by David Kurtz, inquisineer.blogspot.com

When I was a youngster, if we wanted to do something special (such as if there was someone visiting), a popular thing to do was to picnic at North Bend State Park. It is only about 30 miles from where I grew up, and was the only state park in the vicinity (although now Blennerhassett Island is a state park). To me, North Bend has always been a wonderful place.

My earliest memories involve piling into our 1960 Oldsmobile and heading out two-lane (not four-lane) Route 50. During those picnics in the old days, pop only came in bottles with metal caps (requiring a bottle opener—no twist offs—and don’t forget to put them back in the six-pack when empty to return to the store) or cans (don’t throw your pop top pull ring on the ground!). There were no styrofoam plates or plastic cups, just paper versions. The ice chest and drink jug were not heavy duty plastic, they were metal.

In the late ’60s during these day trips, we also played “Jarts”–a game best described as horseshoes using lawn darts (with big fins and a heavy point on the end). Because a poorly aimed Jart could penetrate a skull, they have since been banned from the marketplace.

Unlike today’s kids, while the adults set up the picnic, we (usually my cousins) were encouraged to head over to the nearest playground, to do all sorts of “dangerous” activities like monkey bars without the benefit of a rubberized landing area. We also were set free to hike the many trails (with names like the River Trail, the Nature Trail, the Giant Trees trail) within the park, without worrying about deer ticks, timber rattlers, or child predators. One of the best trails involved crossing the low water bridge to Castle Rock. When you could reach the pinnacle of Castle Rock and peer around the countryside above the treetops, you were someone special—and you knew this state park was someplace special, too.

If we were really lucky, we brought our swim suits and trudged up the steps to the pool on top of the hill. There was even natural rock formations bordering the pool area, and it was nice to climb up, spread your towel on the hot rocks, and sit during the mandatory breaks. By the way, I earned my lifesaving certificate my senior year in high school, because my plan was to work for Geraldine (?) as a lifeguard at North Bend before college. She ran the pool, and promised me a job there if I wanted it. However, I had to pass it up when the chemical plant where my dad worked selected me for summer work at a much higher wage.

When my sister and I got older, my parents bought a camping trailer. We visited lots of West Virginia State Parks, but North Bend was our home base. We would often set up camp there for the weekend. In addition to hiking and swimming, we also frequented the miniature golf (no windmills or clowns, just green carpet, brown 4 x 4s, and difficult angles). We always enjoyed the “ranger programs” and got to know the people who worked there pretty well (such as Geraldine, mentioned above).

In particular, Dave Meador was a local teacher who worked as a ranger during the summer. Mr. Meador eventually became Ritchie County School Superintendent, and I was glad that our paths crossed again when I was elected to the Wood County Board of Education. I learned lots of history and science from him. Sometimes there would be nature hikes, or even night hikes (where I learned to hold a flashlight vertically above a tombstone at night to make weather-worn engravings easy to read). He took us to see the Cairo Marble Factory when it was still in business. I remember being fascinated watching those red-hot glass blobs roll down the twin screws, eventually cooling into finished marbles.

We learned all about the oil and gas industry, even visiting a working oil well. The history of the nearby railroads and tunnels and crashes were explained. The sport of orienteering (using a map and compass to find the quickest path to the finish) was tried. We visited the Smithville hermit’s cave, which had been hewn from solid rock by a guy who preferred living a simple life away from society. We explored the remnants of the old town of Cornwallis, including a visit to an old store there that was still full of antiques. I learned lots of Ritchie County lore during time spent with Mr. Meador or the other rangers.

Some major memories took place at North Bend. When I “graduated” from Murphytown Elementary, our class trip was to North Bend State Park. Before junior high school, I was picked to participate in a regional science camp. We stayed at the Harrisville 4-H camp, but many of the activities took place at North Bend.

As a high schooler, I even got to stay alone a time or two when we would leave the trailer there between two weekends. One of these times, I hopped in a small rubber raft and floated down the rain-swollen river, through the park and past Bonds Creek before landing on a big rock, deflating the raft, packing it up into a Hefty garbage bag, and hiking back over the hill past the lodge on my way back to the campground.

