The Railroad Comes To Fayetteville — Gift of the Season Day 8

Fayetteville-Arkansas-Depot-date-and-location-unknown — Train depot, Dickson Street, Fayetteville Arkansas, date unknown. Courtesy http://frisco.org/mainline/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/

As early as 1855, Fayetteville city leaders had recognized the potential profit and growth that railway connections would bring to the rest of the county. The rugged Ozark terrain isolated their fledgling village, making commerce difficult and expensive for necessities and luxuries alike. Goods came north by ox cart from the Arkansas River at Van Buren or Ft. Gibson, or south from the railhead in Missouri. After the Civil War, in 1868 Arkansas legislators passed a bill granting aid to railroads which in turn prompted the St. Louis and San Francisco to start laying track south from Springfield, Missouri. The Frisco line made it to Fayetteville in 1881 with passenger service delayed until the completion of the Winslow tunnel. On July 4, 1882, a brass band and a crowd of 10,000 greeted the first passenger train at the Fayetteville Dickson Street station.

Arkansas-Railroad-Museum-45 — Winslow railroad tunnel circa 1885. Courtesy Arkansas Railroad Museum.

All kinds of goods traveled along the new line from Monett, Missouri to Fort Smith—product of a fourteen-year construction effort—encouraging the hopes of men and families seeking livelihood. The most plentiful and profitable local raw material available for the taking were the old-growth trees. Land sold for $1 per acre with an estimated available merchantable timber of 5000 board feet per acre. A flourishing trade blossomed along the track as virgin forest fell to the hands of hardworking men. Within the first decade after 1882, West Fork, Woolsey, Brentwood, Winslow, and several long-since vanished whistle stops became boom towns where railroad ties, fence posts, and rough-cut lumber were loaded onto railcars.

One of the most ambitious men to exploit the timber trade was Hugh F. McDaniel,[1] a railroad builder and tie contractor who had come to Fayetteville along with the Frisco. He purchased thousands of acres of land within hauling distance of the railroad and sent out teams of men to cut the timber. By the mid-1880s, after a frenzy of cutting in south Washington County, he turned his gaze to the untapped fortune of timber on the steep hillsides of southeast Washington County and southern Madison County, territory most readily accessed along a wide valley long since leveled by the east fork of White River.

Mr. McDaniel gathered a group of backers,[2] petitioned the state, and was granted a charter September 4, 1886, giving authority to issue capital stock valued at $1.5 million. This was the estimated cost to build a rail line through St. Paul and on to Lewisburg, which was a riverboat town on the Arkansas River near Morrilton. McDaniel began surveys while local businessman J. F. Mayes worked with property owners to secure rights of way. “On December 4, 1886, a switch was installed in the Frisco main line about a mile south of Fayetteville, and the spot was named Fayette Junction.” Within six months, 25 miles of track had been laid east by southeast through Baldwin, Harris, Elkins, Durham, Thompson, Crosses, Delaney, Patrick, Combs, and finally St. Paul.

Soon after, in 1887, the Frisco bought the so-called “Fayetteville and Little Rock” line from McDaniel. It was estimated that in the first year McDaniel and partners shipped out more than two million dollars’ worth of hand-hacked white oak railroad ties at an approximate value of twenty-five cents each. Mills ran day and night as people arrived “by train, wagon, on horseback, even afoot” to get a piece of the action along the new track, commonly referred to as the “St. Paul line.” Saloons, hotels, banks, stores, and services from smithing to tailoring sprang up in rail stop communities.

As the Fayetteville & Little Rock track extended to Dutton and its final easternmost point at Pettigrew in 1897, local sawmills processed massive logs of oak, walnut, maple, and hickory into rough lumber before it was loaded onto the railcars. “Wagons loaded with hardwood timber—cross ties, fence posts, rives, felloes, sawed lumber to be finished into buggy and wagon wheels and spokes, single trees, neck yokes, handles for hammers and plows, and building materials” streamed into the rail yards along the St. Paul line. Overnight, men became wealthy according to their ability to take advantage of the timber trade.

With the railroad came enormous population growth and the need for more homes, churches, offices, and commercial enterprise. Sufficient supply of building materials depended upon ever more distant timber harvest and upon the increasingly mechanized production of lumber. This frenzy of lumber and milling enterprises fed off the forests of southern Washington and Madison counties, with mills and factories located at various sites around Fayetteville. White oak was preferred for railroad ties, while red oak was the resilient wood of choice for wagon stock, especially bows, hubs, and spokes. Other woods milled included walnut, hickory, ash, and cherry.

All of the trains carrying lumber from the St. Paul line steamed through Fayette Junction, where loads of posts, ties, and raw materials for milling jammed the side tracks. The 1904 Fayetteville City Directory authors summarize: “Those industries which have to do with the manufacture of various articles from hard wood timber are probably among Fayetteville’s most important enterprises. There are four factories devoted to the manufacture of wood wagon materials alone. Their product is shipped to many foreign parts, to the new Island possessions, as well as to every large manufacturing center in our own country.”

