at least once a week "Don't take no wooden nickels." I'm assuming that means don't let anyone take advantage of you or fool you. And finally, I often catch myself saying "I've never seen the beat," which means I am shocked or can't believe something that just happened.

    I hope you've enjoyed these mountain phrases. I certainly smiled while reading them. Maybe you've even found something quirky to enhance your own vocabulary. A lot of the submissions were creative ways to threaten a spanking, which is a form of discipline that is rapidly fading from society, so maybe ten years from now, you'll tell your kid you're going to tan their hide, and they won't have a clue that their bottom could be in grave danger. I wonder how Appalachian language and dialect will evolve and transform in this booming technological age. I guess we'll see! Thanks for reading! 

*Do you have a favorite Appalachian saying? How did your grandparents threaten your behind? Let me know at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com, or on Facebook under the name MountainBlood WV. 

My Roadtrip to Charleston, South Carolina

Hello Appalachia!

      I've been a busy bee for the last month and a half, but I got a nice break this week in the form of a roadtrip to the deep south. So much scrimping, scraping, and sacrificing went into making this trip a reality, so I'm pretty sad that it was over so fast, but the days I spent in Charleston, South Carolina were wonderful.

     We started our trip at 7 a.m. and spent the whole day traveling from West Virginia to South Carolina. We stopped for lunch. It was my first time eating at Bojangles, (which is apparently a big deal to a lot of people). It was okay, but I think all the hype had my expectations a little too high. We rolled into Charleston around 5:30 in the evening, where we dropped off our bags at the hotel and continued on to Sullivan's Island. This moment in my trip was probably my favorite. I'm nearly 24 and this was my first time ever seeing the ocean. It was such a special moment.

     After some wading, I got to pick dinner. I was determined to continue the theme of "trying new things for the first time," so I chose sushi. After a lot of fumbling with the chopsticks and steeling myself for the likely event that my lunch from Bojangles would end up on the table, I took a bite. At the time, I really enjoyed it, but when I think about it now, I get so grossed out. I don't understand why, because I ate the entire plate of tuna/spicy mayo sushi. I also ordered a side of fried calamari (squid), and it really was delicious. I would forsake chicken nuggets for the rest of my life if I could just have fried calamari instead. Too bad we don't have squid here in the mountains.

    The next morning, we woke up super early and packed our picnic for our afternoon at the beach on Sullivan's Island. A sign at the entrance led me to believe that coyotes frequented the beach, and that I "shouldn't" feed them, which my wild mountain brain interpreted as "it is possible to feed them and temporarily join their pack for a day of coyote beach fun." But alas, no coyotes made an appearance.

    This beach is mainly used by locals who own the fancy beach homes, so there weren't very many people there at all. We snacked on our picnic, collected shells, and returned to our basket to find that a flock of seagulls had stolen our entire bag of pepperoni rolls. I hope they enjoyed them, because unless they come to West Virginia, it isn't likely they'll ever have them again.

    I also spent a lot of time playing in the ocean. I also got to experience a full on "fight or flight" response for the first time. I was chest deep in the salty water, which unlike the crystal lakes of my homeland, was very murky, I couldn't even see my feet. This made me wary enough. The real fun started when I thought I saw a bird floating on the water about 30 feet away from me. No big deal. I've shared my swimming space with ducks plenty of times. Until it suddenly disappeared. The ocean is noisy and choppy and constantly changing. I didn't let it alarm me, because I thought my eyes were being tricked by my ever changing surroundings. Until a moment later, before my very eyes, a big gray back with a big fin broke the surface of the water 20 feet from where I stood! Now, I've seen bears and snakes, and I've heard a pack of coyotes howling in the distance during a full moon, but in that moment, nature was no longer my friend. It was very likely a dolphin. The locals didn't seem too freaked out about it, but being from the sweet, dry land of Appalachia, I had no experience in discerning sharks from dolphins. My brain replayed every shark attack story I had watched on the news this summer. I thought of every movie where a fin breaks the water, and moments later, the ocean is a sea of blood. I high-tailed it out of that water faster than you can say "West Virginia or bust." I didn't get back in after that.