Those who weren’t around in 1976 don’t realize what a big deal our nation’s Bicentennial was. Those who do can remember all the hype. Among other things, the TV networks running “Bicentennial Minutes”–short announcements related to what was going on 200 years ago that day. Many families planned where they wanted to be to celebrate that special Fourth of July. For our family, the place to be was North Bend—Dad and I went to the big “Spirit of ’76” race at nearby Pennsboro Speedway on July 4, 1976. Finally, although it brings up a topic better left untouched, my ill-fated marriage began with a honeymoon in a cabin at North Bend.

Although I have not spent much time there in recent decades, at one time I knew North Bend like the back of my hand. That’s why I didn’t mind holding down a campsite there this week and commuting to work like other Ritchie Countians coworkers do. I was glad when Anna and her brothers realized that North Bend would be an equidistant point for the three of them to gather for a family reunion weekend. It let me spend time this week with an old friend.

Dear Sarah,
I wish you could have joined us on our weekend in Lewisburg! We had such a good time. The girls and I arrived at the General Lewis Inn early Friday evening. This lovely place sits at the top of Washington Street, the main drag in Lewisburg. We settled in the inviting white rocking chairs on the front porch where we sat and watched the world go by while we reviewed the evening’s entertainment choices. There were live shows scheduled at Greenbrier Valley Theater, Lewis Theater & Trillium and Carnegie Hall.

We slept in a bit Saturday morning before having the most delicious brunch on the main floor of The General Lewis Inn. We all ordered different foods so we could sample each other’s meal. All the food was wonderful, but I was particularly curious about the rice, it was so moist and full of flavor. Our server shared the chef’s secret — he cooked it in chicken broth.

Having done some homework on what to do before we came, we decided to just leave the car in the parking lot until we left again on Sunday. How nice is that? We did have to walk back up the hill a few times but we counted that as exercise and felt virtuous in the process.  Jim Morgan, who runs the Inn, said his father used to say the walk to downtown was, “Three blocks there and six blocks back.” He wasn’t kidding.

We started our Lewisburg adventure shopping, of course. The shops of Lewisburg are a quirky mix of old and new, antiques, art galleries, dress shops and, oh – we’ll just have to visit again so you can see for yourself. Truly, there is something for everyone. There are more than five galleries in town, plus  more than a dozen specialty shops. We got waylaid in a few, talking to the owners, all of whom are just like Aunt Linnibelle. I felt Linda at Howe’s Things would offer us a glass of iced tea and lemon cookies at any moment.

While we were shopping we paused at a new bike shop called, I love this, “Hill and Holler.”  We decided not to act our age and rented a few bikes in the afternoon. What fun. The owner, Merrick, helped us pick out bikes with baskets and we peddled down the street. We got some strange looks; let me tell you, but the wind in our hair made us feel like we were 12 years old again.

We made a detour to Bella’s ~ a kitchen shop on the main street ~ and picked out a huge market basket of goodies for a late picnic lunch. The shop girl, Amy, recommended the best cheese twists ever. Next time, when you can join us, we‘ll get food and pick out a few bottles of wine.

Oh Sarah — Carnegie Hall. Stately, exquisitely restored, nestled at the end of town next to the college and the North House (a museum for our next trip). We parked our bikes and ourselves under a blooming tree in the Hall yard for our picnic. When we finished eating, we ventured inside to view the free art exhibit. Next trip, when you join us, we’ll catch a performance there.

     That afternoon, we rode around the town towards our scheduled highlight of our Girl’s Day Out ~ a spa treatment! What heaven. Remember how we were told not to miss Botanique Skin Studio? Well, Kacie, the owner, is about as sweet as can be. Susan and I got facials, but Peggy went shopping some  more. (I think she saw something earlier that she wanted to buy for Susan’s upcoming birthday.)

Pampered and primed, we returned to the Inn for a quick change and then back downtown for dinner and some drinks. So many choices to make. Traditional? Upscale? Mexican? American? Cafe? We ended up at the Irish Pub, which felt as though we took a detour and somehow, ended up in Ireland. We enjoyed Irish stew,  and could choose from dozens of select beers.  Peggy had margaritas, but Susan and I tried a few of the darker beers. Giggling afterwards, we kicked off our heels for the walk back to the Inn and felt as though we were all back in high school.

