Horny women in Kayford, WV

Added: Antonyo Calderwood - Date: 17.12.2021 14:29 - Views: 40738 - Clicks: 8717

Guest post by Amy Gentry. The little red-headed holler girl with freckles on her face and mischievous green eyes. Was I mean? Well yeah! The definition of mean for me was totally different from the definition of mean these days. Did I call people names?

Did I hit my Mother? Did I throw tantrums? Absolutely not…. My sister and I were mean on a totally different level. We had barbies, power-wheels, sand boxes, and swimming pools. We played in the dirt and we fought each other. We got in trouble for going farther from the house than we were suppose to. That was our version of mean. We played like one of the boys.

We had skinned knees and bee stings…. My Mother taught me how to love and how to receive love. We cut our jeans off and made shorts and played bare-footed in the yard. We swam in our pool. The neighborhood kids, my sister, and I would all get together. Kristen Shupe, Jason Bailey, my sister Crissy, myself, and many others would all pick a yard to play in.

We made our own slip and slides from mining belts or old pool liners …we made bubbles from dish detergent. Some of my fondest childhood memories were playing with my dear friend Kristen Shupe. We used our imagination… we made up games. We played tornado.. I am proud to be called Holler Girl. We are strong but gentle all at the same time. We are beautiful with rough edges. We are fearless if need be, but yet know when to run. Our husbands can track the deer, kill the deer, and drag it home….

Lots of ladies kill the deer themselves. We know how to survive, how to plant a garden, how to sew, and what it means to hang clothes on the line. We know how to live if our washing machine breaks down…. Half of us are the dish washer. We see fit that they will grow up to be strong holler girls or boys. We do not feel less-fortunate. Many of us have college degrees, are nurses, teachers, preachers and well-educated women. We just have our own way of life. This is what we are made from.

Our strong holler girl mothers raised us well. West Virginia raised us also. These mountains literally have a way of molding the person you become. I have coal slate under the skin on my knee to this day to prove it…. This place becomes part of you. When I was growing up every Saturday morning my Mama would fix homemade biscuits and gravy.

I would sit on the front porch with Daddy and usually Papaw in my gown. I can still smell those biscuits and feel that hot plywood stinging my legs…. I was only about 6 or 7 at that time, but I still remember pulling my gown over my knees to protect them from the heat on those hot summer mornings in the holler.

I would love to go back there…. Mommy worried about cooking and Daddy worried about buying the food. Our little home had a few leaks in the roof when it rained but some of my best memories were seeing my Mommy put out pots and bowls to catch the leaks. I can still hear the drip, drop, drip, drop. It taught me how much the small things mean. It made me appreciate things in life. It taught me how to live without everything money could buy. To be thankful I was warm, and that I had a Mom and Dad who loved me. I suppose you could compare those small leaks to life.

Sometimes we are so flooded with problems, small parts of our mind begin to give way and those tiny leaks occur… as you lose your temper… as you experience anxiety…. Those leaks can be patched up later. I was literally taught that not everything was obtainable by the push of a button as my dad had a T. Us kids were his remote when he was tired from working. We would turn that dial until he seen what he wanted to watch. When Daddy came home the T. I suppose in way we were taught respect through that too. After we were done helping with the T.

It was a high tower, a fort, a castle, or a play house. I can walk outside during certain parts of the season, take a deep breath, and the scent of the wind floods into my body bringing images to my mind of days more peaceful…like a picture album of long-lost dreams. Each image tells a different story of things I love. In summer I remember those mid-day thunderstorms on an 80 degree day….. I can smell the pine trees that lined my front yard and see the wooden posts my fence was fastened to. I can smell the basement of my childhood church, the coal furnace was down there, and so were our Sunday school rooms.

We use to have to wipe the benches off before we sat down. We may have got a little coal dust on us…. We were taught right from wrong. I remember those hot summer evenings heading to church. The smell of spearmint gum and the way my Mommy would whisper in my ear when I was misbehaving. We knew church was NOT the place to get silly. I smell the cool air blowing in and I remember being 15 and the first time I stood on my back porch with my 17 year old boyfriend and fell so deeply in love….

That man is now my husband…. On a cool quiet summer evening…. The lightning bugs dance atop the highest trees, gracing our presence during our camp fires and late night talks on the porch. Their small visits are much appreciated because it wont be long until they are all gone and fall will begin its inevitable descent upon us. When I was young we would make lightning bug jewelry. You took their glowy bulb off and stuck them on your fingers to make rings…. Our people may not be able to afford the most expensive jewelry but ours shone the brightest on those sweet summer nights.

Later on into the night we would retire to our beds…and most are covered in handmade quilts and fresh crisp sheets. If you have never hung sheets on a clothesline to dry, then put them on your bed that night…. No amount of fabric softener or laundry detergent can hold a candle to the scent of wild honeysuckle, lavender, and roses that grow wildly and entangle themselves on the corners of the fence. Those fragrances dance around the edges of our lives…. We sleep peacefully in our small homes as God has provided all our needs.

As autumn settles in God paints each leaf on every tree a beautiful fall hue…. We spent chilly evenings raking leaves just to run and jump in them. I have always been able to smell the seasons…though it may seem strange to some. I can step outside in late summer and literally smell fall….

I think we are so connected to the land here that we actually identify with the seasons internally and spiritually. There is a subtle magic here that roots itself deep into its inhabitants. West Virginia is a place that goes with you no matter how far you stray.

It lives in the hearts and runs through the veins of all its natives. It leaves a sore spot in the soul of many former residents. Our starry nights shine down upon us as we sleep in the valleys beneath towering mountains like millions of angels peering down in watch. The warm night air wraps itself around your body like a blanket. Nature sings us to sleep and wakes us up in the morning. To watch a storm roll in during the summer…when the sky suddenly goes from bright and sunny to violently electric in one beat of your heart. I love to stand barefooted in the grass with my children in tow….

If you look up.. West Virginia thunder storms….. When I was little everyone would jokingly say the cause of the storm was that the devil was beating his wife! These mountains are so enormous yet we are so small in that breath-taking moment when you can see and hear the rain coming…. We used to wash our hair in the rain when I was a kid…. I still play in the rain with my kids today…. A reminder that soon summer will be gone. In late winter, I find myself waiting to see the first green bud….. The first glance of white or pink on those Dogwood trees is like a baptism for the soul after long months of freezing weather and snow to your knees.

Usually everything tries to bloom too early…eager for life…. Then a frost sets in…and I watch to see if the green will survive. I watch to see if the glimpse of new life will be blighted. The majority of the time those little buds stand firm…. We stand firm even though our small corner of the world…our tiny county….

No beeping horns, only the sound of a train in the distance….. These mountains nourish the soul. This place is why I am who I am today. Growing up in the mountains is something I will never regret. When they are older and maybe decide to leave….. I hope this place is so instilled in their very being that they feel called to come back and make a small difference in the community that built them, myself, my parents, their parents, and so forth. I want to see this place boom once again…..

Once again thank you for reminding me of my childhood:. I enjoyed this to the fullest. I lived the same lifestyle you did and so proud that I did. There is nothing like these W.

Horny women in Kayford, WV

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