I was 23 years old and living in the Appalachians. 9 miles north of Damascus, VA and about 45 minutes south of Boone, N.C. I went up to visit my grandmother's house one weekend and was bitten by the mountain bug (not really just the glamour of living in the mountains). Her house was next to a pretty busy road, mostly trucks and the other side was a wide creek with trout. As you can see in the pictures it could snow pretty good, something this Georgia/Florida/Alabama girl did not see much of. I cannot remember the year of that VW but it had gotten down to only 3 gears and looking at the picture lost a hubcap. I have many fond memories of living there. Across the way was Ruby and Arthur who had lived in West Virginia quite a bit but their home was Laurel Bloomery. They were truly mountain people. They had a little shed in the back of the house that had a wood burning stove. They could count on going out there if the power went out during a storm. They would make cowboy coffee in a big pot. That is water and coffee grounds, let it come to a boil, take it off the heat and wait for the sediment to go to the bottom. Of course your coffee had some grounds but no matter it was good. I loved those two. I would pick cherries off their cherry tree and watch Ruby move like an 18 year old in her big garden. Their most favorite meal was cornbread and pinto beans. I think buttermilk was included in that feast as well. I miss them dearly.
To this day I have never gotten over the mountains. I have been to the Blue Ridge Mts., Rocky Mts., Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon and many others and always love them. They can be covered with trees, rocky with snow, high or low and they will always be dear to my heart.