I slept late Sunday morning, and found the girls walking the halls of the Inn when I left my room, admiring all the antiques on display. You would have loved the antique furnishings and decorations that fill the Inn.  In fact, this town is flourishing with antiques. Sarah, you would just drool.

We had brunch at the Inn before we gathered our bags to leave. During brunch, a lady at the neighboring table suggested we stop on our way out of town at Fortunate Finds, the most adorable little vendor mall. I found yet another Brownie camera for my collection, Sarah, and you would have spent a pretty penny there too I am sure.

We missed you this weekend Sarah. I hope you are recoup-erating well. Next time, you will join us on our little escape. We’ll just have to come back so you can enjoy it with us. OK? Really! Get out your calendar and see how July looks for you, because next time we’re taking  bikes along the Greenbrier River Trail and a trip down the Greenbrier River too.

I can’t wait to see you, Love Jane

There was a time when just about everyone lived on a two-lane, one lane, or no lane road in rural West Virginia.  For the most part, this lack of congestion made life a bit  simpler.  Everyone had a little more elbow room and there were fewer causes for conflict among neighbors. But semi-isolated living was not without its problems.  Everyone could let their chickens and dogs roam free.  Chicken freedom did not cause any problems, but free roaming dogs could cause some grief.  The chickens always came home to roost but that was not always the case with dogs.

Down along the beautiful Elk River where I spent my youth, stray dogs were a fact of life.  Oftentimes, when they inadvertently encroached on the turf of your dogs, fights would occur.  The fights were usually brief.  Harmless shots would occasionally ring out from the porches of the home turf dogs. They were not lethal shots.  They were just designed to scare away the intruders.

But the appearance of stray dogs did not always end happily. Some of them like to chase the chickens or tree cats.  When that kind of behavior occurred, the shots became very unfriendly, sometimes resulting in the death of a dog.  Relationships between neighbors could sometimes get ugly when someone shot a dog.

     But my favorite kind of stray dog was the one who just showed up and ate whatever was available around your place, then harmlessly parked himself on your porch and took a nap.  He was not a troublemaker.  He was just a drifter.  When the homeowner came out to investigate, the dog would just wag his tail and come to be petted.  The problem then became, “what do I do with this critter?”  If you didn’t know the dog, or have any idea where he came from, you had a problem.  No one wanted to shoot a friendly dog, so oftentimes, the pooch just became a resident.

A few weeks ago, even in 2012, such a critter showed up at my house.  He was a puppy, probably put out of a car somewhere nearby.  He just showed up one night, ate all of the cat food on the porch, climbed up into a lounge chair, and waited for me to get up.  When I went out the next morning he greeted me with a waggy tail and big, inviting brown eyes.  He was a beautiful puppy, healthy looking, and, for a puppy, well behaved.

Even though he struck fear and trembling into my two cats, he had no intention of harming them.  He just wanted to play.

Even though he was probably less than six months old, he was a BIG dog.  He had huge feet and weighed around 25 pounds.  Despite all of his charms, he presented a major problem for me. I like dogs, but my life as an itinerant musician and dancer does not lend itself to being a dog owner.  That’s why I have cats.  I can leave them for a few days and they survive just fine.  They’ve been with me fourteen years.

I realized very soon that I needed to get rid of the puppy quickly because he and I were about to bond.  He was a very good puppy, the kind of puppy that will attach itself to you in a very short time.  So, even though it was a difficult thing to do, I had to take him to a shelter.  The ladies at the Braxton Animal Shelter assured me that they would have no trouble finding a home for such a beautiful and friendly puppy.

This was not the first time some absolutely rotten person has “set a dog out” on my road.  I’m sure it looks like a safe place to deposit an unwanted pet.  But I can’t think of anything more low down than throwing a poor dog out to fend for himself in the woods.

