If you don't like the weather, just wait a while. That used to be what the old timers would say around these mountains, since things usually change pretty often on your average week—and sometimes even several times in a single day.

After putting out a column about unusually cold and wet weather, we've had a few days of unusually hot and humid weather. Well, at least it was unusual compared to what we've seen thus far this year.

Despite the clear weather, I haven't done any meaningful work in over a week, partly because I've been so busy and partly for no reason other than I didn't feel like it. In my defense, most of my opportunities have taken place late in the evenings and there comes a time when everyone needs a break. If I'm already doing something at 7 p.m., I might finish, but it's awful hard to get started that late. Even so, I'm hoping to spend an evening or two this week getting a few simple tasks done. I finally finished the bedroom that I had been remodeling, leaving only one more room to go and some vinyl siding to finish before I can get started on firewood.

Last weekend was my turn to cover events and I spent most of the day on Saturday taking pictures on Blue Ridge Parkway, on what has turned into somewhat of an annual pilgrimage to Brinegar Cabin. I have been on call for the event for the past two or three years.

Even though it is technically a work assignment, I always enjoy going there and I always seem to learn something every year. But mostly, I gain a greater appreciation for the hard work and effort that it took for people to survive here in these mountains in years gone by. The amount of work they did in a single season would put most of us to shame.

From living off dried foods and walking—or riding on horseback, for the more affluent—for miles to get to town to the daily drudgery of farming rocky soil and clearing forest land to plant, mountain people had it hard. They also had to make their own clothing, shoes and cloth. The demonstrations at the cabin show the methods used to spin wool and flax into yarn that was then put on looms and woven into cloth that could then be sewn into clothing. The flax went from seed to plant to loom, all on the farm.

Most people had two changes of clothes back then—one for working and the other for Sundays. I can hardly imagine wearing the same sweaty clothes every day for a week, especially considering that there was no running water or inside toilet to enjoy. According to what I learned at the event, it took about an hour and a half of steady churning to make a cake of butter and a bucket of fresh buttermilk.

Without refrigeration, folks were left with few options for storing food, either canning or drying. Items could be kept somewhat cool in the spring house, but not to the temperatures that would be needed for long term storage. Cans and lids for canning would have been expensive and hard to come by, meaning that people would dry many foods. Leather britches (dried pole beans), apples, pears, peaches, squash, zucchini and pumpkin were some of the examples on display. Salted pork was easy to store and people hung up dried fruits and vegetables threaded through with string in windows and on nails around the house. I suppose keeping them off the floor helped prevent rodents from finding them.

As I try to imagine daily life for people who had to make everything for themselves, without the aid of even nails in many instances, my respect for their knowledge and ability continues to grow.

The "Foxfire" books helped record some of that way of life, but sadly, it is likely extinct at this point in history. Outhouses and wood cookstoves, crocks full of kraut and pickled beans, steam and heat rising from the kitchen as mason jars of harvested vegetables are put away for winter—these scenes I have seen in my own lifetime. As I've pointed out many times, we had an outhouse when I was young and we also had big gardens and farm animals to care for. We also had to carry water for some time from an old springhouse, which was a real chore. I can't remember why we were doing that, but it may have been because of a problem with the well. My grandmother had gravity-fed running water—cold only—in the kitchen sink, up until she died.

Compared to the Brinegars, we were quite modern. We had electric lights, modern windows and automobiles to get back and forth in. We also had fancy store-bought clothes to wear and store-bought shoes, too. We burned coal in the stove and it was delivered to the house in a big truck. The old timers would have thought we had it easy.

Brinegar Cabin will likely be the closest my children ever get to seeing way those before us lived. Even my little slice of the 'rustic' life was little more than a brief taste of the real thing. While some 'city folk' called our forefathers "ignorant hillbillies," few of those who looked down on them would have made it through even one winter in a cabin atop the Blue Ridge.
 

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