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An ode to what the old farmhouse has meant to us on the day we begin construction on our new home on our own farm about three miles away.
It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die.” Products of suburbia, my three children wondered why there was no cable TV or Target, not to mention central heat. My daughter, hungry from the trip, tried to call Domino’s. My cousins explained gently (and without laughing) that they don’t deliver pizza out here. I think it took her a good thirty minutes to believe they weren’t making that up.
I was at a turning point in my life, a crossroads where for the first time I could choose where I would live, not simply be carried along by circumstance. I was born in Texas, grew up in Maryland, Alabama, and California, and had since lived everywhere from Idaho to the Carolinas. When people used to ask me where I was from, I would go blank, like a foster child passed around to too many families to know which one was home. Where did I come from? I longed, deeply, to find a place to call mine. And as a writer, my office is my laptop. I could choose anywhere. So why did I choose West Virginia, a state that has notoriously lost population in the past century?
When I was a little girl and we lived in a suburb of D.C., my father took us every summer to an old cabin in West Virginia that stood on the last family-owned piece of a farm that once belonged to my great-grandfather, a farm once spanning hundreds of acres on the banks of the Pocatalico River. My father was born and raised on that farm in what was then known as Stringtown, a gas and oil boomtown in the early 20th century. Back in his day, what are now wild woods were cleared farm fields. There was a church, a school, a store, and even a hotel. The gasoline plant employed 50 men. There were wooden sidewalks down the dirt road and a public walking bridge across the river. The one-room schoolhouse where my grandmother taught still stands, but the Stringtown where I played during those long-ago summers was much different otherwise. It was like some kind of lushly-forested alternate universe filled with the ghosts and tales of my ancestors—the now-overgrown hills and meadows they once farmed, the caves where they hid their horses from Confederate soldiers, the graves in hidden cemeteries where they were buried. I loved those summers in West Virginia. I loved the trees and the quiet. I loved swinging on grapevines over the river and learning to skip rocks. And most of all, I loved that sense of history and place. My father clearly felt enough sentiment for it to share it with me by bringing me to visit here, yet despite its charms he–like so many of his generation in West Virginia, drawn like moths to the flame of cosmopolitan life beyond these simple hills—grew up and moved away, never to return but for those brief times. He used to say about West Virginia, “I got out of there as soon as I could.”
But when I stood at that crossroads nearly two years ago now and decided to move to the boonies of West Virginia, to a tiny town just over the hill from my great-grandfather’s old farm, I took a deep breath of the clean air, looked up at the sky littered with stars you could actually see, felt the far-reaching pull of my family’s roots, and said, “I got here as soon as I could.”
We live in the countryside outside the cutest little town that takes, oh, a minute and a half to drive through. Most people might think there’s not much here, but there’s all we need. If we actually want something from the city, we can drive the winding road to the interstate and get it, but that doesn’t happen too often. We have a cute little library comprised of one room, a cute little grocery store with five aisles, a couple of small churches and a bank, all flanked by country roads so narrow you have to pull off to pass. The school is so small, when my eighth grader graduated and I asked him who his friends were, he looked at me as if that was a stupid question and said, “There are only thirty-six students in the whole grade. I have to be friends with everyone.”
And he’s right—everyone is friends with everyone. The whole town is like one big “Cheers” bar. Everyone knows your name. At first, I found this disconcerting. Why are these strangers in the grocery store talking to me like they know me? And how do they know my name? When my oldest son totalled my car two days after he got his driver’s license, all the kids at school knew about it by the time he got there the next morning. When I arrived at the accident scene, a paramedic I’d never laid eyes on before was calling to me by first name. My cousin’s wife (a nurse at the nearby hospital) ran down to the emergency room in case we needed to come in. My cousin heard about it at his office and drove down to the scene. It’s like everyone knows everything by some kind of osmosis here. Everywhere I went for the next month, people asked me about the accident. This is a world away from the anonymous suburbs. Here, people are connected—to the land, to the history, to each other. People know—and care—about their neighbors (and they seem to know everything approximately five minutes after it happens). I watch my cousin drive his tractor down the country road every spring to plow his neighbor’s garden. I see my cousin’s mother take food up the hollow to a friend who had a farm accident. When a kitten climbed in and got stuck in the dash of my car, neighbors came over to try to get it out. No matter how big or small the problem is, people don’t just care, they help. People keep walking when a woman is being attacked in broad daylight on a public street in some parts of the United States, but people will drop everything to help a kitten here.
