the zuraw wagon

One of the most prestigious displays at the Foxfire museum, the Zuraw wagon is documented as the only surviving wagon to have traveled the Trail of Tears in the late 1830s. Some facts about the wagon:

• It was built in the 1700's (don't you wish your car lasted that long)


• It's known as a Pennsylvania Dutch freight wagon


• It's also known as a Tar Grinder, because wooden wheel hubs were lubricated with a tar-line substance made from pine sap


• It measured 9 feet, 6 inches long

The first recognized owner was Green B. Daves (1803-1880). A North Carolina native, Daves moved to Sevierville, Tennessee as a child. As an adult, he moved to Fannin County, Georgia. Later, he contracted with the U.S. Army to move the Cherokees from Georgia on the Trail of Tears.

The wagon traveled all the way to the Rocky Mountains before being permanently retired in Georgia. Upon Green's death, the wagon passed to his son, Joseph Daves (1831-1908). Joseph's daughter Alice inherited the wagon. She was the wife of Landon Pickelsimer, and they moved to Cartersville, Georgia, where they lived into the mid 1950's. Their son, John, inherited the wagon when Landon died. When John moved from Cartersville to Atlanta, he gave the wagon to Retta Pickelsimer Zuraw, who was Landon's niece. In 1975, she donated the wagon to the Foxfire Museum.

According to Cherokee records, 701 wagons were used on the Trail of Tears. This wagon and others were most likely used to haul supplies, or transport those too young, too old or too sick to walk on their own. More than 14,000 people were part of the six-month, 2,200 mile journey that began in October of 1838. More than 4,000 people perished.

---Laura

prosperity is a hog scalding pot

What you see is a picture of a hog scalding pot, taken at the Foxfire Museum grounds.

Anyone who had any kind of money got one of these pots. I've also seen a larger version of this at the Traveler's Rest historic site.

Depending on your economic status, some would consider this a necessity for farm life and some would consider it a luxury. Set into an outdoor fireplace, you can fill it with water, set a fire burning underneath, and use it for all kinds of chores. The biggest thing is, as the name implies, to use during hog killing time in the fall.

First the hog would be killed, which would need to be done with the onset of cooler weather, so the meat would not go bad. When killed, the carcass would be hung, usually with a rope and pulley system, and drained. The same pulley system would be used to move the hog, suspend it over the pot, where they would dip the hog to clean the body and loosen the hair for scraping.

This may be the stuff of vegetarian's nightmare. Following this violence, the carcass would be butchered and prepared -- meat for smoking, meat for salting into salt pork or fatback.

But as they say in the commercials: BUT THERE'S MORE.

Because no farm implement has one use only. The pot could also be used to make lye soap, for large quantities of food during community events, and for dying wool. In fact, different types of pots made from different metals would cast a different color to the dye. For example, an iron hog pot such as this would impart iron into an existing color and "sadden" it. So if they made a dye with marigolds, it would be one color in a tin pot, and a "saddened" color in an iron pot.

Today, they artificially create that effect by adding iron. They didn't have to back then.

Hog scalding pot equals invaluable farm tool. Pretty amazing. And thanks to Foxfire for all the information.

--Laura

a visit to foxfire

The Savannah House, originally uploaded by lalapapawawa.

I think childhood memories are interesting when you shine the light of adulthood on them. When I was growing up, I remember a set of books my parents had, hardbacked volumes called Foxfire. They looked like Reader's Digest Condensed books, which my parents also had all over the house. But they were different.

I admit - I did not read them closely. First, they weren't exactly stories, more like mini documentaries, and at that age, they did not rate higher than my music. But my opinion of the books was that they contained fascinating stuff I wanted to know LATER, when I was old and intellectually engaged.

What's Foxfire? First, Foxfire is a fungus, growing on rotted fallen wood in warmer months. I can only assume it grows in other places as well, but I don't know. Better yet, it glows. Who can beat that? In 1966, a group of English class students chose the name for a magazine they wanted to publish, containing interviews of elderly folks in their community.

