Dave and I faithfully attend the Springs Folks Festival in Springs, PA each year.
Always the first full weekend in October, this celebration boasts excellent crafts, demonstrations and food. Patiently pushing my wheelchair, my dear husband takes us to Bread from the Hearth where the fresh-baked bread comes slathered generously with butter and/or apple butter. The crusty outside crunches just prior to the squishy warmth exploding on the taste buds. OK, so that’s breakfast. Amazing isn’t it? Just producing, preserving and cooking food occupied so many hours for a family. Sausage went into the smoke house; tapped maple trees yielded syrup that had to boil for hours.The entire family pitched in to insure enough food occupied the larder to get them through the winter.
After scanning the food exhibits, we headed to the trail, definitely not terrain for a wheelchair. At times, Dave turned me backwards and tipped my heels to the sky so we could make progress. We watched men guide shingles through a saw one at a time, while another man wielded an axe to create split rail fences, a few inches at a time. Native Americans stood at a smoke-filled wigwam, reminding me of the primitive homes people lived in during the harsh winters and humid summers. That led my thoughts to clothing. We buy off racks; settlers started with flax, made linen and then stitched quilts and clothes by hand. Quilts took months but when winter came, people appreciated the layers of quilts
When time allowed for fun, out came
the fiddles, banjos and guitars. Soon Appalachian Clogging kept up with the beat of the music. Add to that the haunting sounds of the hammer dulcimer, and you can hear the pulse of the woods that calms the heart and draws it toward the Maker of all. This weekend you can find us at the Maryland State Fiddle Championship, just soaking in the culture the surrounds our ridge.