Recollecting all the way back to the Civil War

Some things are remarkable like just today I remembered that my great grand mother’s youngest sister told me a story about their grandfather. The man we are talking about was born in 1831 and died in 1886. That makes him my great great grandfather. It’s nice to reflect every now and then cause good things come to mind and get the creative writing juices flowing.

My family is huge and you’ll never ever compile all the names in one set of encyclopedias. Many have tried and gotten off track for one reason or another. Much to my surprise and delight, I found two women who made the whole mess of things crystal clear. One of these women was a cousin on my mother’s side and the other was related to an aunt by marriage on my father’s side.

For the sake of you ever making sense out of this story, let’s focus on the cousin who turns out to be my great aunt once the conversation was finished. Well…..actually….she’s both. She said my momma and daddy were 3rd cousins. My great grandmothers were sisters. There was a bunch of kids in that family and Aunt/cousin Grace was the grandbaby of parents born in 1831.Here she is alive in the 1980’s.

If you’ve figured it out by now—-then we are talking of a Civil War generation giving direct account to a me and here it is at the time—the 1980’s. That’s so rare that I bet it’s only happened a handful of times. Aunt/cousin Grace was alive when a Civil War hero was living and she’s giving a one on one account to me in the 1980’s. It has taken me the better part of 20  years to figure out how just remarkable that such a thing happened.

Aunt Grace told me that this Civil War veteran was a 2nd Lt. with the NC Militia. He joined up in 1861. He did it to defend the Southern land on which his great great grandfather had fought to keep during the War of Independence. Aunt Grace was not referring to a specific piece of land but rather a right to stay where our family had settled since the 1750’s.

I always remembered that story but would eventually find out that I descended from at least 5 Revolutionary War veterans and at least one was fighting on the other side. Half my family came down with those settling the Moravian community of Bethania and Bethabara and the other were Protestants came and settled in Davidson County, NC. My family names are Miller, Krause, Sowers, Leonard, Staud, Delap, Livengood, Long, Bugher, Heinline, and a few others recognized in these parts.

The names mentioned above connect me to just about everyone in the county. Those are the names of my grandparents  from that original line that came in the 1750’s. They came to escape religious persecution. The came from England, Germany, Switzerland, Ireland, and they came on ships laden with goods to start them off on the new land.

Valentine Leonhardt/Leonard started a church called Pilgrim Reformed Church where many old German stones remain and carry those names on weathered markers. Philip Sowers was a friend of Valentine’s and they both knew Squire Boone—the father of Daniel Boone. I wished I could of lived every generation to hear all the stories. Oh I wish they were written down. Much is written about my family and fun to discover new things. You’ll never see the end of it–not in my lifetime and today’s internet is making more and more possible.

Then there is Melchior Krause which is the direct line of Mary Magdalene Krause who married Jacob Miller. Mary and Jacob moved to Indiana–and started a remarkable branch of our family who gave our nation many Methodist preachers and a whole line of doctors and lawyers. How many Dr. Miller’s do you know? See what I mean. Not to mention that Melchior remained a man of great influence in our neck of the woods.

And I haven’t even begun to tell you about the Perrymans. They were 4 brothers who came and started a lumber yard. I could go on and on but the most remarkble story of all my research is—-Aunt/Cousin Grace who helped me connect my mom to my dad—and then recalled a story from the Civil War.

I told you all this to say—–Harry Patch died earlier this month. He was the last living British veteran from WW1. His message was to solve our conflicts without war. He chose to tell of the horrors that war caused a man and a world. At one time, men were dying at the rate of 3,000 a day on Flander’s Field. I think that went on for 3 months. Harry Patch suffered tremendous emotional stress in his dreams and his daily thoughts to bring us the message of peace. He never wanted any man to ever have to suffer the fear and torture of war again. He remembered at great cost so you would not forget.

And so it was with the Civil War and Aunt Grace said that my great great grandfather heard that message from his great great grandfather of the Revolutionary War. And I recollected today that she told me that——could we not find a way to remember that war is not the answer? Can we not at least honor what these men have to tell us and find a way least we keep having to repeat the same message?

A Podcast on The Sunshine Lavender Farm

I added this podcast to my Charlotte History Examiner site. Thought I’d share it here too. You can use my search feature to read more about this farm or you can head over to

Sunshine Lavender Farm’s site and check them out for yourself.

Drink Up The Creek And Not Down

You might get really thirsty eyeing a stream so clear and inviting but make for darn sure no cows are upstream. I use to drink from this very spot after a late day of chasing lightening bugs. It was just about this hour and their faint glow could be seen under the thick tree canopy. Off in the distance was the Whip-Poor Whill calling the night to take hold.

Soon I’d be sleeping under the colorful quilts that come on the breezes of the billowy curtains.

You could spook yourself with a good imagination. It isn’t for sure what hides in the mystery of the tree canopy. Along about the time the sun hides behind our mountain, a new life emerges in the cool magical moment. Lightening bugs start sending out flickering signals that pronounce it’s time to call it a day. You can find them during the day as they aren’t too hard to spot but who wants to catch a bug without a glow?