    After our lovely, mostly peaceful, slightly terrifying, morning on the beach, we decided to check out historic downtown Charleston. We hailed a horse and carriage, where we learned all about  the local architecture and history. I learned that the city used to be protected from pirates by a stone wall that was 20 feet high. I learned that the houses were vibrantly colored because of the slaver's who brought some of their culture from Barbados. During the Civil War, the city was under fire for over 500 consecutive days. Rice was briefly Charleston's main cash crop, until slavery was abolished, then the rice business died. Malaria was a major problem, especially for those working around the damp swamps. I swooned over the beautiful, southern style gardens. It was a very informative little tour, and a great way to kill an hour.

   We then explored the local farmer's market. It's my new goal in life to learn to weave baskets by hand. We had BBQ for dinner. We strolled along the beach, gathering more shells and watching the crabs scurry underfoot until it was too dark to see. We left early the next morning and came home to work and school and all the other obligations we managed to escape for 72 hours. Back to the grind. Thanks for reading!

Have you ever explored Charleston, South Carolina? Have you ever had a frightening animal encounter like my dolphin/shark experience? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com, or on Facebook under MountainBlood WV. 

 

Appalachian Science: Appalachian Blue People

Hello Appalachia!

    Did the title of this post rouse your interest? Am I talking about mountain folks who are down in the dumps? The registered Democrats of this region? Literal blue people? If you chose literal blue people, you are correct! You may be reading this and ask yourself, how can a person turn blue? What does this have to do with Appalachia? Let me explain.

    If you've read the "info" section of my page, you know that I am currently studying Forensic Chemistry. I'm in my 5th year, so I can explain a few droplets in the vast ocean that is science. One of my current courses is biochemistry, and last week we discussed the physical outcomes of flaws in our biological systems, and the topic of the Appalachian Blue People was brought up. I know that most of my readers haven't studied biochemistry, so I'm not going to get really technical with the upcoming condition. If my explanation is still too technical, please forgive me. Let's begin.

    So, what is this condition I'm referring to that makes (usually Caucasian) people have a blue tinge to their skin? It's called hereditary methemoglobinemia, or met-H. A famous case is the Blue Fugates of Hazard County, Kentucky. What is it? How does one acquire this condition? Is it harmful? I'm going to answer all those questions in the upcoming paragraphs.

    In a person with normal blood-related enzyme activity, a protein in our red blood cells, called hemoglobin, picks up oxygen molecules in the lungs and carries them to tissues all over our bodies. Hemoglobin contains iron, which is what grabs the oxygen and turns the blood bright red, it's the same reaction that forms rust. An iron nail will bind oxygen from the air, and your nail turns red. When your oxygen rich blood gets where it needs to be, the shape of the hemoglobin changes, and this makes that oxygen come off the red blood cell and go where it's needed. Once the blood has dropped off its oxygen, the "rust" effect is no longer happening, and the blood turns blue.

    There are several proteins and mechanisms in place that let your red blood cells know when to pick up oxygen and when to put it down, but that's beyond the scope of this blog. Just know that the iron in the hemoglobin picks up the blood, the pH of the tissues lets it know when it's time to let it go, and sometimes nature makes mistakes. Individuals with met-H have a malfunction in the machinery that makes the hemoglobin capable of grabbing oxygen, so it makes large amounts of that person's blood blue or brown. In a light-skinned person, this makes them appear blue instead of peachy pink.

     But how do you get it? Well, let's talk genetics. Everyone is made up of 50% Mom and 50% Dad. You only inherit met-H if you get the faulty gene from both parents. You need 2 copies to be blue. If you just have 1 copy, you won't be blue. So let's say Mom has 1 copy, and Dad has 1 copy. This means you have a 25% chance of not being affected or capable of passing one the gene. You have a 50% chance of not being blue, but you could pass on the gene to your offspring. Finally, you have a 25% chance of being blue, because you got both copies of the gene from both parents. If 2 blue people have a baby, there is pretty much a 100% chance that their child will be blue, because the only gene they can pass on is faulty. In small, isolated, mountain communities in the 1800s, people didn't have much issue with marrying a distant cousin, so the odds of mating with a carrier increased dramatically. That is to say, a pink carrier could marry someone with a shared ancestor, and if they had 4 children, at least 1 would be blue. Genetics can be confusing, so I'll try to add some helpful graphics.