Mack Samples is a writer and musician who lives in Clay County. Visit online at http://www.macksamples.com or email him at macksamples@gmail.com.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2

SEED SNAP BEANS

THURSDAY, MAY 3

SEED HEAD LETTUCE

FRIDAY, MAY 4

Burnsville Methodist Church Rummage/Bake Sale, Thru May  5. 9 – 4 each day.  304-853-2476. Right beside Little General Store

Gilmer VFD Spring Fling Begins – (thru 5/60). Gilmer County Recreation Center. Entertainment, games, food. 304-462-7700

The McKameys with special guest Forgiven 4, 7 p.m. at Spencer Middle School Auditorium. Advance Tickets are $12, at door $15. Tickets may be purchased at with credit card or PayPal at  www.roanehomecoming.com.

Roundup Country, Big Otter Community Center, 7 pm

SATURDAY, MAY 5

FULL FLOWER MOON

Mountain Flea Market, Methodist Church, Mountain WV (Ritchie County) 9 am to 2 pm. Rent a table by calling 304-659-3140.

Ohio Valley Limousin Association Sale, 1 pm. Interstate & Exhibition Fairgrounds, Mineral Wells. For info, 304-483-1748

Ramp Dinner – 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the Erbacon Community Center, 304-742-3903

17th Annual Marble Festival – Cairo Community Building,  10am-3pm.  No admission, no set-up fee. 304.628.3445

Longaberger Basket Bingo Saturday, Heritage Park Community Building, Spencer, WV. Doors open at 3:00 p.m.

The Round Ups, 7 pm. UWF Park, Rt 16, Chloe, WV

SUNDAY, MAY 6

Ramp Dinner, 11 am, Frametown VFD. For info, 304-364-5519

Sunday Dinner – 12:00-2:00, Big Otter Community Center.  $8 adults,   $4 children.

MONDAY, MAY 7

SEED CUCUMBERS

Monthly Meeting  at the show-grounds for the Bluegrass Riding Club,  6:30 p.m.

Bingo, 6 pm, Gilmer County VFD

American Legion Post 33 Meets, Braxton Senior Center, 7pm. All Veterans Welcome, 304-765-4107.

TUESDAY, MAY 8

PRIMARY ELECTION DAY

WEDNESDAY, MAY 9

SEED SWEET CORN

FRIDAY, MAY 11

Basket Bingo, Calhoun County Middle High School Commons Area, 6:00 p.m.

Appalachian String Band, Big Otter Community Center, 7 pm, Doors open at 5.

SATURDAY, MAY 12

West Virginia Strawberry Festival – “An Exciting Family Tradition”. May 12 – May 20
Buckhannon, West Virginia – www.wvstrawberryfestival.com, ( 304) 472-9036

Yard Sale – Big Otter Community Center, 8 a.m. – ? To rent a table for $10.00 call 304-286-2383.

Bluegrass Riding Club Show at showgrounds – 3 p.m.  For information call (304) 927-1977.

Sharpshooters, 7 pm. UWF Park, Rt 16, Chloe, WV

1st WVSF Horse & Carriage Parade, 5 pm. Strawberry Lane, Buckhannon. 304-472-9036

SUNDAY, MAY 13

MOTHER’S  DAY

MONDAY, MAY 14

Bingo, 6 pm, Gilmer County VFD

FRIDAY, MAY 18

Sharp Shooters, Big Otter Community Center, 7 pm

SATURDAY, MAY 19

Calhoun Tire Collection – Cabot Recycling Station, 9a.m.- 4 p.m.  Residents of Calhoun may bring old tires for disposal. Only car, ATV, and light truck tires 16 inches or less.  304-354-7786.

Second Annual Charity Bike Show., Weston,  Main Street, 8am-8pm. 304-439-1085

Elk River Pedal & Paddle Challenge, Clay County, For info, 304-587-4455

County Line Country, 7 pm. UWF Park, Rt 16, Chloe, WV

Ki No Me Bonsai Show – Town Square, Cairo, WV.  304.628.3905,   saturdaysonthesquare@yahoo.com

SUNDAY, MAY 20

NEW  MOON

MONDAY, MAY 21

Gospel Sing – Big Otter Community Center.  Opens at 4p.m. w/ concessions available. Singing starts at 6.