~~~

All the timber from points east and south came through Fayette Junction where railroad crews tended the engines, hooked up or dropped off cars on the sidings, threw appropriate switches, and communicated by telegraph, written messages, and word of mouth with various station agents about activities along the tracks. Serving as conductor along the early St. Paul line required a special breed of man, epitomized by the fabled “Irish” John Mulrenin who took on the job after three predecessors had quit in quick succession. For the next thirty years he handled the passengers of the St. Paul line, not just families and businessmen but backwoods lumberjacks and diamond-jeweled card sharks. He became skilled in quick decisions such as cutting short the Pettigrew switching chores to leave drunks stranded at the depot.

fay junc map — Circa 1890 map of Fayetteville Arkansas and the railroad ‘wye’ at Fayette Junction.

The Fayette Junction tracks formed a “Y”, with the southern “wye” used for “storage” and the northern for “industry”. Where the northern “wye” joined the main track near the northernmost point of present-day Vale Avenue, there was a gravel platform, water tank, and depot, although there was never a passenger depot at Fayette Junction. Inside the “Y,” Frisco built mechanical department buildings including a shop and storeroom, an 813 foot long “cinder pit” track, and a 416 foot long “depress” track, according to the 1916 Frisco map. At the southern end of the “Y” was a coal chute track, a coaling plant, boiler room, and a sand house.

The November 19, 1905 train schedule from Fayetteville to Pettigrew left the Dickson Street station at 8:10 a.m., passed through Fayette Junction at 8:40 a.m., and arrived at Pettigrew at 11:50 a.m., with stops at Baldwin, Harris, Elkins, Durham, Thompson, Crosses, Delaney, Patrick, Combs, Brashears, St. Paul, and Dutton. After turning the engine on the roundhouse at Pettigrew, the train departed at 12:55 p.m., and arrived at Fayetteville at 4:15 p.m. In 1915, the train ran approximately fifteen minutes earlier, with the stop at Baldwin now named “Leith.” Return run arrived in Fayetteville at 3:30 p.m. The same schedule and stops were in place in 1927.

The Frisco Fayette Junction Roundhouse was listed in the 1932 Fayetteville directory with a telephone number of 641 under “Railroads” in the Yellow Pages. The Personal Data Book of the Division Superintendent for the Ft. Smith station reported the Fayette Junction population that year was fifty, but it is not clear what area he considered “Fayette Junction.” Three years later, Superintendent S. T. Cantrell inventoried the 75 steam engines and other assets of the division. The oldest engine of the bunch, a “ten-wheeler” No. 488 Baldwin 1910, was in mixed service on the St. Paul to Bentonville line. Also in use to St. Paul was another oil-burner 4-6-0, No. 552 Pittsburgh 1901. Cantrell reported the following locomotive assignments to Fayette Junction as of February 26, 1935. In the shop: #598, 4-6-0, oil, Dickson 1903. In storage: #648, 4-6-0, oil, Baldwin 1904; #750 4-6-0, oil, Baldwin 1902; #755, 4-6-0, oil, Baldwin 1902; #779 4-6-0, oil, Baldwin 1903; #3651 0-6-0, oil, Baldwin 1906; #3676 0-6-0, coal, Baldwin 1905#3695 0-6-0, coal, Baldwin 1906. Later observers remarked on the number of engines in storage as evidence of the “sorry state” of the railroads by 1935.

The Fayette Junction station force in 1932 included an agent-telegraph operator working 6 a.m. until 3 p.m., with a stipend of $0.67 per day. Holidays the hours were 6:15 a.m. until 8:15 a.m. The schedule by 1931 for ‘St. Paul Branch’ showed a mixed train daily (passengers and freight), starting from Fayetteville at 7:45 a.m., arriving Pettigrew at 11a.m., leaving Pettigrew at 12:01 p.m. to return to Fayetteville, where it arrived at 3:10 p.m. All the intermediate stations were shown as flag stops except for Combs, where the train stopped at 9:54 a.m. on the outbound trip and 12:50 p.m. on the return trip, and St. Paul at 10:15 a.m. on the outbound trip and 12:30 p.m. on the return trip.

Mogul 345. From http://www.frisco.org/shipit/index.php?threads/workable-2-6-0.4976/

The fifty years from 1887 to 1937 had seen it all come and go through Fayette Junction. According to favored accounts, the last train to St. Paul ran July 30, 1937, “when ‘Irish’ Mulrenin had in his charge one wheezing locomotive, Mogul #345, and one empty, creaking old wooden coach” with a crate of two hound dogs for passengers. The logging boom had come to an end. The tracks were taken up some time after, but remained across south Fayetteville accommodating various manufacturers in the new Fayetteville industrial park (east of City Lake Road, south of Hwy 16 East) and the shipment of new and recycled metal to and from Ozark Steel Company on South School as late as the 1970s.