    Finally, is it harmful? The symptoms are about what you would imagine of a person who carries large amounts of de-oxygenated blood. Fatigue, muscle problems, tissue damage. But it can be treated by making temporary repairs to the faulty machinery that prevents your red blood cells from picking up oxygen. These "repairs" can be made using ascorbic acid (Vitamic C) and methylene blue (I use it to dye cells that I'm viewing under a microscope). Methylene blue was used experimentally via IV drip, and within an hour, the blue individuals started turning "pink."

    I know this post is a real change in gears, but it's something that has been seen in our region, and it illustrates the results of that awful stereotype of cousins getting married. It's truly terrible, but it has happened, and met-H is one of the outcomes. There are some living descendants of the original Fugate clan, which settled in Kentucky in the 1800s. They decline most TV appearances and interviews, because like everyone, I'm sure they want to just live their lives in peace. This disease has also been seen in Alaska, another place isolated from other people who could add more variation in the gene pool. You get the same results.

   I hope you've found this interesting. I was very fascinated by it. I also got an A on that biochemistry test...just saying. If science and medicine aren't something you care to read about, I apologize. I just wanted to try out something new. If there are any scientific or medical anomalies in Appalachia that would like me to write about, please let me know. It is definitely my cup of tea. Let me know if you liked this. Thanks for reading!

You can send me questions, suggestions, and feedback at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com, or on Facebook, MountainBlood WV. 

 

July's Featured Appalachian!

Hello Appalachia!

     My summer biochemistry class is in full swing, and I am learning all about scurvy and perms and the horrors of thalidomide (see morning sickness, 1960s). I managed to get enough homework done to write up a quick post about this month's Featured Appalachian before the next onslaught of rain comes...hopefully I won't end up floating on a mattress in the Ohio River. So kick back, possibly on a raft, and check out the life story of my mom's neighbor, a lady called Lovonne.

     Almeda "Lovonne" Mullens Moore was one of five children belonging to Lloyd and Olive Mullens of Nicholas County, West Virginia. Olive was a homemaker, but she briefly worked in the kitchen of the Craigsville Motel, and Lloyd was a coal miner. Her chores growing up were feeding the animals on the farm, helping prepare meals, and helping with housework, she was also responsible for the sewing and laundry. She completed the 12th grade, and her first paid job was working at the Craigsville Drive-In (editors note: this theater should be re-opened instead of just serving as a large screen in the middle of a cow field). She first had a TV in 1950 and indoor plumbing in 1952.

Olive and Lloyd Mullens

Lovonne (I think in the white dress) with her brothers, sister, and parents. 

     Lovonne married her husband Alva Moore 1957. Together they have 4 children, 7 grandchildren, and 7 great-grandchildren. She has lived all but two months of her life in West Virginia, which she has enjoyed. She likes to watch the seasons change and take walks in nature while enjoying the beauty of West Virginia.

Lovonne and Alva with their children.

Stay dry and thanks for reading! 

Is there someone you would like to see as the Featured Appalachian? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com, or on Facebook under MountainBlood WV. 

   

The Long Point Trail at New River Gorge and The Tiny Town of Thurmond, WV

Greetings Appalachia!

    Summer is in full swing, and my family always enjoyed weekend day-trips as a productive and educational way to spend time together. This is probably what fostered my growing need for adventure, and I am always on the lookout for a new place to explore. Thanks to Google and some suggestions from members of the Mountain Blood community, I ended up exploring some more of Fayetteville, WV.

     July 4th dawned dreary and foggy, but this was my last weekend to travel before my summer class, so I didn't let the rain hold me back. The mister and I got up bright and early and headed to Fayetteville. We parked at the trailhead for the Long Point trail, grabbed our picnic basket full of pasta and snack cakes, and headed into the forest.

    The hike was 1.6 miles in each direction. I don't know how many avid hikers read this blog, but for a gal as un-athletic as myself, it was quite a workout, especially when it came to climbing the hills on the way out, but we took our time and enjoyed nature. The rain was unrelenting, but I preferred that over sweltering in the sun. We picked some wild blackberries, and tromped happily through the mud to what could possibly be the best view West Virginia has to offer. 

     Near the end, the fog had completely shrouded the mountain where we were hiking, and our whole world was just the surrounding rhododendron thicket and a cloud that engulfed the gorge. The trail eventually led to a narrow outcropping of rock on the side of the gorge. We could hear the rushing of the swollen New River, the chugging train below, and a distant waterfall on the opposite wall of the New River Gorge. 

