Showing Your Love Today, and Always

Blood dripped from his fingertips into the rain-soaked earth. Even though the land couldn’t accept another drop of rain, it seemed hungry for the life-blood-offering the man unknowingly gave. I watched hypnotized as drops landed in the mud with a soundless splat. The mire absorbed the red splatter, like quicksand devouring a car, until no trace remained, not a single drop to remind me of this man’s wound.

Everyone I encountered after the Kentucky flood bore scars, whether physical, or emotional.

It seemed this land was hungry for blood, having lost its battle with Mother Nature, who had hurled a wall of water, cars, trees, homes, and beloved animals down a narrow creek that-on any other day- wouldn’t be three feet deep. Imagine for a moment, mattresses wrapped around power lines. That’s how high the wall of water was and why I can still barely talk about the people I met there. God bless them. God bless them all !!

The man’s injured hand hung loose at his side as he surveyed what remained of his belongings. Only nothing remained. The lack of personal items was evident in the empty house he once called home; a royal blue structure with doors and windows flung open in a feeble attempt to dry the interior of the unsalvageable building. I noticed the furnishings stacked neatly at the street: sofa, bed, refrigerator.

“Lost all my chickens.” He glanced around the fenced in yard, hopeful for survivors.

That one sentence encapsulated a deep loss for both the man, and the community. Even the roughest, toughest Appalachian holds a deep affection for poultry. Hill folk work in harmony with their feathered friends. Tossing them table scraps, and collecting their offered eggs, calling them by name; hugging the little darlings when no one is watching.

I arrived two days after the flood waters subsided. FEMA hadn’t yet arrived. It was hades-hot and the need for medical supplies, food, and water was critical. The few remaining vehicles not washed away were heavily loaded with supplies and ran non-stop as far as they could into the mountains, stopping only when Mother Nature cut a swath across the road. Here the trucks unloaded into privately-owned 4-wheelers that ran non stop delivering supplies.

The People of Kaintuck

It would be almost 10 days before the roads were clear and FEMA arrived. Some areas didn’t regain power for 6 weeks. These ladies, and that little one in the fuchsia shirt, weathered the storm while inside their home. Like many living in rural Appalachia, they live in a dead-zone with no cell coverage. Even if they had received notice to evacuate, there was no time, and no safe-way to cross the bridge. So they prayed, as water inched higher and higher until it was waist-high in their home and the noise of trees crashing down around them became unbearable. They are still homeless today.

A week later, I stood at the kitchen sink slicing a juicy ripe summertime tomato. Seeking the comfort only a tomato sandwich can bring. I had returned from Whitesburg Kentucky and was processing what I’d seen, what Mother Nature in her rage, did to people who were already struggling to make ends meet. There are some things in life I don’t understand, and at the top of my list is why do bad things happen to good people?

I readied the slices of tomato on the bread then tipped the cutting board to drain like I had done countless times before. As the seeds inched toward the sink my brain shouted, “What are you doing? Those seeds are life for the people of Kentucky. Why are you wasting them?”

Appalachians value heritage varieties of beans, corn, squash, and of course, tomatoes. As I watched the seeds slide toward the drain I realized the people I’d met the week before lost not only their homes, they lost a way to feed themselves. In a panic, I used my bare hands to scoop the seeds, while chastising myself: “Renea, you must do better A seed that is of little consequence to you will feed one of the families you just met!”

And thus began a new mission; one you are welcome to join, because the cause truly is worthy. I am collecting seeds to replenish what Mother Nature took and I am inviting (begging) you to help.

Back in Kentucky, flood waters wiped out four libraries, destroying every single book. The moment I became conscious of my seed-wasting, my heart knew the Kentucky folk had also lost their seed libraries. I reached out to the Regional Office and Alita Vogel confirmed my fears. All the books were destroyed and would need replacing, as would the seed lending libraries, if there was enough money. And we all know how narrow the margins are when working with insurance companies.

I reached out to Swain County High School Carpentry Instructor Derek Oetting. I’ve been hearing about these carpentry students at my former high School. Surely if I explained the urgent need, these students would help. And did they ever. Take a look at these remarkable seed storage boxes !

This is where you come in. We need to fill these boxes with seeds, any variety you wish to donate. Those seed catalogs have arrived, bringing with it a fever (ok, maybe it’s just me). Could you order a couple extra packets, or pick up an extra packet while in the store? Do you have a heritage variety you’d love to share? Please do ! This spring I will make a trip to Kentucky to deliver the seed catalogs for the lending library. I welcome donations to me directly, or to the District Office at the address below. I’ll bring y’all long with me by documenting the trip on my social media page and blog.

