Christmas Wreath

 I took a class on making a Christmas wreath at the Clay County Extension Office.  Kimberly Terrell, Clay County Extension Director and Macon County Extension Agent of Family and Consumer Sciences, taught the class.

It was a lot of fun and just put me into the Christmas spirit.  Everyone in my class made beautiful and creative Christmas wreaths.  It was the first time I had ever made a wreath and I enjoyed creating my wreath very much.

Here's a photo of my wreath:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to my blogger friends.

Smoky Mountain Snow

 The first snow falling

excites me most of all.

Flakes twirl like doilies

spreading a downy blanket

across the brittle grass.

"Ma Ledford is dusting

her featherbed," Mama said

when I was a child

begging to go outside

and play in the snow.

Donning layers of clothing,

big brother Harold and I rolled

huge balls of snow and stacked

them to make a jolly snowman.

Rover yelped and stamped

paw prints on the crystalline carpet.

Sister Barbara brought her red scarf,

Daddy shared his black hat

for the fat man to wear,

Mama stuck a carrot in the snowman's nose,

my feet froze in the boots.

I looted Mama's box of buttons

and found two big ones that

she cut from Granddaddy's worn-out coat,

and gave the snowman his eyes.

Mama grabbed a dishpan,

scooped up fresh-pure powder,

I did a happy dance 

and our family savored

the delicious snow cream.

As a child, I jumped and screamed

when ole' man winter handed

out his poke of treats,

and created a magical wonderland.

            --Brenda Kay Ledford

Poke:  A mountain term for a bag.

I hope all my blogger friends will have a blessed Thanksgiving and very happy holiday.

THE POWER OF LOVE

 My mother, Blanche, and my daddy, Rondy, when they got married in 1939.

Spread love everywhere you go.

           --Mother Teresa

Far from the world,

at the Hawkins Cove during 1936,

cowbells ring in the pasture.

The sun rising like fire

over the Davy Mountain,

frost glitters like gems

in the pumpkin patch.

Chores never end on the farm.

Blanche feeds the Silkies

apple peelings and cornbread.

Alone in the coop,

she hums a hymn

and thinks about her beau.

The hens peck and preen,

she holds a chirping chick

stroking its fluffy feathers.

Gathering eggs from the nest,

Blanche carries them in a basket

Aunt Mae wove from river cane.

Trading at the country store,

she got staples, some cloth to make a dress,

and a tube of lipstick for her sisters.

Rondy is walking across Aquone

from the Civilian Conservation Corps.

On Saturday night, courting couples

hold a taffy pulling party;

a gilded weathervane twirls

on the old red barn.

                     --Brenda Kay Ledford 

Ode to the Goldenrod

 

ODE TO THE GOLDENROD

Brenda Kay Ledford

 

    Each autumn I suffer allergies.  I blame it on the goldenrod that dots the fields, meadows, and roadsides in northern Georgia.  They wave their golden-pyramid heads in the wind and herald the arrival of fall.  I think these wildflowers are beautiful, but some folks just call them weeds.

    My mama loved fall.  She said it was a beautiful season, but sad.  She was dreading the thoughts of winter coming on the heels of autumn.  She loved to get outdoors, work in the garden, and couldn't stand the thoughts of being confined indoors during winter. She occupied the long, dreary days by quilting.  I still have her quilts and they bring back precious memories of the loving hands that made the Lone Star Quilt, Double Wedding Ring, and the Log Cabin Quilt.

    I savor this colorful season in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  It seems the leaves change colors overnight.  The walnuts turn first, then the dogwoods wear red berries like the earbobs my mama wore to church.  The golden poplars, scarlet maples, and oaks join the parade with their bright banners.  The wild geese wedge over the water-colored ridgeline honking their bugles.  They give the signal that it's time to migrate down South.  

    It's a joy to catch the last glimpse of the Monarch butterflies as they gear up for their long journey to Mexico.  It's sad to see the butterflies and wild geese leave, but I look forward to the hope come spring they will come again.  It's just a temporary parting.

    Back to the goldenrod, maybe it gets a bad rep.  Some people don't get seasonal allergies.  They say if you take a teaspoon of honey each day, that will keep you from having allergies.  My neighbor lady has bees, and I get sourwood honey from her each year.  Folks suggest that you get honey locally because that works best to ward off these sneezing, coughing, runny nose spells.  

    So much for the goldenrod.  It may cause allergies, but I still think they are beautiful, bright wildflowers that add so much to this colorful season.

                                                       The Goldenrod

                     She dots the country sides, 

              and heralds awesome autumn.

Wishing my blogger friends a fantastic fall!

      

                    Blessings,

           Brenda

    

 

 

GRATITUDE

 GRATITUDE

This Labor Day, 

I am grateful 

for a multitude

of God's blessings.

The sun rising

like lemon drops 

over the Blue Ridge Mountains,

shadows dancing across

the soybean field.

A buck and his family

foraging on the tender greenery,

a fawn skipping and playing.

The goldenrod waving palms

on the crystal, crisp wind,

Joe-pye weeds lifting

lavender heads to the azure skies.

The taste of autumn,

pumpkin pies and apple cider,

trees sprinkled with cinnamon and spice;

today I am grateful.

                  --Brenda Kay Ledford  

                                                   A buck and his fawn enjoying the lovely day.

A SEASONAL SHOW

 Signs of the season are

slipping into our mountains:

a scarlet leaf rides

the wind and walnuts

pop up on trees.

A thousand sunflowers

nod their amber heads

in the meadow as butterflies

perform a beautiful ballet.

Dragonflies do angular dives

as goldfinches twirl in rhythm,

a sapphire skyline appears

like a backdrop to the stage.

An orchestration of this scene:

happiness is a butterfly

alighting when we rest.

           --Brenda Kay Ledford

As fall approaches, I wish my blogger friends a Happy Autumn!

The Persistent Trillium

 Photo by:  Bridget R. Wilson, M.S.I.S.; Youth Services Librarian; Nantahala Regional Library

Brenda Kay Ledford pictured with her new poetry book, The Persistent Trillium

Brenda's new poetry book was published by Finishing Line Press on May 16, 2025.  

The following authors wrote blurbs for Brenda's book:

Brenda Kay Ledford takes her persistent pen and poet's heart from such wrenching topics as Haitian immigrants and child labor to the joyful sounds of Mother Nature in "The Music of Maples" and "Leatherwood Falls."  --Lorraine Martin Bennett, Copy Editor, Clay County Progress

Like a suncatcher, Ledford takes the harsh light of suffering, the glare of jealousy, the burn of guilt, and the blaze of grief and loss, and transforms them, blends them, into jewels cast on the walls and ceilings of our lives.  Her approachable style makes the everyday incandescent and reminds us of the beauty even in the bleak.  --Meagan Lucas, Writing Instructor of Robert Morris University and Great Smokies Writing Program, UNC Ashville; Editor-in-chief, Reckon Review 

Brenda Kay Ledford describes the harshness of human nature.  Her image of a rock begins a sequence of behaviors that result from life's challenging encounters.  But it is the persistence of the trillium that symbolizes hope for the human spirit.  --Carroll S. Taylor, author, Chinaberry Summer

Brenda Kay Ledford's book is available at:  www.finishinglinepress.com  and Amazon.com