A wild boyfriend in a rhododendron thicket. 

Still smiling through the fear. 

A remarkable view of my butt the bridge and the gorge. 

     This was definitely the highest cliff I've ever been on that doesn't have some sort of barrier. It's quite wide and flat, so that helped keep my mind at ease. We sat down on a rock facing the bridge and had our picnic. The view was stunning. 

    After we tore ourselves away from this cliff-side paradise, we decided to check out the town of Thurmond, WV. 

     Thurmond is a little railroad town hidden in the hills of Fayetteville. It consists of a few company houses, a one room town hall, and a bank. According to the 2013 census, the population of the town is 5. It used to be pretty active, but the population saw a dramatic and steady decline through the 1900s. It was used for the C&O railroad, and was the filming location for Matewan (1987). 

This is the town hall. 

     This town has a Wikipedia page if you're interested in the demographics of 5 people and the history of its singular railway. It's definitely cute and interesting, and if you happen to be in Fayetteville with some time to kill, look into it. The drive there was more exciting to me than the town itself because of the waterfalls and the overwhelming number of rhododendron blossoms in the forest along the road. Picture the sky on a really clear night, and then replace the stars with flower blossoms. They were that numerous. It was amazing. The sheer numbers in that forest alone justify the rhododendron being the state flower. 

    We returned to my parents' house for a shower and a nap and then enjoyed the illegal fireworks courtesy of the neighbors. It was a great day. Thanks for reading! 

Have you ever hiked around New River Gorge? Do you know any spectacular views I should seek out? Do you know any quirky little places like Thurmond? I'd love to hear about it mountainbloodwv@gmail.com. You can also find me on Facebook under MountainBlood WV, and now on Google+! 

Appalachian Review: Kirkwood Winery

 Hello Appalachia!

    I try to do three posts a month, and here we are at the end of June. I somehow lost all track of time, so hopefully you won't mind getting two posts in the same week. The power is out here due to the crazy weather (I came home to a tornado warning last night), so I'm writing this entire post from my phone. That's how I dedicated I am. I also cooked lunch using a candle and the grill off of the toaster oven. It's about to be a long day. So due to time constraints and the fact that I'm working on my phone, this one will be short.

Appalachians don't need electricity to cook!

     A few months ago, I was visiting Nicholas County (a lot of my blogs start this way), and I decided to check out the Kirkwood Winery in Summersville, WV. I'll be sure to attach the link for their website where you can read about the history and events, such as the Grape Stompin' Festival.

    It was a miserably rainy day when we went so we didn't look into a tour, but I intend to see these acres of grapevines for myself before I move away from this region. We just visited the Country Store and I bought two bottles of their wine to sample.
     I have never seen so many different types of wine. Ramp wine, dandelion wine, wine from every fruit you could ever imagine.

The store also sells merchandise such as wine glasses with their logo, cork holders, and stuff you'd expect to see in a wine store. They also have products I guarantee you won't find outside of Appalachia, such as Ramp Mustard. 

     Their wines can be purchased all over the state of West Virginia. I've seen it in gas stations and grocery stores everywhere. I'm not sure if you save money by purchasing directly from Kirkwood Winery, because the prices of the wines at the Amish Bulk Food store in Flatwoods were pretty consistent with the prices at the Kirkwood Winery Country Store. 

    As I mentioned earlier, I got two different wines to try. I got a small bottle of Cherry and a small bottle of Elderberry. They were 8 or 9 dollars per bottle, and you get about two glasses per bottle. 

    These two wines were quite sweet compared to your standard reds and whites, and I am far from being any kind of connoisseur, but I would use them for a dessert type of beverage. The Cherry was actually quite good. It tasted exactly like liquid cherries. It didn't have the artificial taste of Maraschino cherries, but a freshly picked from the tree type of taste. I really liked it. 

     The Elderberry was not as enjoyable for me. It was sweet enough to be syrup, and I've never tasted actual elderberries, so there's a possibility I just don't like that flavor. That being said, I definitely want to try out some more of these wines, particularly Strawberry and Dandelion. Thanks for reading! 