My kids eat sandwiches sitting in apple trees. They jump fully clothed in the river if they want to. They skate on frozen creeks and they know how to pick a hoe out of the shed. They know what a low-water bridge is, and how to set a turtle trap. We don’t worry about burglars at night but raccoons. They eat corn on the cob and know they planted the seed. People around here don’t have much if you compare them to suburbanites. Even if they can afford it, they don’t buy granite countertops or designer clothes, and there’s not much competition at the high school for the swankest car. As my son likes to say (in his exaggerated teenage way), “They’re all driving cars their grandfathers bought in 1950.” But for all they don’t have, what they do have is each other, along with that deeply-held pride in community and family and plain living that has been largely lost in the contemporary world.
And that’s exactly why I wanted to bring my once-pampered suburban children here, to grow up knowing what matters, what is real. West Virginia is still an alternate universe from the rest of the country. Here, you don’t call for pizza. You call your neighbor.
Other people may have chosen to leave, but I chose to come, and I choose to stay. When people ask me where I’m from now, I have an answer. I’m from West Virginia. And my children, who once wondered if I brought them to this slanted little house to die, have bloomed like flowers taken from a sterile hothouse and put out in the natural sun.
We didn’t come to this slanted little house to die. We came here to live.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on September 5, 2007
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Yet my soul still longs for the land, and sometimes a sad-sick feeling will sweep over me, with the words “I want to go home” coming unbidden to my mind. It’s not a longing for Gaspé, per se, but for wide-open spaces, forests, and room to breathe.
Then I have to remind myself of a Chinese (I believe) proverb that says, “Bloom where you are planted.”
Sometimes that’s the best you can do.
Wishing you Blessings and Joy on your next steps, Suzanne.
-Kim
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Leanne
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Great post.
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:clap:
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Cole
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As a country girl who moved to the city, then back to the country once again, I can relate. I love that my kids enjoy the rural way of life. Your own kids seem to be thriving, and clearly you love it too. :treehugger:
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I hope you are having a fantastic week.
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I want to move there too!
Beautiful stuff, Suzanne. Beautiful.
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I am so glad that you and the kids found a place to heal, to grow, to thrive. I have enjoyed all of the pictures of your new world. I look forward to pictures of your new house!
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your sixth cousin(i think), ginger
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Beverly
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You don’t know me, but I am your Cousin Michael’s wife, Sonia – we live now (as I’m sure you’ve heard) just south of Cleveland Ohio in the house I formerly shared with my late husband. I have stayed at the farmhouse – and I, too, had many of the feelings you so beautifully expressed here. I don’t belong there – as although I attended schools in St. Louis, Denver, Oklahoma City,and Kansas.I was “born” in Akron Ohio and at not quite 18, I returned to Ohio to attend Kent State and have been here ince. This is my home; it was the home of both my parents. But – West Virginia reminded me of my “growing up” spent in a town of 4,000 in southern Kansas. It was peaceful, beautiful, relaxing and I found great calm and contentment there. I’m glad you and your children have found a sense of belonging and have gone back to your “roots”. I hope to meet you sometime next year. Always, Sonia L. Sergent (Mike Sergent’s wife)
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WHERE do you grocery shop??
Love the blog, the kitties, your stories and pictures..
Happy Holidays!
MADDIE
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CG
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You are one of a few that understand the true beauty of living in a rural West Virginia town. I grew up in a rural area about 45 minutes east of Morgantown [Terra Alta] and it was at times hard knowing that there were modern conveniences in the larger towns that we didn’t have. I now look back and truly appreciate the life that I shared with my parents and sister in our farming community.
I now live in Austin, TX and yearn for that childhood for my son. Unfortunately, we can’t move back to WV but I am determined to give him the smalltown experience one way or another.
I miss my home among the hills…….the rugged beauty and the aboslute quiet on a cold winters night.
Thanks for the post!
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She was telling me a story about someone coming to visit and as soon as the car doors opened all the kids disappeared. She said that always happens.
She sent me a picture the other day and her kids had built a fort. I asked if she told them about the fort we had built. There’s something about being outside, running and playing and imagining what could be. It’s the best way to raise kids.
Thank you for your story.
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Thanks for sharing your experience.
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I love your site!!! TAkes me back to another world. My father too grew up in War Eagle WV. Never been there though. I cant wait to make the pumpkin butter. Can you send me the chocolate pudding care recipe – my mother use to make it when i was little. Thanks for letting us in to your home, your farm and your life. It is so refreshing these days. I live in Lancaster, Texas. Where were you born in Texas?
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http://chickensintheroad.com/blog/2008/01/12/chocolate-pudding-cake/
And if you click on the “printable recipe” link at the bottom of the post you can print it.
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I look forward to reading your past and future posts.
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I read the “interview” in the Times Record, and enjoyed every word, but when I went to your site, I enjoyed that even more.
I’ve been a country girl all of my life, except for brief intervals. I’ve had a taste of the “City Life”, and want no part of it. I was away for 8 years and moved back to WV, and vowed never to leave again.
As a child, we also had a cellar door with a big chain, and when you opened the door in the winter to bring out a big pan of apples or pears that had been picked and stored earlier in the fall, the aroma was unforgetable, just as were those fresh fruits. As is yours, the shelves were always filled with black berries, and all sorts of other goodies which my mother had worked hard to preserve in the Summer.
I enjoy your excellent writings, and your photos are very impressisve. Keep up the good work, and I’ll certainly spread the word about your wonderful web site.
Sharon
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My home in California was a little transplanted piece of WV. After I retired I moved in with my son (a bachelor) while I searched for my WV home. I promptly dug up his entire back yard and planted a vegetable garden. I grew enough beans that I canned three cases of quarts that summer. Every fall I make apple butter…well you get the picture. Finally I’m in a place where I really fit in.
I read your piece about the move from the city, and tried to read it to my DH, but I was sobbing so I couldn’t get the words out. I forwarded it to friends and family in CA — they think I’m nuts for leaving. (I think they’re nuts for staying.
You said what I feel so much more beautifully than I ever could. Maybe they will understand after they read it from you.
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Your blog wasn’t the information that I was on the hunt for but it was on the other hand, a delightful surprise. Best of luck with your writing! I will look for your books.
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Having grown up as an Air Force brat, then retiring to a small town, I have likes and dislikes about small town living. One, yes, it is wonderful that people are connected – I found out how wonderful that IS, when most of my family died and I felt orphaned. If my husband is deployed, I always say “I can be dead two weeks before anyone would know”….
The flip side, is that I hate the “pecking order” of a small town – certain kids get the BEST summer jobs, because of WHO their parents are and WHO they know…or working as a dental assistant – we could fit in IMMEDIATELY the well to do, but schedule the unknowns, or not take “certain ethnic groups as patients”…type thinking. OR, what you did in 1st grade is NEVER forgotten – you are marked. If you say “Joe blow is a very nice man”…you may hear “yeah, but when he was 6, he was so wild..he smoked a cigarette” – you are marked for life. Plus, it IS annoying to have all the gossip/busibodies…ect. ect. ect.
But, overall, having lived both ways..I have to agree, it sure is nice to have a big old family, who cares – you can overlook many of the other annoyances…just to have caring people around to help and love on, have fun with…
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I used to live in a small town that to this day still has no running water. Had a small barn and chickens and learned to garden and tell when it was going to rain by how close the train sounded.
Learned to really ‘feel’ each season..time to plant, time to harvest, time to get everything ready for winter, then watch for the first stalk of rhubard to peep through the earth.
Fishing in the creeks, hunting for raspberries and blackberries and collecting black-eyed susans for the table.
Oh what memories you stirred up.
You have taken me back to the most beautiful time in my life. Thank you!
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Dehumanizing to say the least!
:flying:
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blessings,
Niki
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You may want to clarify that this is true of RURAL West Virginia. I lived in West Virginia from the age of 3 until my early 20s (just a few years ago). I grew up in Bridgeport, which has a population of about 10,000 and is kind of a sister city to Clarksburg, which has a larger population. In the area where the two towns meet, there are a ton of restaurants, shopping, etc. I lived there until I was 15, and I never had the experience you’re describing, because it wasn’t a rural area.
I then spent 7 years in Morgantown as a college student and a few years after. Population 40,000 or so. Tons of pizza places, etc.
My husband grew up in the eastern panhandle in the Martinsburg area. He grew up on 30 acres outside of the town, so that gave him an experience more like yours. But, again, Martinsburg is nothing like you described.
Just thought some clarification might be good. None of the three towns/cities I described have that neighborly sensation, all have pizza places and plenty of grocery stores and restaurants, etc. They’re like any other town/city of population 10,000-50,000 in the United States….
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My name is Amy, and I was born in D.C., grew up in Maryland to age 11, then moved to TEXAS, where I still live. My summers were spent on my great-grandparents farm in West Virginia. They lived between Wayne and Hamlin (closer to the Huntington side). I have 23 acres near Wayne, that has been in my family for over two hundred years, and that is for the most part pretty much abandoned. I have planned to move my family there, but everyone has balked, including DH. It is still my dream, but I have put it on hold, and started our little farm in South TEXAS on 10.5 acres.
Cute pictures!
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Mind you, small school is no guarantee that kids would be friends with each other. The one where I had to go… Let’s just say I consider myself extremely lucky I had a friend who stood by me no matter how much everyone else bullied me.
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I know exactly that look you describe- I ,too, get it when someone asks me where I grew up- but my happiest times were living at my Grandparents farm/ranch in rural Southern Utah. There is a freedom and a connection in such places- truly granting you roots and wings. I am happy for you that you have the opportunity to make this life for yourself and your family. I look forward to reading more of your adventures.
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Chantelle
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“It was a cold fall day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia.”
I’m not sure if you edited the article after the comment was made, but I thought I’d point it out.
I truly enjoyed this article and look forward to reading more about your quaint little town! Take care!
;o)
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You are an inspiration!
Patty
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Connie Y., Linda P., and Mr. M retired this year. Cathey H. retired last year. I can retire in a year and a half.
May God continue to give you success and happiness.
Connie Leonard
Granbury, TX
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Bill
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:-)
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I went back last year for my 30 year high school reunion and much has changed except one thing. The unbelievable natural beauty of the state. I took a drive across the mountans on old route 50 to Cheat Mountain and Cool Springs then down to Elkins on route 219 then back up to Fairmont. I had forgotten what it was to be someplace quiet. As I sat at an overlook on a mountain top looking off into the distance I realized maybe this is the place to be. I have been all over the world thanks to my dad’s air force experience and my 2 tours in the navy. From Europe to Africa, From Asia to Alaska, From Australia to the U.S. and everywhere in between and now at 49 I find my self humming the song Almost Heaven and trying to convince my wife that it might not be a bad place to live.
Her comment……. can’t you go more than 50 yards without turning or going up or down a hill??? So you can see I have a lot of convincing to do.
Thanks for this website………what a great place. Cheers……..eric
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God bless
Rose
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you did good. i m still in toronto and believe me I hate it. I have 3 small children and would love to move to a smaller town. Where are you in eastern Ontario? I love small cities and towns in the east of our beautiful province. God bless you
Rose
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Thank you so much for reminding me of the wild and wonderful times I enjoyed while living in the valley!
