Pure Water Hollow Homestead

Chicken Moving Day/ Chicken Update

1909 America

Where Time Stood Still

The other day I came across a nice book about the region where God has allowed me to have my homestead.  Pure Water Hollow is part of the area the author of the book calls “The Southern Appalachian Region”.  This book is entitled Where Time Stood Still, and was written in 1970 by Bruce and Nancy Roberts.  I enjoyed their brief history and description of the region so much, I decided to quote 8 paragraphs from pages 3-5.  (Three of those pages are nice black and white photographs.)

“Today, the term Appalachia often suggests only poverty, but it means much more, for this was the first frontier of our country.  A wilderness filled with beauty, it was also a place of danger and hardships.  If the settlers survived Indian raids, there was still the threat of smallpox and malaria.  The challenge to survive was great, and those who accepted it were a new breed, unafraid and ready to risk all.

Many of them came from England, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, or France.  The majority were Protestants, strongly imbued with the individualistic traits of their faith and a desire for religious freedom.  Not always literate, they might best be described as a courageous, sometimes ornery people determined to live life in their own way.  Somehow they did, and somehow they managed to survive.

The first settlers literally lived off the land, eating Indian corn, berries, and wild game.  Their possessions were often limited to an ax, a knife, a rifle, and a loom.  But even during those early days, these men and women never considered themselves poor.  For they owned land, and this had not always been possible in Europe.

It was their land that gave them a feeling of worth, a sense of pride and of being men among men.  A basic need was fulfilled, and to this day natives of Appalachia do not consider themselves poor so long as they can call a few acres of land their own.

Having pushed into the mountains by the time of the American Revolution, they raised large families in the shelter of the coves and valleys, often naming their settlements after the families who lived there.  Game was abundant, the valleys fertile, the climate mild, and the country was beautiful.

The land seemed to cast a spell over it people.  Spring was and still is an unforgettable succession of wildflowers, from the first feathery white blooms of the “sarvis” to the purple mist of the redbud trees to the later profusion of white dogwood.  Throughout the forests may be found every shade of green in the spectrum.  Along with the new leaves come the startling beauty of the wild flame azalea, vast stretches of laurel thick with tiny pink blossoms, and spectacular pink and red rhododendrons covering entire mountainsides with a mass of color.

If these people who loved their mountains so well could not leave them in the spring, how could they do so in the fall when they resemble the palette of an absent-minded painter who has allowed one brilliant color to flow into another.  Summer rains and mists are gone, and over this dazzling display is an intensely blue autumn sky ablaze at dusk with the most dramatic sunsets of the year.

It is now over three hundred years since pioneers first settled the recesses of the Appalachian Mountains, and thousands of the descendants of these frontiersmen are still there.  Hospitable and essentially honest, they care little for physical comforts and they enjoy their solitude.”

I wanted to capture these words here on the blog because they ring so true to what we have observed and felt ourselves.  We are truly blessed to be here, and I so appreciate those that have gone this way before us!