Treats All Around

I'm just trying this out! Jennie has been adding some movies to her blog, and I want to see if I can upload video from my camera. If so, I'll try to take some that are a little more interesting than just the dogs begging for treats. But they do love their snacks!

Just for Jennie - Signs of Spring

Jennie viewed the blog and commented on how cold it looks in all the pictures. But looks are deceiving. Signs of spring are everywhere, Jen, and here are a few photos just for you! This is the big tree in our side yard. We noticed it beginning to bud about a week ago. Soon it will be green and leafy.

Lots of daffodils surround the Thomas Whitt Woolsey Williams and Sally Bucknor house on Manville Road. They are ancestors of ours.

This forsythia is blooming in our yard on a little bush beside the stone grill. It's been blooming all week.

I wasn't observant enough last year to notice just what kind of tree this is - I think it might be apple. It's alongside Odas Qualls' driveway just across from our house. See the honeybee? If the bees are out, it really must be spring.

The periwinkle is in bloom, too, and this is on Odas' bank. We can see this carpet of blue from our porch.

The picture below I took because of the contrast between the vibrant green and grey stone. I'm not sure what this is either....I guess I need to buy a good gardening book! Anyway, this is right off of our front porch. These last two pictures were taken at the same place as the Williams house above. The daffodils have been blooming for several weeks now, but this is the first I've stopped to take pictures. The barn below is one of the prettiest we've seen. It belongs to Rayford Pendleton, another cousin, and is just opposite the Williams house.

It was in the high 50's today and we barely needed jackets. Spring has really arrived here in Virginia. Don't worry, Jennie, it's on the way to Pennsylvania, too.

Kicky Feet

Hope this works! My favorite part is the laugh at the end.

What's the Fun of Blogging if You Can't Show Off the Grandkids??

Our youngest granddaughter turned six months old on March 19 and Jen is really good about taking pictures on all these important dates. I stole these photos from Jen's blog, because, hey, what's the fun of blogging if you can't show off the grandkids! I am going to have to seriously start searching for Native American ancestors. Jen swears she didn't fix Ella's hair into this mohawk. Yep, it just goes that way naturally. Boy, is she going to hate these pictures when she's a teenager!

Uh-oh, Mommy is just taking pictures of Ella and not Chloe.....but, but Chloe's been the star of the show for almost two years! Aren't you going to take my picture, Mommy??!!

Well, okay, if you smile pretty.

This is classic. Chloe pokes Ella.

Ella pokes back.

Can't you picture this in two or three years? The Anderson family will be piled in their minivan heading down Route 81 toward MaMaw and PaPaw's house. Ella says, "She poked me!" Chloe says (louder) "She hit me!" Ella says (louder still) "She poked me again," pokes Chloe, and screams. Chloe smacks Ella and yells, "Be quiet."

Jen turns up the radio. Matt pulls off at the next exit and turns around.

NO, wait, no -- it'll never happen that way! I swear!

Could this dear little girl ever be mean to her sister? No, take it from me. The little sisters are always good.

Jen, who was the big sister, is right now saying, "Hey!" But as all little sisters know, I only speak the truth.

Keep laughing, Jen!

Moving Day on the Mountain

This was interesting. On one of the lovely warm days we had, Tom and I were out on the porch, and heard a strange squealing sound. Our first thought was that a train down by the Clinch River was in serious trouble. But we kept hearing this strange noise and it seemed to be coming closer.

Finally, Tom jumped up, and said, "It's a trailer. They're bringing a trailer down Buttercup!" He was referring to Buttercup Lane which is just down the road a bit, and goes up the mountain to the right. Isn't that a sweet name - Buttercup? We're right across from Marigold.....but I digress. Tom grabbed the camera and walked up to catch the action. And ever so slowly a little dozer eased this mobile home down from the very top of Buttercup Lane.

Tom said the curtains were still hanging, and he could see furniture inside. And so a whole home was just hauled away in a matter of minutes.

We're constantly amazed at some of the places where we see mobile homes. How in the world do they get them up these mountainsides? How do they level them before they roll over? The margin for error seems incredibly small.

It was pretty exciting to see this one come down the mountain - the most excitement we've had up here in awhile. I guess the last exciting thing was when the new neighbors moved in - us!

And now some other neighbors are gone, though I can't imagine it's to a better place. The truth is, I can't imagine a better place than this!