Perhaps seeds “aren’t your thing,” Perhaps you are a closed book hoarder (surely, I am not alone). If so, the public library in Whitesburg can accept donations and will shelve them accordingly. Children’s books, non-fiction, fiction. Whatever tugs at your heart is exactly what you should give.

Would you consider joining me? Together, we can give our best, and then some to our Appalachian friends.

Alita Vogel Letcher County Public Library District  220 Main Street Whitesburg, KY 41858

Renea Winchester 60 Almond School Road Bryson City NC 28713

Renea Winchester is passionate about preserving seeds and capturing human interest stories. She in an international author who has penned multiple works of nonfiction and fiction. Her recipe booklet, Bryson City Recipes, just released and is available exclusively on Amazon.

Thoughts on Invisibility

During my recent television interview with Frank Murphy he said, “You write about the unseen people of Appalachia. Does that include you?”

The question brought home the realization that I am unseen. Having lived my life as the shortest person in school, and the absolute last to be selected for any sport activity, I can say with certainty I have been unseen most of my life.

I spent years building a platform as a non-fiction author and just as I transitioned to fiction, the pandemic hit. The timing wasn’t ideal, was it?  With more than 2 million new books released last year, the market is saturated. Readers are no longer locked down, they are now traveling, eating out, living their lives! Yay!

But what about my debut novel, Outbound Train? In order to get the Parker women’s story into the hands of readers, I must procure a seat at an already crowded table filled with heavy hitting authors such as Wiley Cash, David Joy and Ron Rash, just to name a few from my region.

Enter divine intervention and a single reader.  As long as I have breath, I will never stop praising readers.

BJ discovered Outbound Train in the “Local Author” section of the Asheville Barnes and Noble. Being featured in a store a hundred miles from my home just doesn’t happen. I suspect B&N opted to include my book after reading the Book Feature of Outbound Train in The Laurel of Asheville , or someone heard the delightful interview with Landis Wade, or the book review by the incomparable Dannye Romine Powell of the Charlotte Observer. Perhaps a book fairy whispered my name someone’s ear. Someone, somewhere, gave Outbound Train a chance, and because of that single moment, I can share my story.

BJ read Outbound Train and fell in love with the Parker women. Set in the 70s when textile manufacturing was king throughout the south, Outbound Train tells of the Hardscrabble life of three women. Women who encourage each other. Women who, in their own way, make a difference in their community. BJ would later tell me she, “felt like she was in Bryson City,” and that she “could see the buildings and the characters clearly.”

BJ, that delightful difference-making-reader, nominated me to receive a creative writing award. Now BJ could have closed Outbound Train and picked up another book in her stack; but she didn’t. She nominated me for an award. My, how the world has changed. Today’s youth, hungry to be seen, want to be “social media influencers,” with very little face-to-face interaction. However, the strongest relationships occur when women come together as we did recently when I attended the “She Elevates the World” convention. I didn’t know a soul, not even BJ, who nominated Outbound Train.

And that’s what makes this award for creative writing special. I didn’t pay to enter a contest. I didn’t know anyone on the selection committee. I’ve never traveled to Winston Salem, the sight of the conference ! The Parker women won this award outright and they are worthy. I merely penned their story and prayed for a publisher. The publisher came by way of Claire Fullerton who introduced me to Eva Marie Everson, acquisition agent.

Am I the only one seeing a pattern here? Women helping women.

These are active women who aren’t spending the day on social media. Women like Patricia who introduced herself by saying, “I’m boots on the ground.”

We need more women like Patricia, and BJ, and the ladies whose names I can’t remember from the convention because there were so many at the signing table I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t yet come down from the mountaintop experience and I struggle to explain how being with these women truly quenched my parched soul. I felt like I was coming home to a room full of sisters I’d been separated from for most of my life. I loved them all and could have spent days being around their light and positivity. It is these lovelies who will tell their local library to stock Outbound Train so those who haven’t the money to buy books can read about the Parker women. It’s these lovelies who tell book clubs about Barbara, Carole Anne, and the loveable Pearlene Parker, and then schedule zoom meetings with me so we can chat about books. Readers who follow me on Goodreads and leave reviews. These are the difference makers who help me get on podcasts, radio interviews, and public broadcasting segments. They give, generously, of their time, to me, an invisible author. The more readers talk about the Parker women, the less invisible they are.

These women give, not because I ask them to, but because they know someone like Barbara, who is scratching and clawing her way through life while dreaming of something better. Perhaps they once peered out the window like Carole Anne with a dream of having something more. Or maybe they mixed up a cake to sell for extra money like Pearlene Parker. Regardless of the reason, I am here solely because readers have answered the call on their heart and shouted from the mountaintop, Let me tell you about Outbound Train. As always, it is the readers who make sure I remain visible, and for them, I am eternally grateful.