Bingo, 6 pm, Gilmer County VFD

TUESDAY, MAY 22

SEED  SWEET CORN

THURSDAY, MAY 24

Webster County Woodchopping Festival Begins, Webster Springs, for info – 304-847-7666. Runs thru 5/27

FRIDAY, MAY 25

37th annual Vandalia Gathering Beings, thru 5/27. Charleston Capitol Complex. www.wvculture.org/vandalia/

Upper West Fork Park Music Festival Begins. Rt. 16, Chloe, WV. Runs thru 5/27.

Sharp Shooters, Big Otter Community Center, 7 pm

SUNDAY, MAY 27

Memorial Balloon Launch – purchase & release a balloon in memory of a loved one. Sales begin @ 2 PM, Launch is @ 4: pm.  Clay County Park at Maysel, WV. 304-587-7530

MONDAY, MAY 28

MEMORIAL DAY

Bingo, 6 pm, Gilmer County VFD

THURSDAY, MAY 31

FIRE SEASON ENDS

Calhoun County Wood Festival Begins, Grantsville, WV. For info, 304-532-0084

  The wilderness was a dangerous place indeed and the land that eventually became known as West Virginia was proof of this bloody fact, time and time again. Dangers lurked in forests, rambling rivers, and mountain hollows. The threat of aggressive Indians, incurable diseases, frigid winters, lack of food and the occasionally crossing of a angry bear, hungry mountain lion and poisonous snake often ended a settlers life at an earlier than anticipated age. Various conflicts and massacres occurred and word spread like the rapid rivers that crossed the territory. It truly was a dark and boldly time in our state’s history. It was also a time filled with superstitions and ghost stories such as these.

In 1774, Jacob Greathouse led a group of settlers into the Ohio River Valley to an area known as Yellow Creek. Greathouse and his gang of settlers murdered approximately one dozen Mingo Indians right across the Ohio River from where Chief Logan and his Mingo village slept. Among those murdered were kin to the Great peace loving Chief. When Logan’s village heard the shots, Logan’s father was one of the first in a canoe to race towards the opposite shore. He was killed by a bullet from Greathouse’s party before he got halfway across the river. Logan’s entire family was murdered. Logan had been friend to both white and Indian but this event changed things. Logan vowed revenge and a settler by the name of Tom Evans was caught in the middle of it all.

Tom’s left hand was cut off by the Indians after they murdered and scalped him. His mutilated body was brought back to Prickett’s Fort which is located in present day Marion County. Poor Tom left behind a grieving widow and several children. The story says that Tom’s body was buried in the Fort cemetery but the tale doesn’t stop there. Not too long after the hasty burial, screams and moans could be heard coming from the cemetery. Was it possible? It sounded like a man screaming and it sounded like Tom to all who could hear it. The family ran to the cemetery and found a skeletal hand. A left hand. On further examination, a gold band was found on the ring finger just as Tom had worn his.

Speculation arose after that event and the stories ran wild. Many believed that the Indians who had killed Tom believed his evil spirit was attached to the hand. They believed the Indians had brought the hand back and placed it at the new grave in the hope the spirit would leave them and rest. Ghost stories arose left and right over this and just like folklore, cannot be confirmed or denied.

There are other spooky tales associated with the Fort although opinions vary as to whether they are “real” or not. What I do know though, as a paranormal researcher, is that any spot seeped in tragedy or violence can abound with spectral stories such as that of Mrs. Ox.

In 1775, young Isaac Prickett went out to help Mrs. Ox bring in the cattle at the Fort. Isaac was 16 years old that year and was the son of pioneer Jacob Prickett. Shawnee Indians happened to be nearby that fateful day and heard the cow bells which attracted them to Mrs. Ox and the youth. The attacked Mrs. Ox and killed and scalped Isaac. Mrs. Ox was abducted and taken away, never to be seen again. Some claim she returns to this very day, but in spirit form.

There are some who have been to Pricketts Fort who have seen mysterious shadow walking across the back porch of one specific building. It vanished mysteriously. Some report being tapped on the shoulder by an unseen force or person. Some interpreters have mentioned to visitors that have seen shadows walking past open doors and upon examination, no one is present.

Prickett’s Fort abounds with history and perhaps some mystery as well. What causes the sound of whispers and chattering voices to be heard in an empty meeting house? What caused the bobbing light in the cemetery that multiple people have seen?

