It had been a long night followed by a demanding morning but the sequence was really no different from my usual routine. The prior evening kept both my husband & me busy beyond sundown with the day’s last chores of caring for our stock and securing the barn. I took note of the sounds of the frogs, the awkward flight of the turkeys to their roosts and a far off whippoorwill, but I did not pause in my awareness. My mind was filled with things yet to accomplish. Later, after our babies were snug under their quilts, William put more wood on the fire and I took up my mending close by. It was good to sit for a while unencumbered by the physical demands of our farm and to simply listen to the rhythmic sound of our rockers on the hearth. But even we adults grew drowsy from the day, particularly me heavy with another little blessing due soon, so we prepared for bed. Morning would come soon enough.
I woke with the sun not yet fully shining upon the valley & multiple ridges in front of our cabin, but I quickly became invigorated by the anticipation of the day before us. Together, William & I loaded more wood into our stove and waited for it to warm the cabin as well as to heat up enough for coffee and to cook our breakfast. The smell of thick slices of country ham and fresh biscuits were welcomed and our children began to stir with the same enthusiasm as we did. They quickly began their chores of collecting eggs, bringing in water and replenishing the fire wood. By the time we were all done, the table was set with Aunt Almedia’s cherry jam and apple butter along with the fried ham, buttermilk biscuits, cold milk from the spring house and a skillet full of softly scrambled eggs.
Afterwards, I made up pails of left over biscuits punched with holes & filled with the jam & apple butter for the children’s school lunches. They gathered their texts and left together for the long walk towards school. I smiled with pride that our children were learning and imagining the friends who would join them along the way. Our remaining babies played outside while I hung clothes & tended the gardens. It was then that I was stretching out my back from all of the choring and truly noticed the sight before me! As I gazed at it, I remembered that the Cherokee called this area ‘Shaconage,’ land of the blue mist, and thought it appropriate for these ancient majestic mountains. From the crest where our cabin was built, I marveled at the multiple layers of purple & blue ridges, the bright sun behind them and the rich meadows before them. I picked up the youngest to show her and wondered if my children, their children & even my great grandchildren would love and admire them as I do today. Thank you, God, for the beauty of your creation and my home & family!