Snow

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Christmastime in the Land of the Belsnickel

Here is a story that I wrote about the Belsnickel. Please don't refer to him as Santa Claus, or else I'll have to go Belsnickel on you! This was originally written as a children's story, but as the story progressed I think it became apparent that it is a little much for most children. The Belsnickel story here is an amalgamation of Belsnickel tales that I have heard all of my life. My Grandmaw Mary always said that the Belsnickel lived up on North Mountain rocks, up the mountain from where we lived. I find this incredible since there are so many other creatures that inhabit these cliffs (i.e. Old Fon, The Snollygaster, Old Saul). Many of the tidbits that you will read in my story come from different tales told by my Grandmaw Mary.

People where I am from in Germany Valley, WV, still talk about the Belsnickel and belsnickling, which occured every year around Christmastime. People dressed up in costumes and went door to door, scaring people and it was all great fun. People tried to guess who you were in the costume, and if they didn't, they had to give you a cup of hot cider or some other form of treat. While this belsnickling still occurs in some parts of Pendleton County, it doesn't in my old neighborhood, the last time anyone can remember it was in the early 1980's. My Dad talks about going belsnickling when he was a kid and remembers it fondly, he said that if people expected belsnicklers to come by, they'd make up cakes, cookies and other goodies and pass them out. Dad also recalls that some homes they visited gave them fruit (Apples & Oranges), which to him were a real treat. You have to remember, this is the dead of winter in a very harsh area, so I'm sure these belsnicklers were a sight to see, carrying lanterns and singing and hollering at the top of their lungs, celebrating a centuries old tradition from a far-off land. Keeping with the traditions of my ancestors, I proudly display my belsnickel every Christmas, and even have a huge belsnickel that tops our Christmas tree.

The following is an old photo of belsnicklers in the Bland Hills of Pendleton County. The 3rd man from the left is Boss Bland, a friend of my grandpaw Alfred Kile (whom I talked about in the post "The Ballad of Alfred and Attie"). Notice the masks at the belsnicklers feet!



========================

Christmastime in the Land of the Belsnickel
by Matthew Burns, December 2008.

There is a land
Of wilderness glades, and craggy cliffs,
Of hidden coves and ancient forests.
Home of the Belsnickel.

Among this dark forest
Under the roots of a great oak tree
There is a limestone cavern
That is completely hidden from view.

In this dank cavern, Belsnickel makes his home,
He is hairy and covered in animal pelts,
With moss in his hair and lichens on his skin.
He lives in the cave, with his loyal servant Rupert.

Rupert is donned in the same manner as Belsnickel,
Only he is even dirtier,
Blackened from the soot of many fires
And smudged with the grease of many meals.

Every year, when it gets to be about this time of year.
When the leaves have been shed, the winter winds start to howl,
And the forest creatures prepare for winter in their own way.
Belsnickel and Rupert start plotting….

Plotting mischief and mayhem, of wreaking havoc
On the intruders who live in their valley.
They regale in events of seasons past, when they scared cattle,
Carried away children, and spread fear throughout the countryside.

A favorite pastime of Belsnickel and Rupert is tossing dried leaves and moss.
Down the chimneys of the valley homesteads,
Causing flue fires that sometimes engulf the home.
And laugh as the intruders frantically try to save their belongings.

Belsnickel has also been known to feed wild onions to the dairy cows,
So their milk will taste of onions and will be unfit for use by the intruders.
But most of all, Belsnickel and Rupert await Christmas Eve.
When everyone is indoors, reveling in the merriment of the season.

That is when Belsnickel becomes most embittered for being disturbed.
He loves the Winter Solstice, but can’t even bay at the moon,
Without the intruders hunting him with their ferocious hounds.
Belsnickel reckons that if he can’t celebrate, neither will they.

Late in the night, he and Rupert go from house to house,
Prying open the windows and breaking down doors.
Seeking vengeance they will yank children from their slumber,
And beat them with switches. Rupert hopes to toss a few in his sack, as well.

At these thoughts, pure joy shows on the face of Belsnickel and Rupert,
Primitive chuckles erupt from Ruperts snaggled mouth.
They are both anxious for night to fall,
And to begin their night of havoc.

Hours later, the forest is again quiet and Belsnickel and Rupert,
Having returned to their lair, await morning.
Fulfilled with their accomplishments, they celebrate.
They are the protectors of the forest, and without them, all would be lost.

In the valley, the bewildered & fearful intruders tell their children,
“Der Belsnickel punishes you for being bad. Next year you must be better.”
Through the giant roots of the oak tree, Belsnickel glances at the moon,
And breaks into a sorrowful and celebratory howl.

