I sat attentively listening to this young excited woman sitting with me and tried not to shame myself nor her as she amused me with the details of her first solo adventure here. I thought at some point that I would likely break from holding in my laughter because it begged for escape. But, instead, I kept rapt focus while nodding my head with every exclamation point she delivered. I knew that she loved these blue mountains with its hollows & meadows for she was born with its love.
Six generations of her people had settled & farmed this very area stretching back to the late 1700s and those, whom she had met before their passing, had shared their joy & stories with her. She loved her people including me and leaned into every conversation she heard amongst us, often breaking into them to ply us with so many questions that we sometimes lost our own thoughts. So, though several decades separated our births, I understood and smiled as she used one drawn-out sentence after another taking a breath only when it became absolutely necessary. I allowed my arthritic hands to continue to crochet the big project in my lap. She knew & trusted that I could both listen and fairly keep up with her rambling while keeping my hands busy. Truth be told, I truly loved just to hear her voice more than the subject of her recounting. Real company is always far better for us lonely elders than television programming or phone calls, even if our visitors are long removed from those who were raised here.
She had insisted, on her occasional visits, that we should get in the car and ‘run these ridges until we get lost.’ Law! Law, I thought! “Until we get lost!” And, I would just shake my head in bewilderment of how she came to such thoughts. But on this occasion, she came equipped with a clip board, notes, a camera and coordinates … yes, coordinates … for the location that she wanted to explore on her own.
“Well,” I said, laughing. “Just leave some bread crumbs along the way so that you can find yourself back to me. And be sure. Be very sure to ask permission before exploring anyone’s private property.” She was gone all afternoon and returned safely, flushed and ready to discharge a report of all that she had discovered. My quiet afternoon exploded into rapid descriptions after she plopped down on the floor in front of me.
“No problem!” she first assured me. She had found the exact location at the end of a graveled road with a very old barn sitting right on the edge of it beside an equally old home built of shingles. It couldn’t have been more than eight hundred square feet total, she exclaimed! Various breeds of chickens scattered as she approached the front door, but an old fat gray cat was not moved nor impressed. The aged gentleman who answered my knock had on well-worn overalls & was obviously surprised by her request to hike down to the home place. But, he kindly agreed after informing her that only the rock chimney remained of it. His lone instruction was to close the cattle fences after passing through them.
What he didn’t tell me, my visitor exclaimed flailing both arms, was that he owned a bull bigger than any creature she’d ever seen outside of a zoo. “I’m serious!” she said as she caught sight of my amusement!
“And he was not five yards from me as I jiggled and tugged on the old rickety gate trying to get it opened & beyond his pen.” But, the gate stubbornly resisted and in her frustration & determination, she finally just climbed up & over it to drop down on the other side. “The brute never took his eyes off of me as he watched me heft over, but I was especially appreciative that he didn’t find me offensive or snort at me!”
She was finally on her way up through the pasture and tobacco field to the tree line some fifty yards away. A deer was startled out of its rest and amazed her by jumping from the low side of the property straight up and over the fencing as though it was daily routine. She disappeared into the trees with a final flip of her white tail. The joy of seeing it left her standing in the middle of the field speechless and in complete awe, and she found it worthy of quick notations before continuing up the hill. But, after she arrived at the top, she discovered multiple skeletons of cattle. Well, actually, just their heads. “Why were there just heads?” she asked me. It was really creepy & curious but she did pick one up to study it and take several notes and pictures. As she continued describing kicking a few other interesting specimens around, I wondered if the poor elderly farmer knew that she had digressed from the cattle path to choose, instead, a round-about route to the old cabin site.
But, apparently, the best and most hilarious part was yet to be revealed as she took a deep breath. “I could see the chimney from this higher vantage point,” she said, “and could tell that it was lower in the valley and at the base of a mountain.” So, she started down towards that last gate only to see in horror that a whole bunch of large cattle were collectively & purposefully walking towards her.
“Oh no!” my visitor groaned. “Even if I ran, I couldn’t possible reach the gate before they overcame me. So I began waving my clipboard at them and called out with a stern “Shoo! Shoo!” But they were not the least bit discouraged.” Instead, they continued to come straight on. Good grief, she thought, looking about for a possible rescue route. Then, there it was! A rusty but adequate barbed wire fence between the pastures barely visible! Saved! She walked in a hurried yet tempered pace so as not to portray fear to the creatures behind. When she arrived, she threw her clipboard & camera over to the other side and grabbed the top of the fence. But, her heart sank as that old fence bent towards her and she found herself looking up at the sky and head brushing the grasses behind! She closed her eyes for fear of seeing the hairy muzzles of those cows above her as she ended up on the ground.
“But,” this poor city girl exclaimed, “just when I thought that I was going to be attacked, that fence sprung back up with me riding it and bent over into the opposite side. I let loose of it expecting success except that my jeans got caught on those barbs. So, though I was hopping around on one free leg, I was also quickly trying to disengage the other imprisoned one on the wire while at an impossible angle.”
Readers, I must admit that I stopped crocheting and starting laughing so hard that I thought that I might never stop! “Why, child,” I declared, “those cattle likely just thought that you had brought the afternoon feed to them!” My guest paused a long few moments to consider this possibility but didn’t seem at all convinced. I wondered how she might have reacted to seeing a turkey or an eagle or even the occasional wild pig that also made this area home, and thanked her good Lord that she did not have to find out. Walking these Appalachian Mountains to observe & experience the old farms and wild life hopefully will give her a greater appreciation of her history and memories to last a life time.
We talked of the flat rock that she had plucked from the chimney and hauled backed to her car passing once again over the fences barring her way. And we talked of the king-sized bed spread that I was in the midst of creating for her before I suggested that we wash up. A big pot of steaming rich potato soup was waiting for us as the sun began to dip behind the mountain.