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I was drawn to your website by your recipe for burnt sugar cake. I am going to make it this afternoon as a trial for the cake that I will be bringing to my dad’s 80th birthday celebration. He wants burnt sugar cake for that day. Twice, at least, I have made a burnt sugar cake for him. The last one I made tasted good, but was very dry. So, when I saw your recipe, and the photos, I decided to give this one a try. I will write back to let you know how it went.
I appreciated your story here. It is moving and well-written. I hope your family continues to thrive.
Thank you for the cake information. I will write after the big taste test.
With warmest regards,
Heather
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My parents were born and raised in West Virginia..
xo,
Kim
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Rose
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Love, Light & Blessings,
Snow
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I will be back.
Blessings,Flora
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Thank you for sharing your story, you have inspired me this morning.
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Just wanted you to know that I enjoyed reading your blog post.
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Lastly, I think you are doing your kids a great service by having them grow up in this environment. I never REALLY appreciated it enough until I was removed from it for a while. They’re going to thank you someday, if they don’t already.
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Of course, the plan was always to move their with the now ex mister (after 23 years) and now I plan to do it alone – although my mountain man dad (a true legend in hiw own time AND his own mind) tells me no woman can live there alone in them kind of mountains – I just said “watch me”.
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Thanks for giving me a glimpse of what may have been.
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I adore all your recipes and am watching my 18 year old peel oranges for marmalade! You really inspire us! I am anxiously awaiting a published cookbook for our family to enjoy!!!??????? Soon?? I hope!!! Take care and happy farming!!!!
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What a beautiful solid foundation you have to teach your children from.
I spent my summers with my grandparents in a tiny N. Michigan town where I could ride my bike for miles even as young as 5 or 6. We had a “dinnerbell” at the cabin that my grandma took from the farm where she grew up. Whenever she wanted us, she would just ring the bell. You could hear it for miles (it seemed), and in this way we were never out of earshot for the call to come home. Once when there was a small medical emergency, she rang it longer than usual and many of the neighbors came to help. Also, the lane we lived on had been part of a huge tract of land where my grandfather and friends had deer-hunted for years as a wilderness in the 1920′s. It was split in the ’30′s, and these were our neighbors; his old hunting buddies. They all bought together, and helped build each others 500-600 square foot log cabins. It was like having this great extended family because by the time I came along they were friends for 40 years. Our parents had grown up together too. At 5 years old I could freely walk for several blocks and just stop and visit anyone I saw. I made friends of a quiet old man, I visited often, who told me about his whole life. You certainly would never let your kids do that today. The other old man I remember well was the guy at the corner “filling station” who would ask that I stop and park my bike, so he could take my hand and walk me across the 4-lane road over to the store where I was sent to get some milk or bread. It was the only road around that was paved. I would wait for him on the other side on the way back, until he wasn’t too busy pumping gas. He also fixed every kids bike around. I have said this to my kids all their lives: “If there is one thing I’d give you, it would be my childhood at the cabin”; many experiences that are important life lessons.
You can be proud of all that you are “offering” to your kids, as their lives will be more memorable where you are now!
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My husband and I started out in a slanted little farm house and some of our best memories are there!
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Sandra @ Thistle Cove Farm, just across the line in southwestern VA.
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Hi Suzanne, I read this post last night, and tought about it all day, and just have to add my 2 cents worth.
Everything you wrote about West Virginia, is so rich in history and family ties, as in many parts of the country. I dont know if it is me as I am getting older or just the world we live in today, but I think so many of the young folks starting out today have such high expectations when it comes to buying their first home. I watch a House Hunters program on tv–so many of the young walk into a house and right away they want a huge kitchen, stainlees steel appliances, grante counter tops, and one of the gals couldnt tell if the range was gas or electric! They want spa like bathrooms with jetted tubs, and 2 to 3 bathrooms are a must, I guess I was born in a very different time, or just didnt know what I was looking for, I was just thrilled when I purchased my first little cottage home and to me it was a palace. You can buy a house, but you make it a home, no matter how quaint or how grand.
