An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. In the quiet town of Helvetia, West Virginia, the final days before Lent don’t pass unnoticed. They are celebrated with Helvetia Fasnacht, bringing a parade of masked revelers and the steady thumping of old-world music to the town’s streets and parks. Picture it: masked figures dancing through…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series Another Valentine’s Day looms ahead. Some young ladies will be expecting gifts; some young men will hustle at the last minute to grab flowers or candy or secure a coveted dinner reservation. Others, perhaps, will be carefully crafting the perfect message for an online dating profile…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series The wind tore through the brakeman’s jacket as he inched along the top of a freight car, his boots skidding slightly on the frosted steel. Below him, the Blue Ridge Mountains stretched out in waves, shrouded in a foggy mist. The train groaned and shuddered as…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series The breaker boys’ story is one of stark contrasts: the innocence of childhood stolen by the grit and grime of industrial labor. Imagine being eight years old, bent over a conveyor belt, fingers raw and aching from hours of picking slate out of coal. The air…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series Imagine a quilt hanging on a clothesline, fluttering gently in the breeze. To a casual observer, it’s just a piece of fabric, a practical household item airing out in the sun. But for some, it might have been a covert message—a guide to freedom for those…
An installment in our Folklore & Legends series Picture this: it’s Christmas morning, and you’re rushing to get the cinnamon rolls in the oven, clear the wrapping paper carnage, and maybe post a perfectly filtered photo of your tree on social media before the dog eats the ornament hooks. Imagine trying to do all that…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series I’m not a hillbilly, but I can sure sound like one when I want to. I grew up around Washington, DC, in a family of Appalachian Southerners. Their accent rolled off my tongue like gravy over biscuits. Over the years, I’ve worked hard to overcome my…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series In the heart of Appalachia, when winter settles deep into the valleys and the mountains stand quiet under a blanket of frost, a different kind of Christmas takes place. While most of the world celebrates on December 25, some Appalachian communities hold on to a much…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series During the Civil War, the lines between soldier and outlaw blurred in the mountains of Appalachia, where men like Champ Ferguson thrived. Ferguson wasn’t a typical Confederate soldier; he was a guerrilla fighter, leading a small band of men in bloody raids that left a trail…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series There’s little difference between the raging hormones of teen romance and the frantic mating rituals of beasts. Hearts race, tempers flare, and decisions are made in the heat of the moment. The rules of teen romance are firm: Stay away from my guy. Don’t mess with…
An installment in our Appalachian History and Culture series Before the days of welfare programs and safety nets, communities had to find ways to care for their most vulnerable. Appalachia was no different. Scattered throughout the hills and valleys of this rugged region, poorhouse farms were an essential part of the social fabric, though rarely…
An installment in our Blue Ridge Travel series. Driving up Groundhog Mountain from Mt. Airy, NC, to Meadows of Dan, VA, I pulled over on Squirrel Spur Road to pause and admire the view. Near the top of a close rise, I spotted a dark hole among the trees: a cave. Wild caves—that is, commercially…