Link for Kirkwood Winery website:

https://www.kirkwood-wine.com/

**I am not affiliated with Kirkwood Winery. This is just a review of the two wines I bought. 

Have you ever tried any products from an Appalachian vineyard? Do you have a favorite specialty wine?  Do you make your own wine? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@ gmail.com or on Facebook, MountBlood WV. 

    

    

Makeshift Appalachia: DIY Pepperoni Rolls

Hello Appalachia!

    This month is flying by, and I have 3 more days to get you a few more blogs. Yikes. Anyway, let's talk about my favorite thing, food. The Appalachian Mountains served to isolate groups of people from each other for a long time, and that is the main reason our unique culture was born. The mountain dwellers grew up in a place all their own with very little outside influence before the days of internet, TV, and even radios. Our ancestors created a world and culture all their own, and just like with any culture, food is a major component. Some readers may ask themselves, what exactly is considered Appalachian food? I would say ramps, venison, beans and cornbread, and my favorite, pepperoni rolls. Apparently they're hard to find outside of West Virginia. The rest of the world is missing out on the Holy Grail of snack foods, and since my readers now span all four corners of the earth, I decided to let them in on the secret. I hesitate to call this recipe my own, since I'm sure other people have made them this way, but I got the idea to do this just by looking at what I had in my pantry.

Let's get cooking. (The list of ingredients and recipe will be posted at the bottom of the page).

I started by spraying some muffin tins with cooking spray. I used frozen yeast rolls, shredded cheese, and sliced pepperoni.

I put two rolls in each cup of the muffin tin, covered them in plastic cling wrap, and allowed them to rise for 2-3 hours. Depending on the temperature, they may rise faster or slower, so check them a few times. 

They should look like buttcheeks when they're ready. 

Next, you just spread the rolls and stuff some cheese and pepperoni into the opening. You can also add other fillings like mushrooms, black olives, or banana peppers. Today I did half pepperoni and cheese, and half with banana peppers. Close the "pocket" in the two rolls by pinching the dough together. Bake them at 375 F for 20 minutes. 

The final step is optional, but I don't think these pepperoni rolls are complete without honey butter. I smear it all over them when they're piping hot out of the oven. 

The final step is to try to resist eating ten of them at once. I hope you try this and like the results! 

Ingredients:

Frozen yeast dinner rolls

Sliced pepperoni

Shredded cheese (any kind)

Banana peppers (optional)

Honey butter (optional)

Recipe:

1. Pre-heat the oven to 375 F.

2. Put two of the frozen rolls into each cup of a greased muffin tin, cover with cling wrap, and let them rise for 2-3 hours. 

3. Stuff the rolls with cheese, pepperoni, and any other fillings you choose. 

4. Pinch the rolls closed. 

5. Bake for 20 minutes. 

6. Glaze with honey butter (optional). 

7. Enjoy! 

Do you have an Appalachian recipe you'd like to share? Do you have a favorite cultural dish? What's your favorite food? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com or on Facebook, MountainBlood WV. Thanks for reading! 

June's Featured Appalachian!

Hello friends!

    We're halfway through June and I still haven't given you a featured Appalachian. To be honest, they are getting harder to come by with each passing month, so if you're reading this and know someone you would like featured, please don't ever hesitate to contact me. I need participation from the MountainBlood community to keep this segment going. Help a sister out.

    With that rant being over, let's get to the good stuff. Our featured Appalachian this month is my paternal great-grandfather, William Hubert Griffith. To those who knew him, he was just Hubert. He was born to Clarence and Melinda Griffith in 1896 in Kanawha County, WV. His father was a coal miner, and his mother died of Bright's disease in her early twenties. His father remarried a woman named Edith, and Hubert had 8 siblings overall.

Hubert's father and stepmother, Clarence and Edith Griffith, approximately 1900. 

    Hubert completed elementary school, and he started working in the coal mines when he was 13. I believe he worked with the horses and mules that pulled the wagons. A few years later, he fought in World War I, where he spent time in France. When he was 25, he married 15-year-old Christie Johnston. They started their family in Clay County, West Virginia. They had several children: Edith, Alice (my maternal grandmother), Freda, Ercle, Clarence (deceased), Ralph (deceased), Tommy (deceased), Bert (deceased), Charles (deceased), Wesley (deceased), Donna (deceased), Harold (deceased), Okey, Doris (died in childhood from pneumonia after being burnt in a fire), Evalee (died in childhood from an intestinal disease), and there were also twin girls who were stillborn after Christie suffered a fall. I don't dare try to count up their grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, but my grandma tells me the number is in the hundreds.