This a condensed excerpt from my article on Fayette Junction, a location in South Fayetteville (Washington County, Arkansas) where the 1880s logging boom centered. For the full article, look for my book Glimpses of Fayetteville’s Past, available in local bookstore or at Amazon.

[1] Hugh McDanield, b 1843 to B. F. and Sarah (Terrell), fought for the Union in the Civil War, worked in mercantile trade in Kansas City until 1873, built the Kansas Midland Railway from Kansas City to Topeka, and then operated a ranch in west Texas. After completing the Texas Western Railway in 1877, he turned his attention to Northwest Arkansas and began selling ties in 1881. He bought, logged, and sold thousands of acres of Washington County land and later Madison and Franklin counties over the next seven years and made a fortune furnishing the Santa Fe Railway nearly all its ties for the railroad west. He is credited as founder of St. Paul by the 1889 Goodspeed. He died at age 45 (1888) in Fayetteville of a month-long, unnamed illness.

[2] Backers included F. H. Fairbanks, J. F. Mayes, and J. S. Van Hoose, along with McDaniel’s brother J. S. McDaniel, all of Fayetteville, and D. B. Elliott of Delaney, J. Pickens of Eversonville, Missouri, J. W. Brown of Brentwood, and another brother, B. F. McDaniel of Bonner Springs, Kansas.

Winter — Gift of the Season Day 7

I wrote this piece years ago and included it in my book “I Met a Goat on the Road.” The main grocery store in town was the Lafayette Street IGA, back before Walmart decided to take over the grocery trade. That’s not the only thing that’s changed. Today is December 21 and it’s 61 degrees outside. The ten day forecast finds all overnight lows above freezing. So much for a white Christmas.

Now the story:

She spoke for us all, confessing to the check-out clerk with an excited laugh that if it was going to ice, she’d better get ready. Milk, bread, chocolate bars, corn meal—her choices were different only in detail from the rest of us standing in line in a store so jam-packed that even the stock boys were up front wearing jackets over their aprons and sacking supplies that would keep us secure when the weather moved in. Cars and trucks crowded the parking lot, some left running with the plumes of their exhaust whipped sideways in the freezing wind.

Men waited holding meat, bananas, coffee, restless in insulated tan coveralls with the legs unzipped over their heavy clay-soiled boots, their hair packed down against their heads where knit hats had rested. Uneasy in a role usually filled by their wives, they joked, catching up with old acquaintances who also stood in line, promising to call soon, men not accustomed to being off work at one p.m., hurrying home to family before the sleet started.

The cold came first, thirty-five degrees when I started to town in the morning, twenty two when I returned home, fifteen by three. Wind rocked the great oaks side to side, piling stiff dead leaves in new arrangements at the corner of the woodpile, at the steps. Twelve degrees at dusk, the clouded sky pale pink and white, the countryside settling into frozen night.

Five-thirty a.m. by my bedside clock, the tick-tick of sleet against the windows woke me. I indulged in another hour of fitful sleep, comforted by heavy quilts and cats at my feet. Plans of all I could do raced through my dreams, the albums not finished, correspondence neglected, the watercolors so long set aside. Roads coated in ice meant a day without visitors, a day at home tending the fire, tending myself.

Dressed in sweaters not worn for five years, in long socks and with no regard to appearances, I sipped hot tea at the window. Only a small shift in the light signaled dawn, lifting the dark blue cast of the air to a lighter shade. Barely visible deer moved slowly through the woods, pawing at the ice-coated duff. Tiny crystalline flakes of snow filtered into the sleet, thickening the white of the downfall, obscuring trees at the fence line. It was four degrees.

I built a fire in the wood-burning cook stove. A kettle of water with cinnamon oil steamed while I crafted my list of things to do, tasks that seemed too petty or cumbersome for normal days when open roads and obligations burdened the hours. I would simmer apricots with honey and ginger and fry half-moon pies, edges evenly crimped with tender fork lines. I would sketch scenes, the road to my house or the contoured hills, and let watercolor swirl on the heavy paper, a skyscape of gray and blue, fields tan, oaks silhouetted black.

Freshly washed clothes hung by the blistering stove where greedy heat soon pulled out all moisture. With satisfying frugality, a pot of vegetable soup thick with garlic and a pan of beans decorated the stove top, cornbread in the small sooty oven. Every few hours I rushed out for more wood, lingering coatless in the sharp scent of cold and wood smoke, large flakes of snow tumbling down into my hair, resting on my eyelashes.

