The Snow Falls

Around two o'clock this afternoon, the snow started.

Within an hour it was a whiteout; I couldn't even see across the road. Forecast is for a foot or more—the biggest snowfall of the decade.

We watered earlier this afternoon and made sure the horses had hay. When I went out to feed at four, the snow was a couple inches deep and it was mixed with ice or sleet. After I fed the barn cats, I hollered for the horses, who were in the front pasture. Melody came first at a run.

She was snow-encrusted. In the picture below, she looks like an Appaloosa, not a Tennessee Walker.

Before long, I saw Cupcake on her way in.

As Cupcake got closer to the run-in shed, she picked up speed. She was even more snow-covered than Melody.

After I fed the dogs, I went back to clean the horses. It took me a while to curry snow off them.  But all the outside critters were fed and they all have shelter.

The horse shed is deeply bedded in shaving, although the horses don't mind staying out. The barn cats will nest together in the tractor shed, and the dogs will pile into their "dog stall." All the house cats show no desire to go out. They—and I—want to stay warm.

A few things today warmed my heart. One was a story in today's Franklin News-Post about my up-coming book, Ferradiddledumday.

Another was a mention of my book on Leslie Shelor's blog, At the Top of Squirrel Spur,  and a review on her review page, Greenberry House Reviews: Here's what Leslie said:

Becky Mushko is my favorite local writer. Several years ago I reviewed some of her earlier books for another project, and I've been keeping up with her through her blog. She is witty and clever and has a lively sense of humor. Many of her books are historical in nature and read like fictional biographies of people in our area. Becky captures the sense of place that runs deep in the hearts of mountain people.

Ferradiddledumday is my favorite of her books so far. An Appalachian retelling of the fairy tale favorite Rumplestiltskin, Ferrradiddledumday is set in the Blue Ridge Mountains, on a subsistence farm sometime in the past. Gillie, the young heroine, must come up with a way to help her father save the farm. When she's approached by a magical little stranger, she agrees to his terms when he says he can help her because she just can't imagine ever leaving her beautiful Blue Ridge Mountain home.

Becky makes capturing the flavor and ancient magic of the Blue Ridge seem easy in her flowing prose. Walking in the woods in these old mountains on a silent summer day, it's easy to imagine that a fairy might lurk in the deep shadows of a laurel thicket, or something unknown might be watching from a tumble of rocks. Ferrradiddledumday's descriptions portray those feelings and set the scene for a magic tale that is timeless. Although this is an original book, the style is very much in the tradition of mountain storytelling such as The Jack Tales. There are few things more important to mountain people than a sense of story.

I also loved the illustrations by Bruce Rae. They are beautiful and convey the sense of the story and the mountains. I was particularly charmed by the illustrations that include the spinning wheel that Gillie uses. It is a Great Wheel, sometimes called a wool wheel, with a spindle (if Becky ever does Sleeping Beauty this is the wheel she would use) rather than a flyer. This would have been the wheel used in this area at a certain point in time for spinning wool, and the fact that it is shown outdoors or in an outbuilding while used is also correct. Mountain houses were small back in the day, with little room for a large spinning wheel. In many cases an entire room of the house could be dedicated to the wheel or loom. While some people used a flax wheel for spinning wool, it makes sense that Gillie would have had a Great Wheel.

I love this book and hope to entice the author to allow me to sell it here at my shop. So watch for an update that shows a link if she agrees!

Of course I agree! She'll have to contact the distributor to actually get the books, though. Maybe I can visit her shop this spring or summer for a signing.

Meanwhile, in the midst of this snow, spring seems a long way off.

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