And so, with humility, respect, and more than a few tears, I bow to the soul sisters, the difference makers, the women who refused to give up, the encouragers, the carriers, those who lift us up when we stumble. I see you my sister and I love you. I am not worthy of this honor you have given me and so I accept it in the name of all the women who paved the way for us. They are our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, sisters, and precious friends. We see you and we honor you today, and always.

The Difference Makers

Help Support Literacy, and Come See me in Waynesville, NC: My next stop on the “Unseen Author Tour” will raise money for a cause near to my heart, literacy.  Join me at 91 Lakeshore Dr. Lake Junaluska, May 19th for dinner and a discussion about books. Click the link below for more information. I would love to see you. An Evening with Author Renea Winchester | Facebook

Welcome Fall: Here’s What I’m Reading

Hello Beautiful Readers,
Fall is almost here- ready or not- tis the season for pumpkin-spice everything. But in the Western North Carolina Mountains, we prefer apple cider and Barber’s Orchard in Waynesville, NC is my go-to place. Try a delicious cinnamon-sugar apple doughnut while you’re there. You’ll thank me later.
Now that we’re all hungry, I’d like to share what I’m reading this month:

The Forever Wish of Middy Sweet:

No one delivers a story quite like Terry Kay. The Forever Wish of Middy Sweet is a story of two people who have known each other since high school. After graduation, Middy Sweet and Luke Mercer go their separate ways, only to have fate bring them back together 50 years later.
Kay masterfully lures readers into this story in a way only a true romantic can. Recently widowed Middy is determined to reunite with Luke, who is also alone at this point in his life. Author, Terry Kay, has answered that nagging question many people have about their first loves . . . if given the opportunity would I reunite with my first love after so many years have passed?

Exciting News about Outbound Train
Many readers know my passion for literacy runs deep. I am a strong supporter of libraries and literary events. After volunteering with the phenomenal Rose Glen Literary Festival for years, the Board extended an invitation for me to be Keynote Speaker this February. I’m still pinching myself.
Years ago, members of the literary community backed this event which has grown annually. It is easily my favorite reader’s festival. As you can tell in the photo, this event is a READER’S dream. (For fun, see if you can find me in the photo by clicking this link). 
I can’t wait to tell everyone about Outbound Train and the strong women who come to life on the pages. Save the date. Come see me at Rose Glen. I will speak during the luncheon. Tickets are required for the luncheon. And, there are some amazing door prizes. This year, the Friends of the Library will decorate tables with books available for purchase. Of course, Outbound Train, will be available as will dozens of other authors.

Listen to Charlotte Reader’s Podcast: 

On October 16, Charlotte Reader’s Podcast will feature Outbound Train. 
Click here to be notified when the podcast goes live.

  
Thank You Readers:

A heartfelt thank you to every reader who left a review for Outbound Train on Goodreads and Amazon. A review breathes life into this novel. Many people base purchasing decisions on reviews, which is one of many reasons every reader opinion counts. Reviews also show publishers I have an established audience. If you left a review, thank you for your time. If you haven’t, I NEED YOU.

Outbound Train is available wherever books are sold. If you haven’t purchased a copy, here are some helpful links:
Your local Independent Bookseller can order Outbound Train at your request.
Ordering from this link donates a portion of all sales to an Indie Bookseller
Indie Bookseller: https://bookshop.org/shop/rwinchester
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1645262413/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0
Direct from Publisher https://shoplpc.com/renea-winchester/
From Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/search/?query=reneaa%20winchester%20Outbound%20Train
From Barnes and Noble  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/outbound-train-renea-winchester/1136262875

Printing Bookmarks for Outbound Train: Part II, by Renea Winchester

If you’re new to my blog please read part one of this story here. 

It wasn’t enough to sew the bookmarks, I quickly realized they missed something crucial, a way of identifying the book title. So I enlisted the help of Jeff Marley, knower of all things Heritage Arts. The Heritage Arts Center -located in Bryson City, North Carolina on Southwestern Community College’s Swain Campus- is filled with hidden resources. Known for housing a phenomenal pottery studio, many locals do not realize the Heritage Arts Center also offers printmaking classes. Today I’m pleased to write about one of the printing presses located there, the Challenge Proof Press.

Jeff took one look at my sewn-bookmark and in less than a minute sketched a prototype on a scrap piece of paper. His concept blew anything I could imagine off-world. We would print a tag complete with custom-blended ink.

Y’all !