Timothy

My very favorite toy when I was little was a little brown teddy bear named Timothy. I don’t recall how I ever came up with that name, but Timothy came into my life when I was about 2 years old, and I remember that I got him from a $2 sack of second-hand toys at the Rio Mall. All through my early childhood years, Timothy and I were inseparable. We’d eat together, sleep together, and play together, and it was on one of these adventures a couple of years later that Timothy got lost.

My friend Timothy.

You see, me, Jason and Timothy all went out to play with the dog in the doghouse one morning before breakfast. We lived at the old farmhouse up Johnson Holler then, and the doghouse was out on the hill from the back porch. Mom would never let us play out there alone because of the huge rattlesnakes that sometimes lay out there. But that morning while Mom was making breakfast, we all sneaked out the back door and went out the play with the dog. Well, we had a good old time rolling around with the dog and getting all dirty. Looking back, we were usually so filthy when we came back inside was probably the reason Mom didn’t want us to go out to the doghouse more often because at that time, she had to haul buckets of water up from the creek and then heat the water just to give us a bath. But that morning, we managed to get out to the doghouse without Mom seeing us. Well, when Mom hollered for us to come in, that breakfast was ready, all three of us were so filthy, and covered with flea’s, that Mom wouldn’t even let us in the back door. She said we needed a bath (and this included Timothy).

Well, we all pitched in and helped Mom carry the water up the hill from the creek (I’m sure we were more of a hindrance) and waited impatiently for the water to heat on the stove. Mom then filled the old galvanized tub that sat on the back porch and gave us a bath. She even gave Timothy a bath and hung him up by his ears on the clothesline to dry. While Timothy dried, me and Jason went in and ate our breakfast.

The back porch where we ate breakfast, and where we were given our bath in this story.

Well, in the meantime the dog got loose, probably from where we had been out playing with him and accidentally assisted in his escape, and when we came back outside after eating, Timothy was missing. Oh, I moaned and carried on something fierce, you’d have thought someone was taking a razor strop to me. We searched high and low for Timothy but couldn’t find him anywhere. I remember Jason and I walking all around the house calling out Timothy’s name like he could answer us. At that time, we didn’t realize that the dog was loose, so that thought didn’t even enter our minds. I was just sure that old Roscoe Johnson who lived up the holler had carried off Timothy and I wanted Mom to take me to his house so I could confront him. Well, of course Mom wouldn’t take me to confront Roscoe and told me that Timothy had to be there somewhere, and told me and Jason to look for him some more.

In the meantime, Mom cleaned up breakfast and put the scraps in a bowl to take out to the dog. It was then that she noticed that the dog was loose, and she ascertained that is where Timothy was too. Sure enough, Mom looked around for the dog and saw him up at the end of the garden chewing on something. It was Timothy. Poor little Timothy had been disemboweled, and was missing an eye. I saw Mom walking up in the garden towards the dog so I followed her and saw the gruesome scene firsthand. Once again there was a great weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth coming out of Johnson Holler. Timothy was dead. I had lost my best friend. What I didn’t count on was that before becoming a parent, Mom was employed as a miracle worker. She told me that she would give Timothy some surgery and that she thought he’d pull through the ordeal, but that me and Jason would have to be really quiet while she done it, like we were when she’d take us to the doctor.

Well, Mom sat down that the kitchen table and sewed and stitched and stuffed and studied, and after what seemed to be a lifetime, she announced that Timothy was going to live, but that he had lost an eye. Mom told me that she could take an eye off of another of our stuffed animals or buy one at the store, or even make Timothy an eye patch. But nope, I wanted Timothy just the way that he was. Mom told me that Timothy had to have another bath, since he had just been through surgery, but that he could play after he dried. Well after that bath, Timothy was once again hung out to dry on the clothesline, and this time I got a chair and sat up residence under the clothesline. I wasn’t going to take any chances that Timothy would get kidnapped again.

After Timothy’s recovery, we once again became inseparable in our escapades, and Timothy remained close to me for the rest of my childhood. I’d like to add that after all of these years, Timothy is still in my bedroom at Mom and Dad’s house, and we had a nice long visit over Thanksgiving. I asked Timothy if he wanted to come back to Charleston with me, but he declined saying he was really looking forward to Christmas on the mountain. That Timothy, he always was one that liked to be where the action takes place.

Happy Birthday Jason

Today, December 6, is my big brother Jason's birthday. He turns 33 today. So I thought I'd devote this post to him.


Jason and me.

For all of you who know me, you know that I like to pick on people, especially if I like them, so I thought this would be the perfect time to jab at Jason a little bit. Growing up, we were best friends and we were about as close as two burrs in a mules tail.