Thanks for listening.
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As I was growing up in WV…my girlfriends always like playing with Barbies, other dolls and girly things. (I do like girly things but at heart I was a tomboy.) I climbed trees, I swung on the grapevines, I walked through the woods, I explored many neat hiding places, and I loved riding my bike and swimming. I loved anything that took me outdoors. I also played the piano and sung and did some things inside. My grandmother taught me how to sew and she also taught in a one-room schoolhouse in Salem,WV (graduated from Salem College). My three sisters, my daughter and I, just took our mother to visit Grafton, WV, where she was born. Mother’s Day originated in Grafton and we visited the Mother’s Day Shrine there.
I really enjoyed your story about moving back to WV (I have not looked over your entire website yet) and will look at it now and then as I have time. I currently have five grandchilden (I had one boy and one girl myself) and hope to retire in the next year or so to spend more time with them.
It was very good to hear that your children settled down and enjoyed living in WV. I always wanted to leave and never did but I have roots here as well. Maybe I’ll travel more when I retire.
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Best regards,
Happy Anderson
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I think Sharlee and I would have been good pals as kids. I also did all those “tomboy” things….climbed trees, swung on grape vines and explored the woods. I wonder if she ever caught “June bugs” and “Lightin’ Bugs”?
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Lynn
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I know this is an older post, but it really struck a chord with me. Thanks for reminding me about what’s important. I linked back to this from a post on my blog.
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I hungar, (scratch that) am starving for my place in the country.
It’s where I could breath, actually HEAR what I was thinking, & know with out a doubt, no matter what side of the fence you were on, people would drop what they were doing to help a neighbor in need.
And actually our people started out in (West) Virginia, before the civil war, now of course since the war, came from the “West side”….as my family would be very clear on that. ;-)
So my heart goes with you on this wonderful journey…. I only hope & dream that someday I to will be walking down that path of Knowing & living where I belong.
Love your site! Your “gathering of the english language” brings a sense of peace & joy to my soul. Thank you,for sharing your adventure with the rest of us, those longing to be on our own piece of land.
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My husband and I have moved recently to a hollow in Virginia, and though our experience has been quite different than yours, I do love our little spot in the hills. It seems you have gained great benefit by moving to a locale that has a memory of your family stamped upon its community members. In contrast, when we moved into our little country home, our neighbor stated, 3 times, all she really wanted, “was to be left alone.” Well now. There is a fine Howdy-do.
We have never felt quite so alone in any of the areas we have lived before; however, we persevere.
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Although we live in what is probably considered “suburbia” – we live a rather primitive life. My husband and I always say that we were born in the wrong era. We like the simple life and try to do things as simply as possible here. Many of the ways we do things are looked down upon, but it makes no difference to us. We homeschool our children and our expenses are low; for that we are proud.
Many blessings to you and your family.
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Please take a look at the link I am sending you. This appears to be one of your you tube videos but under a different name… With the trouble you have had in the past, I thought you would like to know…
Annie
http://www.pawnation.com/2011/02/17/funny-animal-video-bouncy-sheep-happy-dog/
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Oh…I was searching the net for a decent pie crust recipe and that is how I came across your site. I am sooo glad I did!!
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I’m proud to an AMERICAN!
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I live in tabasco, mexico….
I’m so glad to find you…
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Glad you found an awesome place to call home and for your kids to grow up…Tennessee was that for ours.
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I so enjoyed reading your story about how you moved to WV…in fact, it gave me goosebumps, as if to say that I belong there (small town setting, etc.) as well. I grew up in the suburbs and loved my life there and near the bigger cities, but have also always loved the fact that where I grew up (and where I live now) I was just a couple of minutes away from a drive in the country, if I so chose. My favorite descriptor of myself is that I’m a city girl with a country heart. It’s been interesting seeing how that has played out, especially as I’ve moved to smaller and smaller cities and towns over the last couple of years. Thanks for sharing your story! It was very inspriring for me to read!