Smokey Mountain Breakdown

I'm now a member of the Rocky Top Brigade.

This is only fitting since I'm probably the closest geographically to the factual Rocky Top...which is right up the road from me.

The Rocky Top Brigade is "enjoined in the battle for truth, justice, and a good single malt Scotch whiskey for around $20." Plus a whole lotta other stuff with which I totally agree.

It's nice to have company 'cause I've come under attack for eating possum. Turns out, possums have a rabid fan base. (pun totally intended) People always make the mistake of thinking that just because I'm a southerner, that I'm some sort of sloe-eyed, slack-jawed refugee from a Flannery O'Connor short story. Don't make that mistake. I'll hurt you with my terminal degree.

Here are the rules:

If you have the letters "URB" anywhere in the description of where you live and grew up...you can keep your opinions to yourself about my wildlife conservation and pest management practices. I have a right to protect my animals from harm and if wildlife encroaches onto my farm in a destructive manner, I will kill it. After I kill it...I might eat it.

If you don't like the way farmers and ag workers in general manage the land...despite the fact you haven't seen the business end of a cow in who knows how long; are completely divorced from the realities of your food chain; and aren't sure what kind of vegetable a pickle comes from....then stop eating. Get off your rear end and take an agritainment vacation and find out about where your food comes from and the agonizing, back-breaking work that is involved in making it.

Have some respect for farmers...some are highly educated with ag degrees and some have 8th grade educations. What they all do is nothing short of miraculous and country people have their priorities much more in order than most of the rest of us. I may not like the majority of their politics but that's another matter.

I'll probably think of more rules later...particularly if the invasion of the possum people continues.

For the record, I don't need no stinkin' possum lessons.

Day after tomorrow is the First Monday Market at the Morristown, TN Stockyards. I'm hoping it's going to be a fine day for a change so I can go do some shopping.

Morristown is 40 miles away from me and the closest place for serious shopping. They have a mall. Well...sort of a mall. It's not a mall by city standards but it's as much mall as we see without going to Knoxville. Morristown is mostly industrial, but has a charming downtown. It's also fairly big with Civil War Reinactors. Mostly I go there to visit Lowes, Office Max and the Tractor supply. I am now truly happy because they have a T.J. Maxx there.

First Monday is a traditional farmer's small livestock market. You would have seen these fairly regularly throughout history...they are a real throwback to an earlier time when the family farm was king. It's a chance to come down out of the hills, trade stories, sell chickens, take a break from the crushing manual labor, show off your canned and baked goods and make a little money on the side.

I go every chance I get...whether I have money to spend or not. I'll take my cage in the jeep just in case. I'm in the market for some Muscovie duck babies and some guineas.

Okay, I'm driving along and just get a pit in the bottom of my stomach when I see this.

I stop to investigate and am relieved that there isn't a body attached to these boots.

That would've plum messed up my day.

As it happens...somebody forgot to get their wading boots.

The weather here has been absolutely craptastic (thanks to jhaevin for adding that little nugget to my vocabulary). Sunday it was snowing. In Tennessee. In late April. We had a hard freeze, and boy howdy, was I glad I hadn't done one of my early planting sprees. All I had was potatoes in the ground and they are fine with a bit of cold.

Today I got the sweet potato slips...50 of them...in the ground and about 50 cabbage transplants. I'm hoping they do well. The first year here I planted sweet potatoes and they did nothing. The cabbages, I'm hoping to put some kraut up with. I really like kraut on hot dogs and corn beef sandwiches.

Anyway. The sky was mostly this all day today.

How Many Goats Fit in a Jeep?
This is truly madness.

Two does crammed into the cargo area of a Jeep Liberty Renegade. I line the entire thing with tarp but I'll be getting goat smell out of the vehicle for several days.

The two day old kids are crammed into a dog crate in the back seat.

Martha and Lizie (pronounced Lie-zee) were born and lived their entire lives here on Coggins Road off of the Fifteenth. They were twin sisters who stayed behind to take care of their parents and never married. They died a year apart of each other at the ages of 92 and 93.

Martha and Lizie kept a house full of cats. One year, their uncle sent them a shipment of citrus fruit which they turned into marmalade and gave out as gifts. It was the prettiest marmalade you ever saw...except when you held it up to the light, it was swimming in cat hair. Cat hair jelly.

Both were strikingly beautiful women in their youth. They would sit on the rocks of Big Creek with their long black hair hanging about them, as brown as Indian Maidens.

Both girls were known for their beautiful needlework and quilting.

I've felt a certain fondness for these two though I never met them. Perhaps it's because I'm an old maid, too.

"In youth my wings were strong and tireless,
But I did not know the mountains,
In age I knew the mountains
But my weary wings could not follow my vision-
Genius is wisdom and youth."
.....Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology