Faith, Folklore, and Friends

They say that our olfactory sense is the last to go; that up 'til the end when our memories of names and faces and places are gone, we can remember certain smells.  I can instantly remember the smell of burning leaves, the richness of a plowed field after a summer rain, and potatoes frying in a skillet.  I can remember the smell of mimeograph machine ink from fifty years ago, and the Vick's salve that Mama rubbed on our throats.  I remember waking up to the smell of coffee and bacon cooking every morning of my childhood.  Nothing smelled as good as honeysuckle. We knew it was spring then, when we played outside by the porch light and our bare feet got slick with dew, and it was like being in a perfume factory with the wild honeysuckle blooming along fence rows and road sides.  Later, when we were dating, we rode those country roads with the car windows down, listening to music with the smell of honeysuckle intensifying the young love being born. ...

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain  is  over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth;  the  time of the singing of birds is  come,  and  the voice of the turtle is heard in  our  land;   The fig tree putteth forth her  green  figs, and the vines with the tender  grape give a good smell. Arise, my  love,  my fair one, and come away. ~Song of Solomon 2:11-13

Twice a year, the earth moves into a position where the sun's vertical rays are striking the equator.  On those days, there is equal daylight and dark all over the planet. March 20 is called the vernal equinox, from the Latin equi, meaning equal. We call it the first day of spring. And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt  everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast rose from the  dreams of its wintry rest.                                                            —Percy Bysshe Shelley

~Florence Main Street photo                           I do not like the cold North breeze or temps low enough to freeze the pipes, the plants, and the parts of motor cars that make them start. I do not like the freezing rain that makes the roads a major pain to try to get to work and school. I do not like it, and I’m no fool. I do not like the mushy snow. It doesn’t set my heart aglow. Instead, it just makes me mean as I pine for something green. I do not like the low, gray sky. Sometimes, it makes me want to cry when I think of all the blue skies gone and weeks of winter yet to come. I do like the summer, humid and hot; long lazy days and temps that do not fall below seventy, even at night! Hurry up, Summer! It’s nowhere in sight. ~ Wanda Stricklin Robertson

In Loving Memory Mary Lynn Stricklin Horton January 12, 1937-December 2, 1990 Let's just pretend, because it is your birthday, that the lump in your breast was a mosquito bite that disappeared in a few days and your life stayed normal, if normal can describe life. I will call you up and tell you to come by, the coffee is on and there is coconut cake. We'll talk about hair color and plants. You will be amazed at how the grandchildren have grown.   We will speculate about Rosie's new man and how high the price of groceries will rise because of the early freeze.   I will make you a copy of that quilt pattern you've been wanting. We will giggle at old stories: the time you broke your foot riding a bicycle, the leaves in the chicken stew. We will groan about our weight gain and I will say your boobs are as big as the moon.  We will refuse to talk abo...

Last Monday, two weeks since the Gatlinburg wildfires, Hub and I drove through there looking at the damage. The worst damage was in the mountains above the bypass from Gatlinburg to Pigeon Forge. My friend who works at  Apple Annie's  was there when it all happened.  She had been warned that evacuation was possible, so she went to the store across from the police department to fill her gas tank.  Fire was all around them, and people congregated at the store because no shelters had been opened then.  Hurricane force winds caused power lines to break and people lost electrical power and cell service at the same time.  In addition, emergency sirens were everywhere, adding to the panic.  Thankfully, there were no fatalities in her neighborhood, and the arts and crafts community on Glades Road was not damaged.  For my quilting friends, we stopped at Susan's Quilts and they are all fine. It will be a long, hard winter for the fol...

My parents took us to cemeteries regularly during my young years.  They taught us about our people and our past by reading the headstones, each one with a story. They taught us to never, never, walk on a grave, because it showed great disrespect for the bones beneath our feet.  Sometimes, in the old cemeteries, it is hard to tell exactly where the graves are, but I still try my best not to walk on one. Today marks 78 years since that morning when Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, was attacked by the Japanese. Hundreds of men died, and our country entered World War II. The ship  Arizona was among those that sank that day .  In 1962, the Arizona memorial was built directly over where the skeleton of the great ship rests on the shallow seafloor. It covers what remains of 1177 souls lost in a few minutes on that Sunday morning. When we were there in October of 2016, it was a somber place. It felt like I was walking on graves. Seventy-eight years l...