Listen for the cattle lowing. It’s a pleasant enough sound as far as lowing goes. Have you ever lowed? Lightening bugs don’t low. They glow.

One thin strand of connected wire starts humming as folks feel the need to light the afternoon chores. Off in the hollar is the misty smoke that gives our southern Appalachians their name. It’s not the same heavy mist that rises in the morning. It’s a quiet kind of setting not found anywhere else on earth. I would long for this when our travels took us far away. I would long for the glimpse of the lightening bugs playing at the edge of the pasture.

It’s so quiet except for the cows lowing, the cicada’s singing, the cricket’s call, the Whip-Poor-Whil, the  babbling crick, and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the pebbles.

The connected wires run through the pasture and past the lowing cows and branch off to the mountain folk who have always lived there. Their grandparents lived there and every generation of lightening bugs from now till back when trees were more plentiful than cows on this bit of open peacefullness. No other time of day is this spot painted in the colors of a deer and a rabbit.

He’ll come out in the grasses and you won’t even know he’s there. He’s always crossed at that spot even when the road wasn’t so grand but yet held ruts from the wagons. The road has always been there except for when the folks didn’t live in the mountains. I don’t know when that was but something like this will call you back and keep the weeds off the path.

Here’s the burn can that hides at the edge of the meadow and threatens to catch the bugs on fire. They’ll be dipping and diving when the flames lick the moon.

Something horrible is hiding under there and I’m not ever not never going to find out. It gets more worse and fierce as the last light fades.

The white reflection of the house lingers the memories just a bit longer but soon it fades too as night time apple butter and simmering coffee calls the weary inside.

And such is how it went when I chased lightening bugs down by the creek at the edge of our big woods on top of the mountain where my Nana and Uncle Bim took me to make memories at The Mountain House.

Shedding Light on Tomorrow

Isn’t it just fabulous how the sun comes up and sheds light on color?

For us gardeners, that is the reason we plant another day. We plant no matter the disappointments of all the yesteryears. We plant new hope and life because the sun comes up and scatters dots of color across the canvas we call a garden.

Crappie Fishing at The Cove

The Crappie hide up under the rocks or in the tangles of the fallen trees. You don’t need a lot of sophisticated equipment to catch one. I spent many a long lazy day in the cove listening to the silence and paying attention to the ripples in the water. If you see a few bubbles then it’s probably a turtle. The turtles come up to sun on the rocks every now and then. 

When the water is real clear, you can see all the way to the bottom of the lake. Some days fish jump out of the water and right in your basket. Other days, you got to work for it. Crappie will eat anything. I’ve used hot dogs, bread, chicken, gum drops, gum, and of course worms. Make the bait stick to the hook and place the whole funny looking mess in the water. Work the bait up under the edge of a rock. It minutes you’ll catch a Crappie or a little throw back Brim. Brim tend to be in the more shallow areas and Crappie hang out in the deep pockets. 

Take some gloves so you won’t get stuck with the scales or the hook. Take some good snacks cause fishing makes you hungry. Leave the electronics at home cause fish don’t like noise. Make sure to wear a hat with something covering your neck. All that looking down at the water exposes the back of your neck and it will fry for sure. 

The pine trees smell so good and are reflecting off the water. The little critters scurry by surprised to see you sitting there. Birds are chirping and scavenging through the forest floor. Birds are always nervous and flitting about their business. A few caterpillars make the long journey across a short distance and you can use s stick to confuse them for awhile. Hours can be passed just making a caterpillar wonder about that stick. 

Along will come a line of ants if you dropped any of your snacks. They come one and then two and then a million. Little chunks of food will be carried on the backs of those ants who wondered why they never discovered this restaurant before now. They keep inviting friends until every last crumb is toted off. Something woke up an owl and it hoots off in the distance. At the same time a flurry of activity comes off the tops of the trees as a good stiff wind interrupts a few tranquil moments. It was a welcome breeze as it cooled the sweat of the afternoon sun. 

Go on home relaxed and satisfied that nature didn’t change course while you were away. It’s still reflecting off the water and getting on about business just like it will tomorrow iffen you are there or iffen you aren’t. 

From the Sit a Spell catagory on my sidebar. 

Pictures were taken while on vacation at George Washington State Park in Virginia

Morning Coffee With The Birds

When planting our front gardens, we gardeners think of strolling with a cup of coffee on a sunny morn. We think of how the sun streams through the trees and how we will sit upon the bench. We’ll watch the birds flick the the leaves away in search of a worm or seed. The non- blooming is just as important as the fading blooms atop the branches of the hydrangea. What is beneath our feet along the path is pleasing just as well. And even if not a single one knows our joy, we and birds will have delighted there. 

From my Breakfast with the birds series and the Wilmington collection.

Sit A Spell Stories, The Still

My daddy use to say–If the lead burns red you are dead. Proofing moonshine was done in one of two ways. You could light a match under a spoon of it and if the flame turned blue it was a good proof. A good proof means it had a lot of alcohol in it. If the flame turned red, it had toxins and you’d be blind or dead. Lead burns red.