The winters have not been accommodating in recent years, failing first with abbreviated snows, then disappointing even in temperature. In the onslaught of global warming, the Ozark hills have increasingly remained accessible in deepest January. A few decades earlier, our steep, curving roadways had been reliably impassible for at least two arctic weeks of the year. We grew to expect that at times chosen by Nature, no one would venture out. The guy with the local wrecker service would make enough money to last until June.

In this mid-South clime of Northwest Arkansas, we don’t get winter enough to justify the county’s expense for snow plows. It suits us better to schedule school years with extra days for snow. It pleases us to find ourselves unexpectedly confined to the house. In that splendid isolation, we might discover long lost treasures at the back of the closet, read magazines, stand at the window staring out in silence as midday lightens the sky to a shade barely more luminous than the snow lying thick on the ground.

Lately there has been little winter at all. Days have run together, no time to reflect, restore, sleep in the afternoon. We long for the cold, the ice, roads we could not drive, jobs we could not attend. Our bodies crave hibernation.

Welcome then this celebration of ancient instincts to stay in the cave, content with the provisions we have hoarded, the firewood we have stacked near the door, wrapped in the warmth we have made. Embrace this triumph of survival over the elements, proof of our adequacy in a time when little else seems so clear.

Gift of the Season Day 6 — Price Markdown

They were the hippies, the drop-outs, the radicals. They came from New York, Detroit, Chicago, Los Angeles, New Orleans, and bought cheap Arkansas land where they could build lives with meaning. Often the topic of heated rhetoric and armchair analysis, those who went ‘back to the land’ rarely speak in their own voice. Now documented in these personal interviews, their stories reveal the guts, glory, and grief of the 1960s social revolution.

Previously listed at $15.95, now for a limited time the paperback is available for $11.95. A lasting gift! Amazon buy link

“Denele Campbell’s informative ‘Aquarian Revolution: Back to the Land’ fills a much-needed niche in the history of the Counter-Culture movement. Unlike in more crowded Europe, America’s rural expanse offered an escape, a new beginning in the 1960s, from a social cancer spreading through the dominant culture. The dream of finding land to till and an alternative life style had been an American dream since its founding. America’s cities, mired in racism, sexism, poverty, and riots, seemed doomed. The ‘baby boomers’ sought escape by going to the land, many for the first time. Denele Campbell has carefully chronicled the personal stories of thirty-two pioneers who opted to create their utopian vision in the Ozarks. As such, their quest is at times fascinating, amusing, and often painful. Yet, it is a good read for those who lived through this era as well as today’s young.” —-T. Zane Reeves, Regents’ Professor Emeritus, University of New Mexico and author of Shoes along the Danube.

And a Merry Solstice to You!

Seems like every year about this time we hear the same outcry from certain sectors of the Christian community. And every year the same responses arise, that Christians do not ‘own’ the midwinter holidays. Rebirth of the sun on the year’s shortest day, not any particular religion, lies at the heart of midwinter celebrations around the world. The modern Christian custom of marking December 25 as the birth date of Jesus Christ was established by church fathers sometime in the 4^th century in their effort to override pagan beliefs.[1] Yet modern holiday traditions surrounding Christmas derive from those ancient roots, not the other way around.

So yes, you could call this another response. But I wanted to gather, in one fairly tidy summation, an overview of the non-Christian winter solstice traditions. So I dug in and thought I’d share the results with you.

Far back into prehistory, human rituals marked the winter solstice. The year’s shortest day arguably served as early man’s most important marker of the passage of time, a point of reckoning enshrined in monolithic stone structures which align with the sun’s movement. Archaeological examinations of better known sites such as Stonehenge (it’s believed the site was established by 8000 BCE) have uncovered evidence of fires, feasting, and ritual sacrifice. Manmade monuments with midwinter alignments are found on every continent.[2]

The earliest written records of solstice celebrations are Sumerian and Egyptian myths dating from around 3000 BCE. In Egyptian myth, the birthday of the god Horus was celebrated on the winter solstice. His mother Isis was impregnated by the resurrected body of Osiris. The annual celebration marking that birth included offerings, feasting, and sacrifice. Writing in 65 BCE, Plutarch stated “…it is said that Isis…at the winter solstice gave birth to Harpocrates (from Hor-pa-khered, Horus the Child).[3], [4] The story of Horus is one of several original archetypes of a sky god born by supernatural means.

The Twelve Days of Christmas came from the Sumerians. The celebration for the rebirth of the year lasted twelve days. It is also from the Sumerian celebration that the next oldest tradition derives, gift giving. During their celebrations, the Sumerians held huge parades, wished good tidings to each other, and exchanged gifts. Early Greeks adopted the Solstice with celebrations honoring Zeus’s victory over Kronos and the Titans.[5],[6]

As early as 1000 BCE, Eastern Asians including Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Koreans celebrated the year’s shortest day with the Dongzhi Festival on or about December 22. The solstice festival gives a nod to the yin-yang philosophy of balance and harmony in the cosmos as recorded in the Daoist teachings of the I Ching.[7] After the celebration, days of longer daylight hours brought an increase in positive energy as symbolized in the I Ching hexagram fù (復, “Returning”). Today, Asian people cook special foods such as the colorful balls of glutinous rice known as tangyuan or, in more northern regions, a certain type of dumpling. Old traditions also require people with the same surname or from the same clan to gather at their ancestral temples to worship on this day. A grand reunion dinner follows.