This spring is the perfect time for a road trip and a venture. Get off I-79 just north of Fairmont. Visit the tour center and get a ticket to explore. Pack a lunch, wear some walking shoes, check out the cemetery and oh, and don’t forget that camera either. (wink wink)

For more information, visit www.PrickettsFort.Org.

Sherri Brake is a paranormal investigator and published author. Visit  www.HauntedHistory.net.

Mom’s philosophy is that “You always need something to look forward to.” April is associated with a rhyme that reiterates what Mom was talking about—“April showers bring May flowers.” This rhyme dates back to the mid 1500’s but still encourages us today. It’s a statement promising a whole bouquet of hope if we just endure the present condition. Let’s face it, we all have a little rain in our lives sometime, but like my mom suggests, hold something on the horizon you can look forward to and it will make the “rain” much more tolerable…and joy experienced in the pure anticipation alone is worthy of the effort! For example, it helps stop the tears when I leave my beloved West Virginia if I already have a date set to return.

One of the best scenarios of this philosophy played out in history is the Easter story. The sorrow of Good Friday can be eased by the hope of Easter Sunday. If you get the chance to spend a few minutes in front of a computer, there is a beautiful and artfully done video of this on YouTube under the title Sunday’s Comin’ produced by IgniterMedia and powerfully orated by a pastor named John L. Jefferson. Friday might be sad, but Sunday’s a comin’. My friend, those May flowers are going to be exquisite!

I think we do have to be mindful though not to be so focused on the future that we miss the lesson of the present. There once was a young school teacher who left her mark by missing what was in front of her face. She was teaching school for the very first time and was attending the faculty Christmas party. After hours of fixing her hair and make up, she gathered her confidence and arrived at the front door of the host teacher’s house. She was so busy looking into the room to see if  anyone she knew was already there that she walked right into the clear storm door window, leaving an imprint of her make-up face on the glass and alerting the entire party inside so they could laugh hysterically at the new kid in the education pool. I (I mean she) had to check her dignity at the door and accept that she had made quite a lasting impression. Life lesson learned? Appreciate what’s in front of you. Anticipate joyfully the fragrance and beauty of May flowers but not at the expense of disregarding the April showers…

Sometimes the future is such that we can’t get a clear vision of what’s ahead. We simply don’t know what to look forward to! All we can do is focus on the immediate. Maybe the April showers are soaking us to the bone and we can’t see for the rain in our eyes. Sometimes it’s hard to be optimistic. Growing up on Red Gate Farm we would go check the sheep at night during lambing season, late March or early April. If the moon was lazy, the trek to the sheep-house was in total darkness save for the lantern Dad would carry. I can still see it illuminating his steel-toed rubber work boots that he’d buy each year with ginseng money. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t see what lie ahead of us because we trusted the one we followed. We might not be able to yet see the flowers of May, just trust that they are a comin’.

Mom’s right as usual, we all need something to look forward to,  whether it’s a talk with a friend, guilt free time curled up with a good book, a trip home, a walk in the sun…or a dance in the April rain.

Janet Fliegel is a WV farmgirl currently surviving in a suburb of Cincinnati. 

It’s taken a few years, but my body has finally adjusted to country time. When I lived in the city, I was a night owl. I stayed up late, slept in, and thought 8 a.m. was early. In the country I am forced to adapt to my surroundings and actually wake up with the sun.

My husband was the first key to my sleeping transformation. He went to bed at 9 p.m. and woke up between 4 and 5 a.m. At first, my body failed to function that early, which wasn’t helped by the fact that I refused to comply. I needed at least 3 hours more sleep or else I was not fun to be around.

Unfortunately, early to rise for my husband also meant early to bed. I resisted the time change for a long time. When the clock struck 9 p.m., I would dread bed. My husband would fall fast asleep. There I would lie awake, thinking about all the things I used to do when I lived alone as a night owl. After 9 p.m. was the best time to surf the Internet, read a book, play a computer game, write a story, or sometimes I would even pull out an exercise video.

With no computer and the fear of waking up my husband, the only activity I could still do was to read a book and read I did. I read for hours trying to make myself fall asleep. I finally began to bring my books to bed and read. With a bed lamp I satisfied my night owl by reading myself to sleep.

