The woman of the mountains has always been as resourceful in her way as
the man. She made the sweetening for the family's use from a sugar tree
and as often used sorghum from cane for the same purposes, even pouring
the thick molasses into coffee if they were fortunate enough to have
coffee. She made her own dyes from barks and herbs. And though she may
have had a dozen children of her own she was ready and eager to help a
neighbor in time of sickness. Doctors were scarce, so she of necessity
turned midwife to help another through childbirth. She shared the tasks
of her husband in the field and home. She was as busy at butchering time
as the menfolk. Once the hog was killed and cleaned, she helped chop the
meat into sausage and helped to case it. She boiled the blood for
pudding and looked to the seasoning, with sage and pepper, of the head
cheese and liverwurst. Hers was the task of rendering the lard in the
great iron kettle near the dooryard. And once the meat was cut into
slabs she helped salt it down in the meat log. But only the man felt
capable of properly preparing and smoking the ham for the family's use.
She frugally set aside the cracklins, after rendering the lard, for use
in soap-making at the hopper.
At sorghum-making time mother and daughter worked as busily as father
and son. The men cut the cane and fed it to the mill, while the
womenfolk took turns tending the pans in which the syrup boiled,
skimming off the greenish foam and scum that gathered on the top. They
urged the young boys, who hung around on such occasions, to bring on
more wood to keep the fire going under the pans. The owner of the
portable sorghum mill sometimes took his pay for its use in sorghum, if
there was no money to be had. He was paid too for the use of his team in
hauling the mill to the cane patch of the neighbor who had engaged it,
and he himself sometimes tarried to help set it up. A small boy was
sometimes pressed into service to urge the patient mule on its
monotonous course around and around pulling the beam that turned the
mill.
Sorghum-making had its lighter side. The young folks especially found
fun in seeing a guileless fellow step into the skimming hole concealed
by cane stalks. The sport was complete when the bewildered fellow
struggled to free himself from the sticky mess. But the woman was quick
to help him out of his plight by providing a change of raiment and soap
and water and clean towels, "yonder in the kitchen-house." She knew what
to expect at sorghum-making time.
Each season of the year brought its communal activity: corn shucking in
the fall, that was ever followed by a frolic. Bean stringing when the
womenfolk pitched in to help each other out stringing beans with a long
darning needle on long strands of thread. These were hung up to dry and
supplied a tasty dish on cold winter days. There was also
apple-butter-making in the fall when long hours were spent in peeling
and preparing choicest apples which were boiled in the great copper
kettle and richly seasoned with sugar and spice. Apple-butter-making was
an all-day job in the boiling alone but the rich and tasty product is
considered well worth the effort and any mountain woman who cannot
display shelves laden with jars of apple-butter would be considered a
laggard indeed.
But the mountain woman's greatest pride and joy was
handiwork--quiltmaking, crocheting. Perhaps it is because these crafts
have always gone hand-in-hand with courtship and marriage.
At the first call of the robin in the spring, Aunt Emmie on Honey Camp
Run, in clean starched apron and calico frock, dragged her rocker to the
front stoop of her little house and there she sat for hours rocking
contentedly while her nimble fingers moved swiftly with crochet needle
and thread. "Aunt Emmie's crocheting lace for Lulie Bell's wedding
garments." Folks knew the signs. Hadn't Lulie Bell ridden muleback from
Old Nell Knob just as soon as winter broke to take the day with the old
woman. "Make mine prettier than Dessie's and Flossie's," she had said.
Or, "I want the seashell pattern for my pillowcases." Or, "I want you to
crochet me a pretty chair back." "I want a lamberkin all scalloped
deep"--another bride-to-be measured a half arm's length. "I want my
edging for the gown and petticoat to match." Passersby overheard the
talk of the young folk. "Wouldn't you favor the fan pattern?" Aunt Emmie
offered a suggestion now and then while the shiny needle darted in and
out of scallop and loop. Sometimes she dropped a word of advice to the
young, how to live a long and happy married life, how and when to plant,
what to take for this ailment and that. There were things that brought
bad luck, she warned, and some that brought good.
"If a bride plants cucumber seed the first day of May when the dew is
still on the ground, the vines will grow hardy and bear lots of
cucumbers and she will bring forth many babes, too," her words fell on
willing ears of the young bride-to-be. "If you sleep under a new quilt
that no one has ever slept under, what you dream that night will come
true." Many a young miss declared she had experienced the proof of the
saying. There was something else. "Mind, don't ever sew a ripped seam or
patch a garment that's on your back. There will be lies told on you sure
as you do." That could be proved in most any community in the Blue
Ridge.
Yards upon yards of lace Aunt Emmie crocheted, the Clover Leaf pattern,
the Sea Shell, Acorn, the Rose, and if a bride-to-be had no silver, the
lacemaker was content to take in exchange a pat of butter, eggs, or
well-cured ham. Her delight was in the work itself.
The thrifty woman of the mountains takes great pride in her quilts; not
only does she strive to excel her neighbor in the variety of patterns
but in the number as well. On a bright summer day she brings them out of
cupboard and presses, and hangs them on the picket fence to sun. She is
pleased when a passerby stops to admire, and especially so if it be a
young miss. The older woman recognizes the motive behind the question,
"What is this pattern?" "Is this easy to piece?" The older woman knows
the young miss has marrying in her head and goes to great lengths to
explain. "Now this is Compass and Nine Patch and it's easiest of any to
put together. This is Grandmother's Flower Garden--it's a lot of little
bitsy pieces, you see, and a heap of different colors and it's most
powerful tejous to put together. This is Double Wedding Ring, this Irish
Chain"--she names one after another--"this is Neck Tie, and this in the
fair blue and white is Dove in the Window."
The quiltmaker is even more pleased when the young miss comes to take
the day and she has the proud privilege of starting John's or Tom's
future wife on her very first quilt. It is an occasion of merriment when
the quilt is finally finished and taken out of the frames after many a
pleasant quilting bee. Then, at the urging of one of the older women,
two girls shake a cat on the new quilt. The one toward whom the cat
jumps will be married first, they believe. Some brides believe too that
by going to the oldest woman in the community to set up the quilt for
their marriage bed they will be insured long life and joy. There are
lovelorn maidens so eager to peer into the future they will even help a
neighbor on wash day. Two girls will wring a dripping quilt by twisting
it in rope fashion. The one toward whom the end curls up will be first
to rock the cradle.