The early Iranian religion Zoroastrianism recognized a holiday they called Sadeh which is now celebrated in Iran as Yalda. Documented as early as 600 BCE, fires were set on December 25 near water and the temples. The fire was originally meant to assist the revival of the sun and bring back the warmth and light of summer. It was also supposed to drive off the demons of frost and cold which turned water to ice and thus could kill the roots of plants.[8]

The Vainakh people of the North Caucasus include the modern Chechens and Ingush who celebrate Malkh on December 25 as the birthday and the festival of the Sun. During the ceremonies suppliants turned to the east.[9] The Hindu Sankranti historically takes place on the Solstice, although the date is January 14, which gives evidence to how much time has elapsed since it started. It is believed that people who die on this day end the reincarnation cycle, for which reason it is very lucky. Gifts are exchanged, sweets and other special food are consumed, and bonfires are lit on Sankranti eve, which is known as Lohari.[10]

More specific to our Western traditions, pagans of Scandinavia and Germanic regions celebrated the season as Yule. People came to the common hall and brought food. It was a three day celebration in memory of ancestors and dates back to the Stone Age in Western Europe. Animals were sacrificed and everyone drank ale. A specially selected Yule log burned through these days as a symbol of the returning sun.[11]

thor — Thor rides in a chariot pulled by two great goats named Tanngnjóstr (Old Norse “teeth-barer, snarler”) and Tanngrisnir (Old Norse “teeth grinder”). From twayneheeter.wordpress.com

Particularly in Scandinavia, the last sheaf of grain from the harvest was preserved for the occasion, believed to hold magical properties and called the ‘Yule goat.’ Another tradition holds that the Yule goat is a spirit that appears during preparations for the Yule to ensure things are done right. A popular theory is that the celebration of the goat is connected to worship of the Norse god Thor, who rode the sky in a chariot drawn by two goats.[12]

Northern Europeans also celebrated the Yule boar in a tradition where all men laid hands on the bristles of a sacrificed boar and solemn vows made. There is believed to be a connection between the choice of a boar and the Nordic god Freyr, whose mount is the gold-bristled boar Gullinbursti. The continuing Swedish tradition of eating pig-shaped cakes at Christmas recalls the heathen custom. The serving of a roasted pig’s head at midwinter feasts in England also recreates this ancient tradition as does the serving of a Christmas ham on many American tables. [13]

Saturnalia was an ancient Roman midwinter festival in honor of the deity Saturn. It occurred within the broader seasonal celebration known as Brumalia and continued from December 17 through December 23.[14] Sacrifices to the gods, a public banquet, and private gift giving were the primary activities. Candles were given to help drive away evil and encourage the return of the sun. Other gifts included toys for children and gag gifts as well as monetary gifts from employers and ranking members of society to their employees or underlings. On the day of Saturnalia, Roman social norms reversed so that masters served the servants, gambling was allowed, and a carnival atmosphere prevailed. In keeping with the reversal, Roman citizens wore the conical felt hat (pileus) typically worn by freed slaves as a symbol of their freedom, an ancient Greek tradition. The idea of reversal is believed to have symbolized the reversal of the sun’s decline.

Man pilos Louvre MNE1330 by Marie-Lan Nguyen (2009). Licensed under CC BY 2.5 via Commons — The pileus, possibly the inspiration for Santa’s hat? From Louvre MNE1330 by Marie-Lan Nguyen (2009). Licensed under CC BY 2.5 via Commons

In Roman mythology, Saturn was an agricultural deity who was said to have reigned over the world in the Golden Age when humans enjoyed the spontaneous bounty of the earth without labor. The revelries of Saturnalia were supposed to reflect the conditions of the lost mythical age. Following Saturnalia, on December 25 the renewal of light and coming of a new year was celebrated as Dies Natalis of Sol Invictus, the “Birthday of the Unconquerable Sun.”