Individual Letters are selected from California Job Cases

Just the thought of touching a printing press gave me chills. The Heritage Arts Center houses two rolling print presses circa 1960s. Think back to when newspapers (and basically ALL forms of printed communication) were first “laid out” by teams of typesetters who literally selected every single letter and formed every single word which they “set” in the confines of a composing stick creating words BACKWARDS, before sending to press.

Jeff, who is wise in the ways of typesetting quickly realized the process overwhelmed me. I didn’t even know which font to select from the type case. The Heritage Arts Center has many California Job Cases filled with a variety of fonts including the Cherokee language. Read about the Cherokee Phoenix Newspaper here. Jeff grabbed several trays and placed them on the desk, a process that in-and-of-itself made me nervous because if the trays dropped, catastrophe!

After determining the best font, we used a California Job Case sheet, a key-chart that helps a modern-day typesetter locate appropriate letters within the tray.

Behold: Outbound Train by Renea Winchester

With the wording NIART DNUOBTUO (Outbound Train) placed, I stepped aside and watched Jeff’s knowledge of the press began to shine. One simply can’t just place the letters onto the metal bed, you must secure them using wooden blocks, and in this case, wedge tiny slivers of metal (leading spacers) in place, and then secure everything with a tool. Trust me, when the mighty ink roller presses paper across those metal letters, the letters must hold.

Jeff Blending the Ink

God gifts some folk with an eye for color. Those who don’t need a color wheel to blend the absolute perfect shade. Jeff has that gift. After we talked about an ink color, Jeff scooped two globs from a jar and began blending. Friends, here is where I got a little worried. To my untrained eye, I thought the ink would be dark as pitch. There was a heap of black on the blending table, but like a baker making bread, Jeff folded the ink, pressed and turned it, working it like dough until the color was nothing short of perfection.

I almost cried.

Paper Cutting

Relying again upon his expertise, Jeff selected the appropriate-weighted paper which would accept the ink. We then cut the cards using a paper cutter weighing about 400-500 pounds. The blade sliced the paper like butter.

Then he applied ink to the press, flipped the switch and I watched ink disperse evenly

The Press Distributing Ink

across the rollers. Soon, the silver rollers took on the rich maroon color. Apologies for the blurry image, there are a lot of moving parts in a printing press.

With the lettering and blocks in place, and the rollers ink ready, it was time to feed paper through the rollers. Falling into a rhythm, one must press a foot pedal with their left foot, feed paper under the clip, crank the roller toward the right, watch the machine press ink onto the paper, retrieve the finished product, and crank the roller back in place ready for another card. This techniques is repeated and quickly comes as easily as breathing.

Friends, this process is nothing short of sacred. Kinkos or Vista Print cannot, ever, compare.

We collected the tags, placed them on drying racks and as you can see, attached to the bookmarks, they are complete and especially lovely with the train “charms” gifted to me by a fantastic reader.

 

I don’t think it’s possible for me to press any more love into a handmade bookmark, do you?

Firefly Southern Fiction will release  Outbound Train, April 1, 2020. Those who pre-order through their bookstore, or medium of choice, will receive a bookmark by emailing their receipt to reneawrites (@) gmail.com. Remember to remove the parenthesis (  ) when sending the email. It is placed here to prevent my email from being spammed.

 

Keeping My Hands Busy while waiting for the Release of my Novel.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I decided to sew bookmarks for the launch of my debut novel, Outbound Train, I only know it felt right to honor the women in my life, those who molded me and set before me an incredible work ethic to follow. Not so long ago women across this country worked in manufacturing plants. This blue collar work wasn’t shameful; having a job in a manufacturing plant was actually something to be proud of. Truth-be-told most of us don’t have to trace our roots very far to find a link to manufacturing.

After creating a Facebook Group for readers who volunteered to help spread the word about my novel, I wanted to offer a gift, a token of my appreciation because I know the success of Outbound Train depends on readers telling other readers, who in turn tell other readers about the book. A personal book recommendation is always best. I depend on you (yes YOU) telling someone about my book. Otherwise, I will have wasted my time.

Caveat: I am no seamstress. There’s no way I could support myself, or a family, sewing articles of clothing all day every day. My home economics teacher, Ms. Bradley, could testify to this fact. Renea is NO seamstress.

But bookmarks are easy . . . . right?

One simply cuts two same-shaped pieces of fabric, zips the pieces under the sewing machine foot, turns the fabric pretty-side out and viola’, a handmade bookmark. Or, even better, keep the sewing machine in the craft room and just glue fabric strips to pieces of cardboard for instant bookmarks.

Not so fast.

To truly honor the women of my novel I needed to sew as they would have. I needed to piece together cast-aside items. With the bookmarks, I used remnants and old blue jeans. For you see, “make-do” women waste nothing. As my friend Bren McClain once told me, “The women before us could make a whole lot of something out of nothing.”