It’s easier to go to bed early that it is to get up early. Getting up early has been a challenge for me my whole life. My mom is a night owl and my father starts his day between 3-4 a.m. My dad has always started his mornings bright and early. The alarm would go off and he would jump out of bed, never using the snooze button. This is the opposite of me. I love the snooze button. Some days I would set the alarm an hour before I had to get up and hit the snooze button until it was time to get up. This worked when I was single but apparently a snooze button that continually goes off can get kind of annoying. Imagine that!

This became the beginning of the end for my sleep pattern. My husband would tell me, “Why don’t you just get up?” I resisted until the day my daughter was born. She forced me to finally break my habit. We co-sleep and initially, I woke up to tears every morning, but as she has grown older she has changed her ways of waking me up.  Now, at 18 months, she uses cuteness. In a gentle, loving way she pets my face. Then she jumps on my side and leans over my face slowly creeping until she finds my lips. She tenderly holds my face and gives me a sweet, soft kiss. Now that’s a wake- up call I can handle.  It beats the snooze button every time.

 Suggestions for our City Girl Transplant? Feel free to share at zoezolt@gmail.com.

I wonder how many of us got into trouble with our mothers when we were children because we snapped off the flower buds of her tulips and daffodils? I certainly remember an occasion or two when I felt my mother’s wrath after handing her a bunch of unopened buds. I also remember some short-stemmed bouquets given to me by my young sons, their face beaming because they’d brought me flowers. Trying to get those poor stems into water was futile and all a mother can do in such situations is smile, hug her children and grieve silently for the gorgeous flower bed she will not have that year.

In some cases picking the flowers can be a good thing. Consider the violet, that lowly but lovely early spring blossom that turns shady corners of yards and roadsides a deep purple when in full bloom.  Violets are a tasty addition to salads, lending color, crunch and an unusual flavor. Violets were thought to mean modesty and tender love in Victorian “floriography,” which assigned meanings to the names of flowers. White violets were said to mean truthfulness, and if you dream of violets good fortune is coming your way.

Then there is the redbud, the shrub-like tree that graces our hills with its branches full of tiny purple-red blossoms to provide a fine contrast to the white dogwood. Did you know that redbud flowers can be made into jelly? I tried it two years ago and it was delicious, tart and sweet with a very distinct flavor. The flowers can be eaten and are crunchy in texture with a tart lemony taste. The redbud is sometimes called the “Judas Tree” because Judas supposedly hanged himself from its branches.

Later in the season roses come into bloom. Rose petals can be harvested for rose jelly, dried for potpourri, or scattered on a salad. Rose water is easy to make and is a refreshing spritzer. Red roses signify love while yellow roses mean happiness (although I have also heard exactly the opposite), white means purity and pink roses mean admiration, according to the Victorians.

Daylilies, or tiger lilies as they are often called, come into bloom about the same time as roses and are excellent when dipped into an egg batter and fried. I like to take each petal individually, batter-dip and fry them, then serve with a salsa dip. The buds can be mixed into soups and stews, and if you are quick enough in early spring, the young daylily shoots can be added to salads. They’re crunchy and sweet.

The ancient Chinese believed that daylilies were a symbol of filial devotion and thoughtfulness.  Elderberry flowers can also be eaten-they make a fine jelly, and can be used in cooking or prepared like the daylilies to make fritters. The elberberry plant was considered to have magical and not altogether friendly properties by the ancients; it was considered unlucky to break off a branch. Consider yourself warned!

Later in the summer, nasturtiums add a peppery flavor to salads and squash and pumpkin blossoms can also be harvested and prepared like daylilies, batter-dipped and deep-fried.  Nasturtium and squash must be too lowly  for notice since no significance was attached to either in the world of flower meanings.

As with all wild foods, do your homework and exercise care to be sure you have identified the plants correctly. There are many books that give accurate photos and descriptions of the edible wild plants, as well as websites with excellent information. But after tasting some of these flowers you may find yourself telling your children, “Yes, please pick the flowers!”

A professional storyteller, Granny Sue has several published works at http://www.grannysu.blogspot.com.