NEWS FROM THE HILLS
The katydids have been sounding a warning for some time now, their quarrelsome cry punctuating the early nighttime air.‑ There is an old saying that when the katydids begin to call, it will be six weeks until frost.‑ That must be just an old wives’ tale, as they have been heard for three or four weeks now.
Still, we can feel that summer is fading, and the seasons will begin their inevitable change before long. ‑August has been called the bridge between summer and fall, and that is true.
These recent days are reminiscent of autumn, with pleasant days and cool nights.‑ The katydids tell us that now is the time to prepare for cold days ahead.
The Joe-Pye weed is looming above the other wildflowers, lovely lavender blooms that will soon turn gray.‑ Wild sunflowers and coreopsis add their sunny yellow hue to the road banks, although they are beginning to look somewhat ragged.
We are still feeling the effects of dog days, with resulting mold and mildew, and salt shakers that clog and won’t perform their duty.‑ Dog days are typically hot and humid, lasting for 40 days as the Dog Star rises and sets with the sun.
Gardens are at their peak, and like the industrious ant, we are scrambling to preserve all we can for winter’s use.‑ The Lord has surely blessed us with abundant crops this year, and we are grateful.‑ The cucumbers and squash flourished, and we have the best crop of half-runner beans that we have had in a long time.‑ The rainfall and temperature must have been nearly perfect.
I love this scripture in 65th Psalm which says, “Thou waterest the ridges there of abundantly: thou settest the furrows thereof:‑ thou makest it soft with showers: thou blessest the springing thereof.
“Thou crownest the year with thy goodness; and thy paths drop fatness.‑ They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness: and the little hills rejoice on every side.
“The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.”
What marvelous blessings the Lord does bestow upon us!‑ Too many times we forget who sends the blessings.‑ My dad used to say that a lot of people are like a hog eating acorns—they never look up to see where their blessings are coming from.
All these blessings bring a responsibility upon us to take care of them.‑ These are the frantic days of summer, when one crop is conquered, there is another one waiting.‑ The corn patch and green beans are finished for now, and tomatoes and kraut are waiting.
Wavaline Hall from Gassaway wrote for a recipe to make pickled beans in quart jars.‑ Since I had never done this, I called my sister-in-law Ruth for the procedure.‑ She said to cook the beans about half done, drain and place in jars.‑ Add 1 1/2 teaspoons of coarse salt and one teaspoon of sugar.‑ Fill the jar with boiling water and place lid on loosely.‑ When the beans are pickled to your taste, then they can then be cold packed.
My sister Mary Ellen says that she has found that two teaspoons of salt give better results.‑ Mom used to pickle Logan Giant pole beans, and they were so good.‑ Criss has an aversion to pickled beans, so I never make them.
Does anyone know how to make salt pickles?‑ Pat Runnion called and requested the recipe, and I can’t find it.‑ She would appreciate a response.
Irene Dunn from Columbia Station, Ohio, wants to know where the expression “graveling potatoes “comes from?‑ I don’t know.‑ We have used that expression since I can remember, and still do.‑ (Her city neighbors questioned her.)
It is a simple procedure.‑ When young potatoes begin to form on the roots, you take a fork, or fingers, and carefully lift out the little potato through a crack in the hill.‑ This way, the other potatoes are undisturbed and able to grow larger until digging time.‑ Those little potatoes, creamed with milk, salt, pepper and butter are some of summertime’s best fare.
Here is the song, “Swinging ‘Neath the Apple Tree” sent by Shirley Bailey of Craigsville.
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ “Oh the sports of childhood, roaming thro’ the wildwood
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Running o’er the meadows, happy and free;
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ But my heart’s a-beating, for the old time greeting,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging ‘neath the old apple tree.
Chorus:‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging, swinging, swinging, swinging,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Lulling care to rest ‘neath the old apple tree;
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging, swinging, swinging, swinging,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging ‘neath the old apple tree.
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swaying in the sunbeams, floating in the shadow,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Sailing on the breezes, happy and free;
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Chasing all our sadness, shouting in our gladness,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging ‘neath the old apple tree.
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Oh, the sports of childhood, roaming through the wildwood,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Singing o’er the meadows, happy and free;
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ How my heart’s a-beating, thinking of the greeting,
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑ Swinging’ neath the old apple tree.
This song was found in the song book, “West Virginia Song Book,’ published in 1930, for Teachers’ Institutes, Round Tables, and Other Educational Meetings.
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