Want to read a bit more about my debut novel? Visit Goodreads

Rifling through Mom’s sewing room, I found suitable fabric which I paired with donated blue jeans from friends. Then a reader mailed more fabric and I was in business. My thread supply came courtesy of my precious “other mother,” Katherine Nordling, whose daughter gifted me with enough thread to sew bookmarks right up until the rapture.

The Concept

The design concept came from Pinterest. That time-sucking website creative types use for inspiration and while my finished product was in no way similar to the concept, as I pieced together the remnants a feeling of contentment took hold.

The machine, however, refused to cooperate. It is my granny’s machine (yes, we called her Granny), an Appalachian title for a woman whose hands were never idle. The machine hates me. It senses I’m an impostor, clueless about appropriate tension setting and the correct thread to pair with fabric.

Many times, and I do mean, many-MANY times, the thread “gonged up” in the area between bobbin and needle.

Granny’s sewing machine hates me !

The machine seemed to sense the exact moment when I had established a rhythm and then BAM . . . with a groan, it seized up tight.

Friends, I wanted to give up. Wanted to upload an image to Vista Print. I wanted to take the easy road, the fast track and print a couple hundred bookmarks for $39.99 all with ZERO effort on my part.

But Bryson City women, especially those in Outbound Train, don’t quit when things get hard. No my friends, they level a steely gaze. They do not flinch. They press on. They overcome.

And so I shall keep sewing, keep praying the machine cooperates, and hope I have what it takes to finish strong, and that my fantastic readers (readers like you) will help spread the word about my debut novel. I am also busy working on PR. Reaching out to bloggers, freelance writers, book clubs, readers and influencers. Please send love, well-wishes, and referrals of anyone who can help spread the word about Outbound Train.

Bookmarks waiting for tags, and ribbon

This is what I have sewn so far. They are imperfect with crooked lines and frayed edges, but I think my people are proud.

Firefly Southern Fiction will release Outbound Train April 1, 2020, but you can PRE-ORDER directly from them now by clicking this link. If you order from them, and send me an email with a snapshot of the receipt I will mail a bookmark to you. (Don’t forget to include your mailing address). This offer is only while supplies last, as I mentioned, I’m no production seamstress.

Stay Tuned for Part Two of Making the Bookmark which I will post in February. Thank you for your support, and for reading.

Renea Winchester is an award-winning non-fiction author.  Outbound Train is her first novel.

Grow your own craft Beads: Indian Corn Beads, Rosary Beads, Job’s Tears, Coix lacryma- jobi

Did you know you can grow your own beads? Before I tell you how, I shall first begin this post by paying homage to those who have suffered and endured insurmountable loss.

Cherokee Legend of the Corn Bead

Many years ago during the 1830’s, the Real People, as the Cherokee call themselves, were rounded up as cattle. They were forced to leave their homeland and walk west to a new land. They cried tears of sorrow and grief and hopelessness. Where their tears hit the ground, a plant sprung up. The seeds look like tears and their color is the color of grief.

Beads ripening. Copyright, Renea Winchester, all rights reserved.

Today, the Real People wear the seeds in necklaces, medallions, and earrings in memory of the Trail of Tears.

Technically, the botanical name is Coix lacryma- jobi and before we progress further, please don’t use Google as your guide when it comes to Corn Beads (Job’s Tears). The plant I write about is not the same as grown in India, or Asia which used as grain. The variety grown as a cereal crop is called Coix lacryma ma-yuen. That particular variety is white and pale brown with a groove on one end.

We grow a different kind here in Appalachia. Corn Beads are rock-hard and the seeds endure multiple color changes, from white to yellow, then pale green, dark brown laced with a variety of colors and finally, when ready to use, the bead is gray. Indian Corn Beads are a vital part of Appalachian and Native American Heritage.

Indian Corn Beads growing with our corn meal corn (back) Copyright Renea Winchester, All rights reserved.

 

While the Cherokee, and other Native American tribes, refer to them as “corn beads,” others call the seeds “Rosary Beads,” or “Job’s Tears.” According to legend, the name “Job’s Tears” was given to the plant because of the many tears Job (yes, the one in the Bible) shed. Their tear-drop shape, and hard shiny exterior shell resemble human tears and serve as a reminder of suffering, sorrow, and redemption.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta used a rosary made of Job’s Tears for her personal prayers.  The fruit of Job’s Tears has been used in jewelry since before Christ. Growing as its maker intended, each seed grows with a perfect hole that runs through it making it easy to string, and feed wire through. Seeds of Job’s Tears are used for jewelry, basket making, and gourd decorating, just for starters. The beads are highly prized by designer jewelers.