Similarly, the celebration of Hannukah among Jews tracks the same prehistoric tradition. As noted by one rabbi, “…it is a short leap to surmise that the Maccabees, when they took the anniversary of that day as the day of rededication, were rededicating not only the Temple but the day itself to Jewish holiness; were capturing a pagan solstice festival that had won wide support among partially Hellenized Jews, in order to make it a day of God’s victory over paganism. Even the lighting of candles for Hanukkah fits the context of the surrounding torchlight honors for the sun.”[15]

The origins of the Christian gift-bringer figures in European folklore connect specifically with the Yule festivals of Germanic paganism and are often associated with the figure of Odin, the leader of the Wild Hunt at the time of Yule. Santa Claus’ reindeer have been compared to Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse of Odin. After Christianization, the benign mid-winter gift bringer was associated with the 4^th century Christian Saint Nicholas of Myra, based on his generous gifts to the poor.[16]

MerryYule — Merry Yule from http://www.kitchenwiccan.com/2013/11/)

The use of mistletoe as a kissing bough evidently derives from a Celtic custom in which Druid priests climbed a sacred oak to cut down mistletoe from which they made an elixir to cure infertility.[17] Holly use during the holiday season also derives from Celtic custom; Druid priests wore wreaths of holly on their heads. Wreaths as household ornaments originated with Greeks and Etruscans (by 600 BCE) as an offering to the gods to prevent crop failure and plagues. Evergreens were sacred because they did not ‘die,’ thereby representing the eternal aspect of the Divine.[18]

Wassailing as a house-to-house caroling tradition follows from the Anglo-Saxon toast Wæs þu hæl, meaning “be thou hale”—i.e., “be in good health.” In medieval Britain, the practice became an exchange between feudal lords and their peasants wherein the lords could practice charitable giving. Songs sung by visiting bands of peasants such as “Here We Come A’Wassailing” and “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” emphasized this dynamic but also hinted at the implied threat that if ‘figgy pudding’ wasn’t given ‘right here,’ vandalism or at least curses might be inflicted upon the manor house.[19]

321px-1870_ChristmasTree_byEhninger_HarpersBazaar — Illustration for Harper’s Bazaar, published January 1, 1870

Christmas trees were relatively unknown in the United States until well into the 19^th century and were first considered strictly a German custom. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, “The use of evergreen trees, wreaths, and garlands to symbolize eternal life was a custom of the ancient Egyptians, Chinese, and Hebrews. Tree worship was common among the pagan Europeans and survived their conversion to Christianity in the Scandinavian customs of decorating the house and barn with evergreens at the New Year to scare away the devil and of setting up a tree for the birds during Christmastime.”[20]

Advent, a period of Christian rituals leading up to Christ’s Mass, began sometime in the late 5^th century. The earliest Christmas hymns date to the same period. Modern Christian worship centered on the holiday may involve lighting of candles, prayers, giving to the poor, and other elements of earlier pagan traditions.

The midwinter celebration is the oldest of human traditions. With its darkness and cold, the shortest day gives pause even to the most jaded world citizen. Remembrance of family, feasting, exchange of gifts, and well wishes are no less compelling today than they were in the shadows of our ancient past. Future generations will continue to note this compelling point of the sun-earth cycle, no matter by what name.

May your days be merry and bright!

Please note I openly confess to shameless usage of cited materials.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winter_solstice

[2] BCE refers to “Before Common Era,” sometimes notated as BC, or “Before Christ.”

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horus

[4] http://isiopolis.com/2011/12/25/isis-osiris-horus-and-the-holy-day-of-december-25th/

[5] http://blog.chron.com/thewiccanway/2011/12/winter-solstice-and-christmas-traditions-and-where-they-came-from/

[6] See also Crump, William D., The Christmas Encyclopedia, 3^rd Edition. McFarland. p 369

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yin_and_yang

[8] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadeh

[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malkh-Festival

[10] http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/winterholidays/p/WinterHolidays.htm

[11] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yule_log

[12] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yule_Goat

[13] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonarg%C3%B6ltr

[14] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brumalia

[15] http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/hanukkah-and-the-winter-solstice/

[16] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_gift-bringer

[17] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual_of_oak_and_mistletoe

[18] https://wicca.com/celtic/akasha/yule.htm

[19] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wassailing

[20] http://www.britannica.com/plant/Christmas-tree

Gift of the Season Day 5 — Book Price Markdown

A visiting guinea? A ‘possum in the dining room? What strange and wondrous occurrences can one expect while living on an Ozark mountaintop for thirty-five years?

These lyrical adventure stories feature chickens, raccoons, bugs, dogs, cats, and natural critters of this woodland home. Throw in a few neighbors who shoot copperheads or remodel the dirt road. Ponder the passage of time through a philosophical lens of wonder and delight. The seasons bring summer heat, winter snow, pouring rain, the power of fire. Lessons learned, questions posed-who has lived and died on this land? What is our responsibility to this place, its creatures, each other?

Come meet the goat on the road.