Jason was always tall and skinny when we were kids, and I was short and fat. I remember he used to bounce me on his lap and call me his "little fat buddy". He was pretty much the only person who could get away with that. I remember when I was his little fat buddy, he'd squeeze my fat belly and contort it from side to side. He even had a little song that went:

"Little Fat Buddy, Little Fat Buddy, Little Fat Buddy, too"

All the while keep rhythm with jiggling my fat!!! I'm sure Mom and Dad wondered if the polio hadn't affected our brains, but hey, when you grow up in the middle of nowhere, you make your own fun.






I remember how me and Jason used to love sticker books. We'd each get one every payday when we'd go to the Moorefield Foodland for groceries. Foodland had alot of good sticker books and we usually got them there, but sometimes we'd get them next door at the old Heck's store. Speaking of Heck's, I remember one time how Jason, always a bookworm, got left at Heck's. It was on one of those occassions where all of us kids were loaded up in the back of the truck and we were all supposed to keep an eye out for each other. There must have been 15 or so of us. Well, we'd all been to the Heck's store and after shopping, we all went out to the truck. As usual, Mom asked us, "Is everyone in here?", and we all hollered, "Yeah!", most likely because we were on our way to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream. Well, with that many kids, it was nigh on to impossible to keep track of all of them, which is why we were all supposed to watch out for each other. Well, I must confess, I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Jason that day, but "little fat buddy" here was wanting that ice cream, so I forgot all about him. So we pulled out of the Heck's parking lot and started up the road and my Aunt Tam hollered, "Where's Jason"? She had missed him because he usually rode on her lap. Mom stopped the truck and we all got to thinking who had seen him last, and someone remembered seeing him in the book aisle in Heck's. Well, Mom about freaked, she wheeled the truck around and tore back down the road to Heck's, scared to death. She ran in the store and searched frantically for Jason. She alerted the manager and they were gonna put the store on lockdown, that is until Mom found Jason...right there in the book aisle...reading a book! He was oblivious that we had even left him there. Mom was so upset, she took us straight home that day, and I didn't get my ice cream. So Jason, you still owe me an ice cream cone...plus interest!





I know dirt on Jason that not even he remembers, and I just may use it to blackmail him one of these days. Sure, he may know some juicy dirt on me too, but the difference here is I never was one to care what people think about me, but "Mr. Wile E. Coyote" does.






When we were growing up, when either of us would have a birthday, the other would get what Mom called a "brother present". This brother present was not as nice as the present for the birthday boy, but it was usually something that we'd been wanting. Jason and I shared everything pretty good so whatever either of us got, both of us claimed.




Jason (left), me & Dad. Jason hates this picture, so of course I have to put in on here. See, if I cared what people thought of me, I wouldn't have put this picture on here. And to think, we were the cool kids at school!!!!

Jason is only 18 months older than me, and because we are so close in age, we were meaner than striped-eyed snakes. People always said what one of us didn't think up, the other one did. I remember how we used to get away with stuff at school. He was one year ahead of me, but it was a small school so we saw each other several times a day. Whenever something happened at school, I usually got the blame because the teachers all thought that I was trouble with a capitol "T". Jason, on the other hand, was a goody two-shoes and was never suspected by anyone when something was done. But what the teachers didn't know was, Jason was just a bad, only he was more sneaking than me. If I was gonna do something, I'd just up and do it, and be damned with the consequences, but not Jason. He'd scheme and plot and finagle. Now, sometimes we did join forces and go into cohoots together to achieve many of our mischievous plans. Many's the time, he'd watch out for me while I done an ornery deed that we'd both cooked up, and then lie to protect me when the heat came a-callin'. Since he was perceived to be a "good" kid at school, the teachers would always take his word when they questioned him about me doing stuff. He got me out of a lot of trouble that way, even though we were both in it together. He'd tell the teachers, "No, it couldn't have been Matthew that done that, he was with me the whole time". They never did catch on.




I'm sure Jason's wanting to do this again right about now!


So, we had some good times growing up, and I just want to let Jason know, I'll keep my lips sealed about all the dirt as long as you keep the hush money flowing my way. Of course, the only problem with this is that Jason know's my only weakness...hot sausages. But as long as he doesn't remember that, I still have a chance at conning him. Now that I think about it, just last week Jason bought me a half-gallon jar of hot sausages, so maybe I'd better come up with a better plan. Drat, foiled again!!



Me (left) & Jason (right). Summer 2008.


So, Happy 33rd Birthday Jason, from your Millenium Twin!

Remembering

All photos are of the old farmhouse I grew up in.

"This Old House" by Loretta Lynn

Oh, if this old house could talk
What a story it would tell
It would tell about the good times
And the bad times as well
It would tell about the love that lived
And died inside these walls
And the sound of little footsteps
Runnin' up and down the hall.