According to Richard Bauman’s Differential Identify and the Social Base of Folklore, Rosaries made from Job’s Tears involve the union of the sacred and the profane and, “illustrate and reinforce kindship bonds.” It is also said that there is an emotional bond between the owner of the rosary and the maker of the rosary. While I have no experience with that bond, today I would like to speak about the grower’s bond.

I love many things about this plant. It is pollinated by those little precious honey bees,

Busy pollinator, Copyright Renea Winchester, All Rights Reserved

and is a member of the grass family. Jobi (the nickname I give it) grows as tall as corn, hence name, “corn bead”, with bunching stalks that become rougher as the season progresses. One must harvest with care, because the leaves slice through tender skin.  One should also be on the lookout for stinging packsaddle insects who love to hide beneath the leaves.

Despite planting them the appropriate length apart, the Jobi growing here at Butterfly Cove seems to need the touch of its sister in order to thrive. Foliage arches outward, reaching-if you will- toward a brother or sister, touching it when the wind blows, whispering secrets.

When a farmer stands amidst rows of Jobi and listens, truly listens, she can hear the plant whisper, “I will heal you if are willing.” Picking the seeds is a Holy experience for the senses. Preferring to harvest when they are the color of dark roast coffee, I relish the feel of slick seeds against my hands that have grown rough from summer field work. Ripe seeds are slick and detach easily from stem, whereas fruit that holds fast needs more time to mature. Many farmers harvest only gray seeds, but I prefer picking all season as the fruit matures, building a relationship with them as I visit daily. Typically, after a long day at work I can be found “in the tear patch,” depositing them into a glass jar, smiling as they ping against the glass.

I have three varieties that ripen to the same gray color, but range in heights of a foot to six feet tall. At times it seems that the more I pick the more the plant offers, even when a drought descends upon the land. Not much is known about the three varieties, which is why I and a colleague are trying to isolate each by plant size while documenting how it grows and produces. As we save seeds from year-to-year we should have true seed stock in three years for those who wish to grow a more compact variety of Job’s Tears but may not exactly have the garden space like I do.

Even after a farmer believes she has picked all of the cascading grouping of seeds, there are more. Hiding in the crevices of the stalks, emerging from folds of green leaves, waiting at knee-length lower than the rest. More and more seeds, giggling like children saying, “find me if you can.”

Regardless of name, I call myself blessed to grow such a significant crop. Friends, it is an honor to have a heritage plant of historic, and spiritual, significance growing at Butterfly Cove.

If you are an artist looking for beads, mine are available in packs of 60 for $ 15.00

Indian Corn Beads, Rosary Beads, Job’s Tears, Coix lacryma- jobi in various phases of drying

Or, if you would like to try your hand growing your own, 12 seeds for $5.00 shipping included. Please note the planting seeds are white and are not suitable for craft purposes.

Feel free to leave a comment, or order through my website at http://www.butterflycovebotanicals.com

Used by Native Americans for necklaces, and artisans who create Rosaries, these seeds play an important role in Native American, Appalachian, and Spiritual heritage. Sustainably grown. Ethically harvested. Never sprayed.

Visit my website here to order beads for craft projects and jewelry making.

Renea Winchester is an award-winning author. Firefly Southern Fiction will release her debut novel, Outbound Train, in April 2020. All photos on this blog are subject to copyright and may not be reproduced without expressed written permission of Renea Winchester. 

 

 

My wish for you . . . Peace

Dear Readers,

We enter this Holiday Season living in a world full of turmoil. Many are stressed, worried, and at wit’s end. Some may long to run away, far, far away where no one could ever find them. To a place where cellphone coverage can’t reach, a place where first-world-troubles melt away.

Do you ever feel like running away?

I know I do.

And I have.

I have a special place that I visit from time to time, my people’s place. A place that once sustained vibrant communities, where laughter danced among the tree limbs as children played in the forest. A place where folk felt safe and loved.

This was before the terror, before the anger, before the fear . . . before everything.

Come with me, walk with me on a rainy day to a special place.

Leave your burdens.

Today, I invite you to read my latest release: Walking in the Rain: A Short Story about a Secret Place which is available exclusively through Amazon. No Kindle is required to read the story; and, you can email Walking in the Rain as a Holiday gift. For those who are too busy to mail cards, all you need is the email address of friends and family, and you can purchase my story as a gift for $2.99.

If you’re ready for a little old-fashioned Christmas story, read Farmer Billy Albertson’s Hardscrabble Christmas, an e-story about Christmas back when he was a boy.

As always, I send you my best wishes for peace and happiness. Today, and always.

