An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series If you spend enough time with Appalachian family history, you notice the spaces where names should be. Old Bibles with half-filled pages. Photos with faces nobody can place. Stories that trail off when someone asks a question that a generation never answered. The gaps feel small…
An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series A strip of fatback in a hot pan offers a familiar scent. The sizzle settles into a steady rhythm, and the kitchen takes on a soft haze that Appalachian cooks knew well. Their gardens offered plenty of food but not much flavor. Beans carried their own comfort but…
An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. I love driving the Blue Ridge Parkway. Early on an autumn morning there’s a mist in the air and sunlight sparkles off the freshly mowed hayfields where round bales wait in the dew. Visitors congregate at the overlooks. They take in the horizon, nod at the quiet,…
An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series Daybreak is quiet and subdued. A lingering chill hangs in the air, and the rustling of leaves hints at something unseen nearby. An Appalachian hog steps out from a stand of young poplar, nose to the ground, as comfortable in the woods as any wild creature. It pauses…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series Morning comes early because it has to. The stove takes time. In the quiet of Appalachian isolation, the path to the spring is slick with dew, and the cow bellows until the gate latch lifts. A wagon trip into town must wait for the creek to…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series In the gray stillness before dawn, Mae pulled her daughter’s coat tighter and brushed snow from the girl’s cap. The chill settled in deep this far up the valley, where wind rolled off the ridges and cut through every layer of wool. Along the tracks, families…
An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. From the pull-off near Rocky Knob, Rock Castle Gorge lies open below the Blue Ridge Parkway. Ridges step down into the valley where families once farmed and built their homes. Most visitors see only the view, not the community that once filled the hollow. When the Blue…
An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. The View That Cost Everything Drive the Blue Ridge Parkway on a quiet weekday morning, and it’s easy to believe it has always been this way: peaceful and polished. Each curve feels natural, as if the road simply followed the shape the mountains already offered. Beauty like…
An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. Mount Airy NC: A Town That Feels Like Mayberry The bronze statue outside the Andy Griffith Playhouse catches the last light of day. Sheriff Andy Taylor holds Opie’s hand, fishing poles slung over their shoulders, just as they did in the opening credits of The Andy Griffith…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series The drive between Mount Airy, North Carolina, and Hillsville, Virginia, takes about twenty minutes today. Route 52 winds up and over Fancy Gap Mountain, a two-lane road that climbs up to three thousand feet before landing in Carroll County. The pavement is smooth, the grades are…
An installment in our Folklore & Legends series A mist settles along a mountain road. The night is still until the sound of heavy paws keeps pace beside you. Step quicker, and the rhythm follows. Glance back, and a shadow slips into the trees. In the Appalachians, they call it the black dog legend; a…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series Across the Atlantic The ship pitched hard in the swells of the North Atlantic. Below deck, young Johann Dahle gripped the rough wood of his bunk and tried to steady his thoughts. He was twenty years old, a soldier-for-hire from Hesse, one of the small German…