 Another way was to shake it in the bottle. If it made big bubbles that popped quickly, then it was good. Neither of these methods is reliable cause you can’t detect certain additives that men used back then to boost the proof of their batch. The toxins added like lye and methanol would be deadly but it would make it bubble correctly. 

Many people went blind due to the use of car radiators being used as the condensation coils. The radiator parts or welded points had lead in them.  White Lightening or Moonshine is made from yeast, sugars, corn mash, water, and sometimes  flavorings.  You make moonshine in a Still. You can read about making ‘Shine here. It’s basically all the ingredients above boiling and fermenting away making vapors wich cool in the coils and drip in to the jug waiting at the end. 

I never understood as a child how come we had so much corn and sugar around the house. I thought everybody needed that much. I assumed every house in America needed 2 or 300 lbs of sugar and just as much cornmeal. He’d buy it several times a month in big old huge quantities. My daddy made 190 proof Moonshine. 200 is pure alcohol. My daddy had the most sought after Moonshine in several counties. No one ever went blind or got sick drinking my dad’s ‘Shine. They got divorced and lost their jobs but they never did die. 

The Still looks like a barrel with a cone at the top. Coming off that cone is a long piece of copper tubing in a spiral shape. My daddy use to fill that copper tubing full of sand and wrap it around a fence post in a loose type fashion. The sand inside the copper tubing assured the tubing from getting a kink. Once you got the right spiral shape, you washed the sand out and attached it to the barrel and the jug. 

If you couldn’t afford the copper tubing for the distilling part, then you used a car radiator. My daddy never would use a car radiator cause he said they had lead in the soldered joints. The lead contaminated the ‘Shine and was what made folks sick. 

The mash mix of corn meal, sugar, and yeast started boiling and fermenting. Fermenting means the little yeast critters are eating the sugar and corn and producing a gas as their by product. That gas is your vaporized alcohol and rises to the top of the Still.  The vapors will cool in the spiraled coils and become a liquid. Daddy would let the fist liquid drip on out without catching it cause it had cleansed the coil. Soon he’d determine it was time to start collecting it in a jug. 

I bragged to all my friends that we had a few Stills in our backyard. I was proud of it. My daddy was the son of a mechanic who was the son of an engineer. Our family knew engines and how to construct a good Still. Those are fine ingredients when running “Shine. Those government workers who weren’t buying from you were arresting you. A good fast car came in handy when out running the law. My dad had one of the first 1957 Chevy’s with a 454 and a 4 barrel carburetor. I had three brothers who ran the Shine with him. 

This is how NASCAR got started. Those boys ran ‘Shine at night and made the best race car drivers on the face of the earth—well that’s what daddy said. He and a few well known racing men of today sat around that Still with all the boys and talked racing. I hid in the ring of knowledge. All my stories were learned in the ring of knowledge. It’s that boundary where you can disappear from sight but still hear the conversation. It was very educational.

 He use to take me and my brothers to Bowman Grey race track in Winston Salem, NC and we’d come home with bits of rubber and junk stuck to our scalp. It was fun, loud, and dirty to go to a race back in the 1950s and early 60s. We would always have enough ‘Lightening to please a crowd. They went to Rockingham, Charlotte, Daytona, Darlington, and on and on. I only went when they were home. It was good father and daughter time. 

Daddy drove drunk all the time. Everybody loved my daddy. You’ll find me writing about the good and bad side of my dad. This was actually one of my fond memories. I rather liked all the excitement. That old Still was in our backyard for more than 30 years. The smoke trailed up and danced off the moonlight thus gettting its name—Moonshine. If you ‘Shined during the day the law would see your trail of smoke and find you. Daddy didn’t care sometimes. If he had a big order, he’d ‘Shine all day long. 

Some of you might think I’m from the mountains. I’m not. I’m from the outskirts of a furniture making town. My daddy owned a furniture factory and was a respectable business man. He gave a great deal of money to the Shriners Children Hospital. He gave money and paid the way for many a family to make ends meet. 

Our Still was famous. It was famous with the fire department too. It caught the woods on fire and blew up a couple of times. The vapors would build up too much pressure and blow the top off. That would upset the fire and coals would rain on the dry parched Pines. The firemen loved to come see daddy cause all his profits weren’t burned up in the fire. He always had reserves. The firemen and daddy would talk all night. I’d listen in the ring of knowledge. 

He died in his sleep in 1980. My momma was in the hospital dying of diabetes. I was married about 2 years and living in North Dakota. I’d just had my first child when the call came. I was for sure it was my momma and shocked to find it was my dad. He willed that a autopsy not be performed. We don’t know it— but suspect that he died of lung cancer. My dad was a non-stop smoker. He was good hearted and loved me. I loved him too but there is lots more to this story and some of it not so pretty. But today—we made Moonshine.

*******A hello from the gang at The Shed Blog. You inspired me to go ahead and write this article. They talk about home brew a lot!   http://www.shedblog.co.uk