Yesterday as I was sorting through my snippets, listening to the wind howl, and thinking spring couldn’t get here soon enough! I remembered another winter day a few years back when, while having similar thoughts, I wrote the following:
No matter where you roam here, through hollers or over ridges, you will find jonquils growing. Usually the cabin is gone or turned into a hay barn, the stone "chimbley" has tumbled down and the well's gone dry, but the jonquils still bloom.
How many years ago were they planted? No one knows. But they are enduring, just like the first people that settled these hills. They came and stayed when roads and electricity, telephones and yes, even the Internet didn't exist.
To raise a family in these surroundings a woman must have had character, strength and stamina. I'm sure every spring after the long dreary winter ended, the sight of the blooming Jonquils must have lifted her spirits and given her hope to carry on.
How many years ago were they planted? No one knows. But they are enduring, just like the first people that settled these hills. They came and stayed when roads and electricity, telephones and yes, even the Internet didn't exist.
To raise a family in these surroundings a woman must have had character, strength and stamina. I'm sure every spring after the long dreary winter ended, the sight of the blooming Jonquils must have lifted her spirits and given her hope to carry on.
From that “seed” of an idea, and a lot of time and effort, in between everyday life and chores, grew Jonquil Junction’s Blog, Facebook page and Etsy store.
First a bit about the name. We live in the rugged Ozark mountains, and like I said in the snippet above, scattered about all the old home places the jonquil’s still bloom each spring.
Every spring after the long dreary winter ends, the sight of these long ago planted blooms still brings a smile to our face and gives us hope to carry on just like those women who planted them so long ago.
I wanted a place where we could all meet :
Junc-tion n.) An act of joining; A place or point of meeting
A place to find ‘country wisdom’ , unique crafts, recipes, and memories of a simpler time.
When people told stories, still wrote in cursive, put puzzles together, made quilts, crocheted and braided rugs, raised chickens, goats, pigs and a garden.
Along the journey I’ve found I'm not the only one who loves these cheerful harbingers of spring!
I’ve heard stories from women in Florida and British Columbia that would love to grow them and have them come back reliably like we do, but due to their climates, they just enjoy them in pictures most years.
And from a lady who plans to replant as many times as needed, in spite of her neighbors goats removing them from the ground bulb and all! ((Those of us who own goats know there is no such thing as a ‘goat proof plant’! ))
From a teller of folk tales ,why he thinks there are so many scattered about in our neck of the woods. As the story goes ‘back in the day’ when the farmer went to town to get his field corn, potato starts and such the feed store owner would throw a few jonquil bulbs in for the ‘lady of the house’. What farm wife with a bare yard and no money to spend on flower seeds is going to turn that down!
So we are this far into our journey, wondering where it will take us next, and what wonderful story or memory will be shared with us next........... Won’t you come go with us and see where it leads?
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