Now available for only $6.95. A lovely gift for anyone. Amazon buy link

“I enjoyed all these stories and especially admired the author’s ability to describe the creatures she encounters with a naturalist’s eye and a pet lover’s emotions. My favorite story was ‘Summer,’ a languorous description of a 102-degree day on the mountain where the smallest movement seems difficult and time slows down. The author’s prose is lyrical and yet unsentimental. You can feel the heat and the sense of relief when the day draws to a close. A beautifully-written series of stories…” Reviewed by Annamaria Farbizio for Readers’ Favorite

Book Price Markdown — Gift of the Season Day 4

Obscure laws often become weapons used selectively against people who offend prevailing social sensibilities. This was the case examined in A Crime Unfit To Be Named. In 1949, a local man in this small Bible belt town became the target of extraordinary police scrutiny. Despite his advanced age and the private nature of his activities, if found guilty John William Campbell would face hard time. Swept up in this vendetta, two younger women would also become entangled in the notorious Arkansas criminal justice system.

Now for a limited time, this paperback is available for only $6.95, marked down from its regular price of $9.95. Amazon buy link

“I started reading ‘A Crime Unfit to Be Named’ and just didn’t stop. It’s really interesting and well written. Excellent research, too. Very fine job.”
—J. B. Hogan, Historian and Author of “The Apostate.”

Pineapple Candy! — Gift for the Season, Day 3

One of my fondest holiday memories is of my mother making Pineapple Candy. Without a candy thermometer to ensure the mixture had boiled long enough, she would pace and mutter, repeatedly dipping out tiny portions to drop in cold water to see if it would hold a soft ball shape. I particularly remember that part because I happily retrieved the test portion. Yum! Somehow, despite all the drama, many a Christmas morning found us enjoying this delicious treat!

Pineapple Candy

3 cups brown sugar, packed

1 8-ounce can crushed pineapple

2 cups English walnuts, coarsely chopped

❧ Stir sugar and pineapple together in medium saucepan over medium high heat.

❧ Cook to the firm end of soft ball stage, 240° on candy thermometer.

❧ Cool pan in water bath, beating while it cools.

❧ When mixture has mostly cooled, add walnuts and continue beating until it starts to thicken, then quickly spread into buttered 8x8x2 pan.

❧ Let set until fully cooled, then cut into 1-inch squares.

Enjoy this and other down home recipes in my cookbook, Recipes of Trailside Cafe and Tea Room

Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1492137405

Cheese Ball! — Gift for the Season, Day 2

Yes, there are about as many cheese ball recipes as there are cooks. I’ve used this one since 1969! It’s an easy tangy treat that never fails to please! Makes a great holiday gift, too.

Cheese Ball

12 ounces cream cheese (1 ½ 8-ounce packages)

4 ounces blue cheese, crumbled

1 cup sharp cheddar, shredded

⅓ cup finely chopped red onion

1 clove minced garlic

1 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

Soften cream cheese. (Remove from package and microwave 30 seconds) Place in mixing bowl and mash with spatula until fully blended and softened. Add other ingredients and mix well. Yield: about 3 cups.

Cheese Ball shaping and decorating options:

1. Divide into three portions. Place a sheet of parchment paper on a work surface and put one portion of the cheese mixture onto the paper. Gently roll cheese inside of paper into a log shape. Repeat for other two portions. Place the three rolls into refrigerator for at least three hours, until fully chilled. Remove paper. Logs may be rolled in minced fresh parsley or chopped toasted pecans. Place on serving plate, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. Allow to come to room temperature about ½ hour before serving.

2. Place full recipe of cheese ball onto platter and spread out into a Christmas tree shape about 1 inch thick overall. Form 4-5 limb end points along each side. Use roasted red pepper strips or pimento strips to create a garland that zigzags from side to side. Slice green olives with pimento centers to create tree ornaments. Alternately, the entire “tree” can be sprinkled with minced fresh parsley and then ornamented with red pepper strips and olives as described. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. Allow to come to room temperature about ½ hour before serving.

3. Using waxed paper between your hands and portions of cheese ball, roll balls of various sizes. Coat each ball in a different material: minced fresh parsley, toasted pecans, toasted chopped almond slivers, finely sliced green onion (include some of the green part), diced red and green peppers, diced green olives, diced black olives, or other ingredients of your preference. Arrange balls on serving platter.

Serve Cheeseball with cheese knives and any of the following:

Savory crackers, toasted pita bread or pita chips, raw vegetable sticks such as carrots and celery, toasted french bread thinly sliced, sliced apple or pear

A Gift for the Season — Day 1

This yummy recipe for vegetable soup is sure to cure whatever ails you from the common cold to a lousy mood. Simple, flexible, and easy. From my cookbook, Recipes of Trailside Cafe & Tea Room.