Walking to Grandma's

Tom and I have been taking some nice walks on Sunday afternoons. A few weeks ago we started walking up Manville Road and ended up walking all the way to Grandma's house. Now the first 53 1/2 years of my life were spent in Pennsylvania, about 450 miles away from my grandmother, and all the aunts, uncles and cousins on my mother's side. So, to be able to walk from our house to Grandma's house is mind-boggling.

And it's also a very pleasant and pretty walk on a warm winter day. This barn is one of the first scenic views, with the mountains in the background. It's really starting to warm up now that spring is here, and soon these trees will be covered in green. This pretty and unusual house is still called the Musick house. It's important to me as a landmark - when we saw the Musick house, we knew we had really, really arrived! Grandma's house is less than a mile away now!

We make a left turn onto Adams Cemetery Road, a dirt road, and soon come to the cemetery itself.

It just so happened that the week we made this walk, I had been trying to find a photo of Burl Lane, the son of Abe Lane and his second wife, Florence Grizzle. We've collected photos of all of Grandma Peters' siblings except Burl. I was collecting info on his family and descendants to try to find a contact, who might have a picture of him.

I didn't know that his wife, Argie Hammonds, was buried in this cemetery, along with their son who died young, and her parents. I shouldn't have been shocked to find them here, as coincidences like this happen all the time. Still, it's a strange feeling, as if they are reaching to me, just as I am reaching out to them.

This barn is just down the hill behind the cemetery. Supposedly there is an old house down in this hollow that was built by some Pendleton folks. Looks like another walk is in order....

This little shed has lots of history behind it. It was once a house, lived in by my uncle, Abe Peters, and his family while they were building their new house here on Copper Ridge. Cousin Herman Peters told us that this house was rolled backward on logs to make way for the new house. At some point, it was moved again, here next to the road.

It's hard to believe that a family lived in this small dwelling, but in fact it must have been common. Kay and I have been researching a small house that once stood down in the hollow below Grandma's house. I believe my mother, Zella Mae Peters, was born there, and Uncle Carl and Aunt Frankie lived there when they started their married life. The Peters family likely lived in the house again when they moved back to Scott County from Kingsport in the 1930's. There would have been at least seven in the household then, Noble and Maggie, and five of their children. Can you imagine living in a house this size with five children?

Uncle Abe's little house is now home to these friendly basset hounds. At first that struck me as sad, but now I'm glad for it. Uncle Abe had a good job at the Kingsport Press and was able to build his family a nice home, with a sturdy barn beside it for the horses he loved. The little house was outgrown and could be used for other things, and so it's been taken care of over the years, and we can still stand at the front door and look in, and imagine the family who once lived here.

Uncle Abe's barn is still in good shape. Uncle Bill built one like it, just down the road.

And there are still horses up here on the ridge. I know Uncle Abe would be pleased about that, as horses were a passion he shared with his younger brother Glen.

And here is Grandma's little house, looking toward Clinch Mountain, as it's done since Uncle Bill built it in the 1930's.

The folks who bought it from Uncle Bill have lived here ever since, so this house has only had two owners. It is a happy home, surrounded by flowers, visited by grandchildren, and much loved.

And any time I want, I can walk over and say hello. It's a wonderful feeling to be able to walk to Grandma's.

Still Searching the Hollow

Tom and I have taken several long hikes through Peters Hollow in search of the Peters-McDavid Cemetery, where Francisco Peters and his wife, Margaret Lane, are buried. We haven't found it yet. We've come to the conclusion that we won't find it until we have discovered everything else we're supposed to discover in the hollow. Every time we go there, we find something new....well, actually old, but you know what I mean.

This time we took the low road instead of the high road, and I know that won't mean anything at all to most of you. Suffice to say, instead of heading straight up toward Uncle John Peters' old house at the top, we struck off to our left and headed down toward Copper Creek. We got there eventually, but there was lots to see along the way. The first thing we came across was this enormous barn. Most of the barns we've found are in surprisingly good shape considering their age and lack of maintenance. This one was sided in tin, which was unusual, but has certainly helped to preserve it.

The folks here learned early on, I guess, to work with the land. There is very little flat land and most of the houses and barns are built on slopes. If you enter a barn on the uphill side, it's one story, while the other end of the barn may very well be two stories. The huge rocks embedded in the earth form part of the foundation, and smaller stones are set in for additional support. These rock foundations may also be part of the reason these old barns still stand. This barn in Peters Hollow had some treasures in it, among them this old stove. The legs have been removed, but most of the pieces are still there, and I am trying to figure out how to haul it out. I can just see it blackleaded, with a red geranium in an old pot sitting on it. Can't you?