Renea Winchester

Holiday Jalapeno Relish

Friends, if you want to give a gift that is wonderfully delicious and easy to make, then I have a recipe for you. Holiday Jalapeno Relish uses the excess Botanical Interest jalapeno peppers that are still going strong in Southern gardens (at least they are in mine because I covered them when frost threatened). Add sugar, vinegar and a couple other ingredients and ta-da, you’re done.

 

 

Ingredients:

1 pound of jalapeno peppers (washed)

1 medium onion

4 medium carrots sliced thin

1 large bell pepper (green)

3.5 cups of sugar

2 cups apple cider vinegar

1 Tablespoon mustard seed

1 Tablespoon dill seeds

Jelly Jars

Large pot for hot water bath (processing jars)

Instructions:

Step one: wear gloves. Gloves are essential.

Before you begin slicing make certain the peppers are clean. I rinse mine thoroughly and soak for a couple of minutes.

Slice carrots, onions and bell pepper and set aside.

Slice jalapeno peppers and carefully remove seeds by using a spoon to scrape away membrane and seeds (this is what makes the relish hot). If you like spicy relish keep some (not all) of the seeds, but discard the membrane as it will make the relish bitter.

In a saucepan add 3.5 cups of sugar, 2 cups of apple cider vinegar, 1 Tablespoon of yellow mustard seeds and 1 Tablespoon dill seeds. Stir until sugar dissolves. Add all vegetables and cook for 15 minutes.

Spoon mixture into jelly jars and press down to add as much relish as possible in the jar. If desired spoon extra liquid into jars. There should be about a cup of liquid left over that will either need to be discarded, or, boil a half dozen eggs, shell the eggs, and pour the brine over top. Instant spicy pickled eggs. (which I also give as Christmas gifts).

Wipe the glass rim of the jars to make sure they are clean. Add lid and ring. Tighten and add unsealed jars to large pot. Add enough WARM water to cover the top of the jars with 2 inches of water. Bring the water to a boil and boil the jars for ten minutes.

Remove from heat.

Refrigerate any jars that do not seal and serve immediately.

Slice onions, bell pepper, carrots and set aside while you chop jalapeno peppers

Remove the membrane and seeds. Membrane makes the relish bitter. Seeds will make the relish spicy.

This is an image of the jalapeno peppers with seeds remove. Next step, slicing peppers.

Vinegar solution: ready for vegetables. Isn’t it lovely?

Vegetables in brine. Waiting to boil

Peppers will cook down rapidly.

Looks delicious, doesn’t it ?

Holiday Jalapeno Relish. The perfect gift for someone who matters to you. Visit Angierapids.com to learn about the quilt runner in the background.

Renea Winchester is the award-winning author of Farming, Friends, and Fried Bologna Sandwiches; Mountain Memories: True Stories and Half-Truths from Appalachia. Her first book, In the Garden with Billy: Lessons About Life, Love & Tomatoes earned her a SIBA and GAYA nomination.  Email her through her website at www.reneawinchester.com. She welcomes new friends on Facebook. Follow her on Twitter Here.

Day Five: On Being Thankful

I really don’t need the month of November to nudge me into feeling thankful. I am a cancer survivor, descended from two cancer warriors, thankfulness flows in my imperfect blood. I gladly joined Shellie Tomlinson when she asked me to participate in the 30 day Ambassadors For Life Campaign. Before you get bleary-eyed this cause is a simple one. Water.

There are folk in this world who need water.

Shellie wants to raise money to build two wells and thanks to the generosity of many, she is on her way. Please consider donating $ 10.00 today at this link: http://my.ambassadorsforlife.org/campaign/30Days/

Yesterday, I had a pregnant pause about want versus need. I was sitting in the orthodontist’s office with my daughter, and before you fire up an email to me about the expense of vanity braces let me say that my daughter’s lower teeth were so crooked that (by age eleven) the pressure had caused her gums to recede. My option was braces now, or gum replacement later. I chose the braces.

While waiting, I sifted through my pile of coupons. I am no coupon queen, but I do try to save every single dime I can, especially since the release of my third book is another year away and money is tight. (See above reference to braces).

Enter into the waiting room two women. These women travel a lot, and they are repainting the kitchen of a Florida home a lovely shade of white. One of them also needs a flu shot. They were loud talkers. While they both flipped through a single magazine one of the ladies stopped on a handbag she was interested in. “Oh, I couldn’t pay $ 600.00 for a purse,” the other woman said.

“I’ve got one just like it, only a different color. And, the purse isn’t $ 600.00. That’s the price for the wallet.”

Glancing down at my coupons, I couldn’t help but pause. Process. Wonder what makes people want to place that kind of money (their money) into the hand of another. Really. I do not understand. If I had six-hundred extra dollars I wouldn’t buy a new purse (or wallet).  I don’t want to come off as judgmental, but there are a lot of hurting people in this world. There are over 50 homeless kids in my daughter’s school. For those kids, six hundred dollars can put a roof over their heads.