Hubert and Christie with some of their children. 

     Aside from working in the mines, Hubert also ran moonshine with his brother Ralph. Ralph would make it, and Hubert would take it to Kanawha County to distribute it. Legend has it that a revenuer caught Ralph and was shot dead for his trouble. Aside from moonshine and coal mines, Hubert also called the local barn dances.

Hubert in his mining clothes, smoking a pipe. 

     Hubert died in 1981 of black lung complications. He has hundreds of descendants scattered all over the globe. He lived through hard labor, WWI, The Great Depression, Prohibition, and many other historically significant events. He has quite a legacy, and I am pleased to share it with you. Thanks for reading. 

Do you have a relative or friend that fought in a war? Ran moonshine? Grew their own food? Came to the mountains from Ireland to find work?  I am always on the lookout for the next Featured Appalachian, and if you would like to nominate someone, I can pretty much guarantee they will be featured. Please don't hesitate to get in touch, and we can share the story of your parents/grandparents/relatives/friends. You can contact me at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com or on Facebook under the name MountainBlood WV. Thank you! 

Black Snake....*Groan*

Hello Appalachia!

    I promised to have one more post for the month of May, so here it is. I'm sure you've guessed the subject matter of this blog from the title, and maybe you even got my terrible reference to the film"Black Snake Moan," which incidentally does not star a single snake. I've always been kind of weird, and snakes have intrigued me since my dad brought home a garter snake in a jar when I was probably around 4. If I can get in touch with some people, this definitely won't be my only snake blog. For now, however, I'm going to share with you the story of the black snake in my parents' backyard.

    My suitor and I had just arrived in Craigsville for a weekend visit with my family. My grandfather lives just up the lane, so we decided to pay him a visit. We hadn't been there very long, and I got a call from my sister. Apparently, my mother, who is terrified of snakes, spotted one slithering around our huge backyard, and freaked out. Given my way, I would have let the thing stay there. In my experience, mountain folk either love snakes or fervently detest them. I am the former, my mother the latter. So instead of having a full time pest control specialist living in our woodshed, she wanted it GONE.

    We went back to my house, and before we even got to the driveway, we saw my sister in the backyard with a curtain rod, and we knew exactly what she was doing. Now is a good time to mention that she was 4 or 5 months pregnant at the time. If a pregnant woman woman waddling around playing Crocodile Hunter with a curtain rod and black snake isn't a true vision of Appalachia, I don't know what it is.

    I sent my boyfriend into the house to get a pillowcase, and I went to assist my sister. By the time he returned, the snake had already slithered under the fence. Our yard is about an acre, and the gate is in the front, so our options were to try to run through the gate and around the yard, or to climb over the fence. As I mentioned, my sister was heavy with child and incapable of jumping the fence, and aside from my ever inappropriate footwear, I'm not very athletic. That left my boyfriend, who dabbles in sports and blessedly has a the muscular fanny of David Beckham. I'm getting off topic.

     So he jumps the fence after much badgering from my sister and myself. He hails from South Charleston, WV, and while I wouldn't call it urban, it's definitely not rural. This was his first encounter in snake catching. The only two people with any snake catching experience/gumption (my sister and myself) were trapped on the opposite side of the fence. Eventually the commotion drew the attention of the neighbors. This man and his two little girls came to see what was up, and we told him we wanted to catch this snake and take it to my grandfather's woodworking shop (a blatant lie, but he was the type of person that would rather kill a snake than go through the trouble of relocating it). So the Thomas sisters are on one side of the fence, mirrored on the other side of the fence by another pair of sisters, and we have these two men and a black snake in between. We stood with the pillowcase at the ready. The older neighbor gentleman used a plank of wood to trap the snake behind the head, which is the proper snake catching technique, and then it was up to my city boy-boyfriend to grab him and put him the pillowcase. He reluctantly grabbed it by the tail and cried "I got it!" To which everyone responded, little girls included, "NO YOU DON'T!" He may try to catch snakes by the tail, but I love him anyway. He eventually grabbed it properly and stuffed it in our cloth sack.