Vegetable Soup

1 large onion, chopped small (1 ½ cups)

4 ribs celery including leaves if possible, chopped small (1 ½ cups)

2-3 carrots, chopped small (1 ½ cups)

3 cloves garlic, minced

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 15-ounce can petite dice tomatoes

1 ½ teaspoons sugar

1 ½ quarts water

2 baby yellow squash (or 1 medium size), bad skin areas and seeds removed, ½ inch dice

½ tablespoon salt

½ teaspoon black pepper

2 large potatoes, ½ inch dice

❧ Heat large soup pan, add oil, sauté onion, celery, and carrot over high heat until they start to soften (about 10 minutes).

❧ Add garlic, stir briefly, add tomatoes. Stir to heat through.

❧ Add squash, water, sugar, salt, pepper.

❧ Heat to boil, cover, reduce heat to gentle simmer for about 1 hour.

❧ Add potato, cover, increase heat until bubbling, immediately reduce to very low heat so mixture barely simmers. Cover and cook until potatoes are tender, about 30 minutes. Too long or too hot cook time will cause potatoes to break down and broth will be milky.

❧ Taste for seasoning, add salt if needed.

Options: Use leftover cooked vegetables such as lima beans, English peas, green beans, or corn in addition to or instead of the squash.

The Journal of Admiral Wade

Strange dim light, shifts in time, in perspective. Can we experience past lives? How do we survive the inexorably slow loss of love? Why do epiphanies slip up on us?

A man drives his aging Volvo into another day and out of any world he’s ever known.

A woman retrieves an old trunk and finds hidden treasure of inexplicable nature.

Delores is eager to discuss the details of Carlos’ file, which she appropriated from Records across the corridor. “He’s a bright young man, girls,” she says, reorganizing the lettuce on her sandwich with her long nails.

Josie’s room in an ancient hotel built over a Mayan temple leads to intimate hallucinations. Or are these men real?

What quirks of the universe drive us to the thoughts and deeds that ultimately define our lives? Does magic happen? Do dreams transport us?

These lyrical short stories explore pivotal moments, realizations, and inevitable conclusions in lives of unexpected dimension.

With a December 5 release date, this anthology of eight short stories is available as an ebook or paperback. Pre-order the ebook through December 4 for only 99¢. Amazon buy link — http://www.amazon.com/dp/1519372639

EXCERPT from Her Natural Home:

The dining room opened from the lobby through an archway of gray stone and onto a patio where flowering plants, shrubbery, and vines formed a low wall around the perimeter. Candles and torches illuminated the space. The maître d’ led Josie to a corner table close to hibiscus shrubs with papery yellow blossoms. A starched white cloth spread over the table, which was set with white cloth napkins, a fat white candle in a saucer, and a squat glass vase with vibrant red flowers. Night air wafted over her and above she could see the stars. She sighed and leaned back.

“Tequila,” she ordered when the waiter came.

She imagined throwing the burning liquor down her throat in one quick toss and slamming the empty glass onto the table before demanding another, as if she were some dusty outlaw in a Clint Eastwood western. In planning for the trip, she had pictured herself ordering wine with her meals. Something elegant. Yet the idea of ordering tequila seemed familiar, as if she had considered it without acknowledgement. It surprised her that she had entertained that train of thought and kept it hidden from herself, only now to discover her self-deception.

If that’s what it was. The term seemed unduly harsh.

The waiter set a small glass of amber liquid on the tablecloth in front of her nestled on its own personal round coaster, white and scalloped around the edges. He also delivered a small plate with a mound of coarse white salt and several wedges of lime. All of it glistened beautifully in the light from her table candle. She waited until he left then sipped the tequila. The offensive liquid burned then sweetened explosively in her mouth. The salt and lime relieved her discomfort and by the end of the portion, she felt a relaxing glow in her biceps and throat.

The waiter appeared at the table.

“I’ll have another,” she said precisely, aware of the movement of her lips.

“Senora,” he said with a slight bow.

She turned with unusually greedy appetite to the soft enchiladas and guava and meaty sauces that swam in the plate. Sips of tequila diminished the fiery tang of the sauce. Shadows flickered on the tablecloth. She cut her eyes sideways at the waiter as she ordered her third tequila, and he brought a double, along with more salsa and fresh avocado. Red tiles underfoot emanated warmth through her thin sandals. The faint breeze shifted, heavy with the scent of blossoms and chilies and scorched flour tortillas.

What other life had she ever known? What house, what furniture, and why had it ever held any meaning? Who were the people she knew, neighbors, coworkers, relatives she saw on occasion, people at the familiar stores where she bought gas, milk, hosiery? She knew the streets of Woodson Terrace, even of the inner city where she could merge into speeding traffic and compete with the most aggressive drivers. She kept a list of reliable repairmen. She was an assured adult, someone who on a whim entered a contest for a digital camera and won instead something she did not want at all. Something she had not expected and could not explain, now that she was doing it. It was happening. Something she enjoyed very much. Whatever it was.