So as I glanced back at my clipped coupons I had a gigantic thankful moment. I am thankful that I can see the hurting and the hungry, and those who are literally, dying because of unsanitary water. Today I ask you, please, if you are financially able, make a ten-dollar donation to the Ambassadors For Life program. If you are considering purchasing a six-hundred-dollar wallet, would you consider donating instead to the Ambassadors program? I believe that donating to this cause will bring you more satisfaction in your heart than carrying around a purse.

Renea Winchester is a descendant of the Ridley’s and the Winchester’s of Rabun County, Georgia. She is the author of Mountain Memories, a collection of stories about her Southern People. Her first book, In The Garden with Billy: Lessons about Life, Love and Tomatoes, earned her two prestigious nominations: Georgia Author of the year and the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance book of the year. In 2012, the Atlanta Pen Women named her Author of the year. Mercer University Press will release: Farming, Friends and Fried Bologna Sandwiches in 2014.

 

It’s NaNoWriMo Time…Again

It’s NaNoWriMo Time, Again

For many folk, November means time to dust off the holiday decorations, plan elaborate meals with family, and search their closet for the pants with elastic waistbands. But for authors, November means National Write a Novel in a Month, which in the beginning was called NaNo. During the month of November a lot of Twitter users will see a lot of entries about #NaNoWrimo

Yes. I am serious. Write a novel … in thirty days.

Image by Frankie Rose

It is world-wide knowledge that those who assemble words are different than workers with regular working hours. Authors are cut from cloth most people wouldn’t wear on a double-dare. We write thoughts on napkins, on our hands, on our jeans. We interrupt people to send ourselves messages. We have sticky notes and notebooks filled with thoughts that –at the time they were written- were pure genus. Some of us drink, a lot. Some smoke, a lot. Some cuss, a lot. Some write at night, or at three am. We are non-conformists; 9 to 5 doesn’t work for us, although we would love for readers to buy our books so we could, at least, enjoy a nice dinner every once and a while. We tell ourselves that we write for our readers, but we authors are also known for fibbing. It is called fiction.

That is why when November rolls around NaNoWriMo writers loose their ever-lovin’ minds and commit to writing not only a novel in thirty days, but a novel that consists of 50,000 words. Or as my critique group leader optimistically wrote, “Renea, that’s only 1,667 words a day.”

Pass the Tylenol; my head already hurts.

So yesterday on NaNo eve, I thought I would do a bit of office purging. The ability to see wood grain on my desk does inspire me to at least think about writing. The rest of the day I flipped back and forty from Facebook, to email, to Twitter, reading all the NaNoWriMo chatter.

This year I thought I would give the buddy system a go. In the past I’ve had a canine assistant, but she isn’t much on encouragement other than the occasional tail thump. For participants needing human interaction, create an account on the NaNoWriMo website then pick buddies that will help you during this crazy- time. For newbies please know that the purpose of NaNoWriMo isn’t to talk about your novel, November is time to put fingers to keys. Come December first you will NOT have a finished manuscript. And, for the love of humanity, please do not think your finished product is ready for publication on December first. What you will have, should you place 50,000 words in your computer’s memory, is the satisfaction that you accomplished your goal. Publication comes later; much, much later.

Some hard-core veterans began outlining their work early. Those authors will go off the grid in November. You won’t find them wasting time on Facebook, or Tweeting anything other than their incredible word count. The procrastinator in me hates those writers. They’ve been tweeting for days about their outline all why my heart beats fast in my chest.

I can’t outline; it cramps my style. I’d much rather spend NaNo eve thinking about all Halloween candy I’m going to steal from my daughter. And November is the worst possible time to embark on 50,000 words. Why not January? In January, we’re avoiding the holiday bills and would rather do anything than exercise those holiday meals off our frame. And, in January we have thirty one days.

Oh sugar, may you bring energy, and words !

Trust me. Authors need every day they can get.

Still, as my critique partner cheerfully asked me to join her on this journey I remember the thought, the whisper, the idea of my first novel. As I unwrap a piece of Halloween candy I ponder that perhaps November is the best time to write. I’ve got enough candy to keep me hopped up on sugar for at least fourteen days. Now all I need is the muse and I’m good to go.

Renea Winchester is an award-winning author whose recent release, Mountain Memories, is available here. Please buy her book before she runs out of Halloween candy and falls short of her writing goal.

In 2014, Mercer University will release Farming, Friends, and Fried Bologna Sandwiches, the second book about Farmer Billy Albertson.