    Now that we had the snake, all we had to do was take it to the woods behind my grandpa's house. My boyfriend refused to let the snake in his car, even though it was secured in a pillowcase. So it was up to me to carry this angry snake in a pillowcase about a quarter of a mile, in my dressy shoes. The snake was pretty calm, but he was pretty heavy. He was about 4 feet long and all muscle. I arrived in the forest, huffing and puffing, and set the pillowcase down in the leaves and coaxed him out. He slithered off into the woods, hopefully to live happy ever after.

"I've been snake-napped!" 

    We initially wanted to call my cousin Jayce, who is an elementary-school-level snake professional. In my neck of the woods, little boys have some sort of creepy crawly in their pockets at all times, and Jayce knows how to identify them, catch them, speak to them, etc. I was babysitting once, and Jayce tells me to come out on the porch and look at his little plastic toolbox. He was digging around in it, and he when stood up, he was holding 4 live snakes at once. They were all harmless, like the snakes around here tend to be, but I was quite taken aback. I was expecting a plastic hammer, not a garter snake.

*Specifically points out the presence of adult supervision* 

     Children in my area are taught from a young age how to identify harmless snakes from dangerous ones, and I explicitly do not condone small children grabbing up snakes without the supervision of someone who knows what the heck they're talking about. However, I caught snakes as a child, and kept them in a box or jar before letting them go that evening. It's just something kids do in my hometown. Like I said, I think snakes are wonderful. I would rather have one black snake than a 100 rats any day. Thanks for reading. 

*I do not recommend bothering snakes at all. I certainly do not recommend allowing children to handle them unsupervised, and I encourage you to educate yourself and young loved ones about identifying common garden snakes from the few potentially harmful ones. A good rule for all of nature is "look but don't touch." 

Do you have any snake stories? I'd love to hear about it at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com or on Facebook, MountainBlood WV. As always, I love feedback and suggestions. 

Makeshift Appalachian: Repair/Revamp/Recycle Old Ripped Jeans.

Hello Appalachia!

     I went shopping today and got some much needed summer clothes. It's been in the 80s all week! I've been bagging up some old clothes to take them to Goodwill, and I came across a few pairs of jeans that were ripped, but hard to part with. I've got a lot of thighs going on, and that's where the wear-and-tear on my jeans tends to happen most, and being a senior in college, I'm flat broke on my best day. I decided to remedy these holes and give these jeans a new look. I dug up some old fabric and a glue gun, and I made a super unique and adorable patch. If you want to touch up an old pair of your jeans (or maybe some new holey jeans that show more skin than you'd like) without sewing or spending a lot of money, please read on.

You will need:

• Ripped jeans, inside out
• Fabric to cover the hole(s)
• Scissors
• Hot glue gun
• Hot iron

The leftover Halloween plate is optional. 

     Step 1: Turn those jeans inside out and lay them out flat. Iron the area with the hole until there are no wrinkles near the hole.

     Step 2: Cut out a square of fabric big enough to cover the hole. I'm an avid quilter, so I used the leftover backing from making my niece's baby blanket. You can use regular craft store fabric, or even some pieces cut off some old non-salvageable jeans . I left an extra half-inch on all four sides, because you don't want the hot glue too close to the hole or you'll glue your jeans closed. 

     Step 3: Iron the patch, PATTERN SIDE DOWN, and make sure it is also free of any and all wrinkles.

     Step 4: Add a thin line of hot glue (the kind specifically designed to withstand heat) to all four sides. I repeat, don't get too close to the hole to avoid gluing your jeans shut. 

     Step 5: Go over the glued patch with a hot iron just to really spread that glue out and work it into both fabrics so they will dry together, nice and tight. 

     Step 6: Leave the pants flat, and let them cool. Turn them right-side-out, and check out the unique touch on your old ripped jeans! 

     And there you have it! A no-sew patch and a cute little peak of fabric instead of my ghostly white skin! Thanks to my dad for the idea, and thanks to you for reading! 

*Is there an Appalachian DIY project you think I should try? Do you have any projects of your own that you would like to share? I'd love to hear about it on Facebook (MountainBlood WV) or my email (mountainbloodwv@gmail.com).