This sled was in pretty good shape. Barbara and I were told once by Glen Gilliam that his mother's coffin was hauled down to Copper Creek, which was frozen over, and pulled on a sled like this to take it to the church. It was brought back the same way. Might it have been this very sled? Glen Gilliam helped to build this barn, so it's just possible.

Here's Tom standing in the downhill portion of this barn to give you an idea of it's size. It was huge. Lots of tobacco sticks were still stacked inside, waiting for a crop that won't come.

This wagon was not in as good shape as the sled, but it was interesting to see. Though the wheels were gone, Tom was fascinated by the brakes - just blocks of wood activated by the handle you can see on the left.

I'm always fascinated by these old chimneys, still standing where houses are long gone. This one we believe was once the hearth of the Lewis Gilliam home. He was a half brother to Daniel Gilliam who married Lousia Peters, the sister of William Patton Peters, my great-grandfather. Two of Lewis' children married siblings of Polly Pendleton, my great-grandmother, so the folks who once sat by this fireplace are related to me several ways.

This picture shows the marks where the stone was worked before being put into place. Imagine the hours of work this took.

This chimney has a hearth on both sides, so it would have been a central fireplace with rooms on both sides of it. We did find some of the foundation stones where the house or perhaps a porch once stood.

We made this walk in early March. In July you'd never even see this barn or chimney or the little house below, because they would all be covered in kudzu. All of these vines will soon be sprouting the huge, smothering leaves of the kudzu. We're going to have to go back, at least part way, just to see what this place looks like. Even in winter, it's like something from another world. And just a little bit scary.

I talked to Roy Peters and Glen Gilliam about this small three-room house. They both called it the Bayard Pendleton house. I pulled some census records, and I believe it goes back at least one generation further. Cora Gilliam, the daughter of Daniel and Lousia, married James Monroe Pendleton, brother of Polly, and I think they might have been living here in 1920 with Bayard and four other children.

The fireplace is still in pretty good shape, though a few bricks have fallen. A closet is to the left, and a small cupboard was to the right. For some reason, I have it in my mind that they kept their Bible there, near to Father's chair, where he would sit and read to them in the evening.

These old homes are always near a spring so water for the family's use didn't have to be hauled too far. Though on a frigid February day, I'm sure it felt far enough for the child whose job it was.

When Tom and I made this walk, we'd had lots of rain, and the spring joined a branch coming down the mountain and made a series of little waterfalls. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and the only people to see it, we two.

The closer we got to the creek, the steeper the incline, and the more dramatic the waterfalls became.

On this day, we walked in at the gooseneck, and came out on the south side of Copper Creek not far from the swinging bridge. We had a nice long walk along the creek to get back to the new bridge, and I was worn out. Tom, my angel, hiked back to the Jeep, while I sat and took pictures at the dam. The water was flowing lovely and swift, and not nearly as cold as it looks in this picture.

I sat and thought about the hard life our ancestors endured to live in this beautiful place. I'm so grateful they persevered, so that we may be here now.

The Little Boy's First Haircut

I've always loved the long hair on Yorkies, and wondered how in the world those people at the dog shows could keep them looking so beautiful.

Now that we have a Yorkie of our own, I have to wonder even more.

We recently gave up trying to keep Chotti's long hair looking nice, and gave him a haircut. He has curly hair, and it actually looks really cute being short. He also looks like a puppy again, though he turned two this month. It may be my imagination, but he seems to run faster and more easily. I know for sure, that he doesn't drag in as many leaves. I'm going to have to make him a coat for next winter, but he's going to love this haircut in the summer.

Chotti and Minnie both love to lay in the sunshine, and it streams in our big front window all morning. It's really nice on a cold winter day, when the sun is shining.

Pappy has lately been preferring the sofa, which is okay, as he is usually the only one sitting on it. Tom and I spend all our time in the Lazyboys....

Our little sun worshippers....

And a nice picture of our greying Minnie, who will be seven years old next month.

All three are doing well and liking their new home on Manville Road. They like the big porch where they can avoid the rain, and they like their fenced yard. There are lots of things to bark at, too, which really makes them happy. We have chickens, cows, other dogs, and nice neighbors, all of which are shrilly barked at whenever they come too close.

I shudder to think of what the chickens, cows, dogs, and neighbors think of all this barking.....especially the neighbors. But the dogs are having the time of their lives.