There is nothing worse than being a little kid and knowing the adults are talking about something and don't want you to hear. Read More
Sometimes as we grow older, we find that the plants of our childhood have become invasive weeds. I remember making dyes from plants, and making sure that I didn't run out of bitter dock, because its roots made the very best yellow dye. I would stand guard over the patch of bitter dock when anybody was weeding our yard. Read More
Of all the plants Aunt Bett and I gathered from the mountainside, Plantago was her favorite. It would cure most anything, she said. I didn't think it had much going for it as far as looks were concerned, except it came in two different sizes, fat and skinny. She called the fat one Broadleaf; the skinny one was Snakeweed. I made sure I wore my asphidity bag when we gathered the Snakeweed. Read More
I thought I knew all my relatives until I heard the grown ups talking about Aunt Mint. They whispered when her name was mentioned, which only served to get my curiosity going full force. This is a story of whispers and sadness, and how even today it makes me smile. This might be a skeleton in my closet. Read More
There are some things that we know for truth when we are children. Read More
There is nothing more beautiful on an early spring morning than to come upon the lovely trillium, stretching her arms and raising her lovely face to catch a glimpse of the morning sun. But with all that beauty, it is the one thing that spoiled Aunt Bett's wedding day. Read More
I asked Aunt Bett why we couldn't pick that beautiful white flower that bloomed in the evening and on into the night. She sat me down right then and there and told me the story of near death and destruction brought about by the misuse of the Devil's Plant. And she made me promise to never touch Devil's Plant no matter what, 'cause the devil got ahold of anybody who did. Read More
My Great Aunt Bett was known as the Medicine Woman in the mountains of eastern Kentucky where I grew up. She was indeed a formidable woman, even to me, since she could drape that stinking asphidity bag around my neck and get by with it. This is the story of our trek up the mountains on our search for the new shoots of poke, and of all the magic held secretly within the pokeweed plant. Read More
In the beginning we dried fruit and vegetables, eventually we canned them for winter storage, then we froze them so that they could be enjoyed throughout several seasons. "Putting up" food was another term for winter storage, and for me it was the most troublesome of all the processes. I was the one who had to put all the food in the smelly, dark root cellar. Read More
Remember how it was when the guy you had been madly in love with for weeks suddenly looked at you and smiled? You were so giddy with joy, you practically fainted right where you were. Well, years ago, that kind of feminine reaction to rapturous excitement was called "swooning". Aunt Bett had a sure cure for a swoon. Read More
Every journey up the mountain with Aunt Bett was an adventure. Gathering bee balm was one of the most exciting since we had to battle the hungry bees to get our fair share, not to mention the fact that the uniform for bee battling was never to be forgotten. This is the third in a series of stories about my great Aunt Bett, the mountain medicine woman. Read More
Aunt Bett liked flowers and plants that served a purpose. That didn't allow much room for a plant to simply be a plant. Trees were for shade, vegetables were for food, and flowers were for medicine. It had been that way for a long time until I buried a twig of the flowering Japanese quince in her yard. Little did I know that it would grow and grow and grow. Read More
The flower grew wild, and bloomed from early spring through all of summer. It was a pretty little thing, and most of the time it was a lavender or pink color. On one of my first trips up the side of the mountain to collect it, I threw a fit because Aunt Bett was gathering the root before the pretty little flower showed its first bloom. My fits were long and loud, and they lasted several hours. Read More
When we are very young and not yet wise in the ways of adults, we tend to see only what is in front of us. I knew at an early age the rights and wrongs, the goods and bads, and the coulds and could nots. Smoking was one of the wrongs, the bads, and the could nots. When I came upon Aunt Bett with smoke coming out of her mouth, I grabbed my asphidity bag and ran home. Read More
I had a hard time understanding what Aunt Bett was going to do with cowslips the first time we climbed the mountain to gather them. Read More
I used a willow basket when I went to gather eggs. I sat in an old willow rocking chair on our front porch. And I was given a tiny sip of willowbark tea to drink when I had a fever. Read More
During all the years of following my Great Aunt Bett up the mountains of eastern Kentucky searching for one illusive plant after another, I never missed a trip with her. Well, until the year I was seven..... Read More
Habits, good or bad, are formed early. Take brushing teeth for example. If I tried to tell you how many times I brushed my teeth during my long life, this page would not hold all the numbers. The same goes for seeds I have collected. This article would not hold all the numbers, because it was a habit I learned early. Read More
Heavily laden with black coal dust, the orange ditch lilies stood tall and proud along side the winding mountain road. Read More
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