Oh, if this old house could talk
It would break my heart in two
I couldn't stand to be reminded
Of all the things we used to do
There's no love in this old house no more
So I got it up for sale
Why, if this old house could talk
What a story it could tell.

Oh, if this old house could talk
I know what it would say,
I'm as lonesome as you are
And I feel more empty every day
Well, I even miss the babies
Who built me up to feel this way
Why, if this old house could talk
Lord, I know what it would say.

If this old house could talk
What a story it would tell
We built this home together
And with love we drove each nail
Take me in your arms and hold me
'Cause we've been apart too long
Why if this old house could talk
All it would say is welcome home.

A Change in the Wind

This is my first attempt at a children's poem. I was inspired to write this when I was walking through the woods last week and saw this huge downed tree, nearly rotted away to where it was once again completely returned to the Earth. I was drawn back to this spot on two separate days last week, there was just something about it. Let me know what you all think of the poem which I titled, "A Change in the Wind".





A Change in the Wind
December 2, 2008


The forest was filled with excitement,
One hot, stormy night in July,
None could have known what would happen,
No way to know what would transpire.

The squirrels all scurried for safety,
With fear raging in their eyes,
When the storm rolled up the valley,
And lighting flashed bright in the sky.

The wind whipped its way through the forest,
And a thunderbolts burst from the clouds,
Suddenly there was a great crash,
That drowned out all other sounds.

The foxes stopped running for shelter,
As the Earth shook for quite a long spell,
And for a moment the world stopped turning,
That night the forest giant fell.

A Week On The Mountain

I’m back from the mountain. I had a pretty good time visiting my family, and traipsing around my old haunts. I even had time to get in a couple of days deer hunting. I saw lots of deer but refused to shoot one where I’d have to drag it for a mile or so, so I reckon you could say I am a little too picky to be a good hunter!
The old farm.

On Monday and Tuesday, Dad and I went out hunting. Monday we walked all over the old farm and seen how the old place is faring now that it sits vacant, and on Tuesday it snowed and snowed and snowed. It really was blizzard like conditions so we just holed up by a cedar stand and tried to wait out the storm, and hoped that some unwary deer would walk out to us. Well, the storm didn’t pass so I decided to just walked around and take some photos. I figured that even deer wouldn’t be out in that kind of weather.




Above: Scenes from walking around the farm just as it began to snow.

After freezing my butt on Tuesday, I decided not to go hunting on Wednesday and figured I’d spend it with my family. My dad got off work at noon on Wednesday so we all loaded up in the car and went to the Rio Mall in Hampshire County. Rio Mall is really a roadside junk store that we’ve been going to for as long as I can remember. They used to have really cool bags of toys in garbage bags. We called the bags “Rio Junk”, and we’d always buy several bags on every trip. The bags cost $2 each, and I remember many toys of my childhood came from bags of Rio Junk. Sadly, Rio Mall doesn’t sell bags of toys anymore, but they do have a pretty neat operation going on there. The port-a-potty alone is worth the trip!!! Whew, that is a story in and of itself!!!!



The farm on Thanksgiving Day. It was a clear, crisp day.

On Thanksgiving Day my Mom done what she does best…try to fatten us up! She started cooking at the break of day, and Dad and I went hunting for a few hours. When we got home in the mid-afternoon, Mom was just finishing up her annual feast. We had roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, sweet potatoes, stuffing, homemade rolls, gravy, cranberry sauce, and sauerkraut, which is a tradition carried over from my German ancestors. For dessert we had pumpkin pies, cherry pies, chocolate cakes, chocolate pies, and veritable gallons of homemade whipped cream. As Dad says, “You can never have too much whipped cream.” We ate until we were as full as ticks, and then ate some more. We just laid around the house for most of the day but around dark, Dad and I went out and split some wood. The exercise was really good to help settle all of that food…and to build up an appetite for round #2!

My brother had to go home on Friday so we decided to do a little Black Friday shopping, Burns style. We shopped at every Goodwill store between Pendleton County and Morgantown, which was I believe 7 stores. It was an all day event, and I was quite done with the whole escapade after the first stop! We got to Morgantown about 7pm, and then I toured the house that my brother just bought. Mom, Dad and I got home at about midnight!



I sat here and watched several deer walk past.

On Saturday I just laid around the house and talked to Mom. When Dad got home from work, we once again hit the wood pile and split some wood. I actually like splitting wood, there’s just something about looking at the color and grain of the wood that is so soothing. Plus, it gave Dad and I some time to catch up on times past, like how when I was a teenager Dad gave me the nickname of “Lightning”. This was because when splitting wood, I never hit in the same place twice!!! Well, in case anyone is wondering, “Lightning” was back in on the mountain last week, but I still managed to split a cord of wood, catch up with the happenings of the family, and to visit that land that I still call home.