What you should know is that these kids were growing up where the conception of Appalachian people was that they were irrelevant hillbillies. Irrelevant. Hillbillies. Hi kids. You come from nothing. Welcome to your life. Well, they rejected that concept. Or maybe they didn't reject it. Maybe they were truly worried that the press was right. Either way, as they interviewed the elders of their community, they discovered something altogether different. They found people with a stubborn self-sufficiency, and quite honestly, the skills and craftsmanship that built lives from raw materials. Can you say that? Can you say you built your house, made your clothes, and not only that, can you say you raised the sheep which were shorn, then spun the wool, then weaved it into cloth to make your clothes? No, you can't, so maybe WE are the rather useless and irrelevant generation, have you considered that before? So, that magazine turned into a book. Well, books... with volumes... And moreover, the book money was used to buy property, in the northeast Georgia town of Mountain City.

In other words, the students found exactly what they were looking for, legacy included. Because what happened in the mountains wasn't just a school project, but a redisocvery, and a connection to people who shouldn't be forgotten. And it became a land trust, a mind trust, even a teaching method, which connects students to their local community, showing how the community is a resource in your learning, suggesting even that where you live, where you come from has SIGNIFICANCE, should be ACKNOWLEDGED, should be REMEMBERED. I know, how old-fashioned is that?

So here's the funny part. I visited Foxfire for the first time last month. I've lived in Georgia since I graduated from university. I lived in Rabun County, where it's located, for five years before moving to metro Atlanta. So, in late March, after I spent the week training at one of my company's Center's, I decided it was time to correct that.

The grounds are very discreetly tucked away up the side of a steep hill. Advertised, but not well advertised. The poor car is used to gravel roads by now, but that doesn't mean she likes them. You may never visit this place. I may never visit them again. But they are doing their part to preserve important things. If you have a chance to visit the website I linked to above, you might consider making a donation to the cause. They need your help. I did. Because 30 years after I gave those books a first glance, I'm finally there - I'm old, and intellectually engaged.

Right now, it's time to interact with the real world. I'll share some pictures from Foxfire later.

--Laura

room for a shade garden

A week ago, I buried Petey the dog in the corner of my property, resting on his pet bed.

It's a funny thing about stuff like this. You never get everything you wanted. For instance, I will always be nagged by the fact that Petey needed me and I wasn't there. The last night of his life, he was with a stranger. But the gift in that situation was that he was wearing a collar. The tag on the collar was used to track him to me. When I got the call, my mom grabbed a towel and came with me. That was a gift. And when I walked into the room where he was resting, the look on his face said he was relieved for our reunion. That was a gift. As mom sat in the backseat holding Petey still, and I took the drive to the vet, whenever I spoke, he struggled to get into the front seat with me. Mom asked if I could reach behind me and calm him. I could. And touching him DID calm him. That was a gift. He loved me and he was reassured that I was there. When the vet told me his back was broken and dogs don't recover from that, I had no long tortured struggle about how to proceed. There was no decision to make, and that was a gift. While she prepared the shot to put him down, I had time to peacefully talk to him, stroke his fur and calm him. I put my head next to his and kissed his ear as she listened to his heartbeat. He had my full attention right to his last breath, and that was a gift too. It was my fault that he was hurt, but at least I could spare him some suffering.

And the final gift was having friends who'd drop what they were doing to meet me at the vet's office, to load my dead dog into my car, follow me home, and help me dig the hole to put him in. Do you have a friend who'd do that? I do.

Anyway, after the hole was dug, after I opened the box to let Mollie see him, after I'd tucked him into his bed and taped the top shut again, after the dirt had covered him back up, after a few women stood in the yard and cried like teenage girls, my mom suggested that on her return visit, we should plant a shade garden around him. It's a good idea. So, what goes in a shade garden in zone 7? I decided to research it, like I always do. Here are some I like.

Shade plants I like for zone 7:

Arc En Ciel Cinquefoil
Potentilla 'Arc En Ciel'

Brilliance Autumn Fern
Dryopteris erythrosora 'Brilliance'

Winterglow Bergenia
Bergenia cordifolia 'Winterglut'

Cameo Series Blue & White Columbine
Aquilegia flabellata 'Cameo Series Blue & White'

A week before Petey died, I found two shade plants in Alabama. They are helleborus called Silver Prince. I think that's fitting, given that Petey was getting old, like a silver haired old man. Petey won’t follow me when I move. He won’t ever have another yard to run in. This is it. This is the one. And I won't get to watch over him once I leave. So, I have decided that I’d like to leave it better than I found it. See, he never asked for much. In return, he was a great companion. He loved me alot, which made me feel like the most amazing person ever. I didn't want him to leave like this, or this soon.

So we're going to make room for a shade garden around my little buddy. And that's where I hope to find the gift in it.

--Laura