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WELCOME<br />

THIS IS CHRISTMAS<br />

The season is positively magical. May you have a season<br />

that is filled with warth, love, family, and friends. I hope<br />

that we may inspire a bit of magic for your season. God<br />

Bless and Merry Christmas.


“Happy, happy Christmas,<br />

that can win us back to the<br />

delusions of our childhood<br />

days, recall to the old man<br />

the pleasures of his youth,<br />

and transport the traveler<br />

back to his own fireside and<br />

quiet home.”<br />

— Charles Dickens<br />

PHOTOGRAPH BY: DAVID GUENTHER


<strong>FOLK</strong><br />

VOLUME 3 NUMBER 5<br />

CONTRIBUTORS<br />

Alice Hale Adams<br />

Leslie Adams<br />

April Ballard<br />

Ruth Barnes<br />

David Guenther<br />

Trudy Honeycutt<br />

Jen O’Connor<br />

Blake Pack<br />

Linda Reid<br />

Rikki Snyder<br />

Jaquie Wheeler<br />

Kyle White<br />

CUSTOMER SERVICE<br />

contact@folklifestyle.com<br />

<strong>FOLK</strong><br />

P.O. Box 195<br />

Beaver Dam, KY 42320<br />

INDEX<br />

4 THE WISE MEN SMELLED LIKE SMOKE<br />

8 CHRISTMAS TIME TO ME<br />

10 HEIRLOOM ORNAMENTS<br />

12 THE SIDE ROOM CLOSET<br />

14 THE EMPTY CHAIR<br />

16 PATTERN<br />

18 SUE PARKER<br />

22 THE CRANBERRY<br />

CONNECT<br />

Shop: shopfolk.us<br />

Web: folklifestyle.com<br />

Instagram: @folkmagazine<br />

Facebook: /wearefolk<br />

Pinterest: /folkmagazine


The Wise Men Smelled Like Smoke<br />

There is an old joke that asks, “Do you know why<br />

the wise men smelled like smoke?” Of course the<br />

answer is, “because they came from afar.” In my<br />

area of the country, the word “fire” often sounds<br />

more like “far”.<br />

Another version of the joke tells of the traveler<br />

passing through a small town during the Christmas<br />

season. This particular town had the tradition of<br />

displaying a live nativity scene on the city square.<br />

The traveler stopped to admire the scene and reflect<br />

on the real meaning of Christmas but found this<br />

scene to be a bit different from normal. The “usual<br />

suspects” were on display: Mary, Joseph, Baby<br />

Jesus, an angel, shepherds and even a donkey and a<br />

sheep. What made this a most unique nativity scene<br />

was the presence of three firefighters, all decked out<br />

in their bunker gear. The visitor turned to a local<br />

and inquired as to the reason for having firefighters<br />

in the display of the Holy birth. The local fellow<br />

answered, “Why, stranger, don’t you recognize<br />

them? They are the wise men.” To that, the traveler<br />

responded, “The wise men? Why are they in<br />

firefighting gear?” “Don’t you know your Bible? It<br />

plainly says ‘they came from afar.’”<br />

This leads to my small town and church Christmas<br />

pageants. No, we didn’t exactly replay “The Best<br />

Christmas Pageant Ever” with the Herdmans, but we<br />

did have a similar version one year.<br />

My hometown boasted a population of 300 in the<br />

1960’s and that figure hasn’t changed much since.<br />

Although small in number of people, there have<br />

always been an abundance of small churches. My<br />

home is Centertown United Methodist Church.<br />

Much like our town, my congregation is relatively<br />

small in number. That never hindered the production<br />

of a Christmas pageant each year.<br />

The year was about 1964 or 65, as I recall. I was<br />

about 10 years old and not quite old enough to<br />

be a member of what was then known as MYF<br />

(Methodist Youth Fellowship) so I landed a lesser<br />

role in the play. I think that was the year I had a<br />

non-speaking part as an angel in the nativity scene<br />

that unfolded as the program progressed. My older<br />

brother, Ronnie, played the innkeeper. He was 16<br />

and probably thought he had outgrown church<br />

Christmas plays and was “too busy” to bother<br />

STORY: LINDA REID


with rehearsals. The night of the production<br />

he did show up and gave the performance of a<br />

lifetime…all without rehearsals and therefore, ad<br />

lib. It was truly a great performance that nearly<br />

stole the show.<br />

Remember, I said nearly. My sister, Janet, played<br />

the role of Mary. Her best friend, Vicky, was<br />

the angel who appeared to Mary. “Hell, Mary!”<br />

As you can imagine, that had the entire cast<br />

in stitches every rehearsal. She, of course, was<br />

supposed to say “Hail, Mary!” but it always<br />

came out like “hell”. Rehearsals invariably had a<br />

friendly argument between Mary and the angel.<br />

“Vicky! The word is hail, not hell.”<br />

“That’s what I’m saying. ‘Hell’, Mary.”<br />

That went on for a couple of rounds before an<br />

adult stepped in to move forward with rehearsal.<br />

All the while we younger kids were taking our<br />

places in the manger scene at the appropriate<br />

point in the story. As most 7-11 year olds, we<br />

found it difficult to keep from giggling all the<br />

time anyway. Our angel proclaiming hell and our<br />

ad lib proficient innkeeper only gave us fodder for<br />

laughter.<br />

We made it through the acting portion of the<br />

program and then prepared for the grand finale…<br />

our youth choir concert. We prepared several<br />

traditional Christmas carols and had settled<br />

into a more serious mood. A couple of ladies<br />

had taken sheets of crepe paper and made choir<br />

robes for all the young people. We assembled in<br />

the pulpit area and arranged ourselves into the<br />

practiced formation of a Christmas tree. A few<br />

select “branches” carried small candles to serve<br />

as lights on the tree. All went well as we sang<br />

“Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night” in our<br />

best angelic voices. The candle bearers had been<br />

well coached and no candle came close to the<br />

paper robes. Since I was one of the younger and<br />

smaller singers, I didn’t carry a candle. A fellow<br />

classmate of mine, Kathy, did, however.<br />

She stood behind me and followed directions<br />

carefully. She did not let her candle get near her<br />

robe nor mine. She held it high enough to be<br />

seen but, by the time we sang “sleep in heavenly<br />

peace” the final time, her arm apparently got<br />

tired and she had lowered her candle to a point<br />

right behind my head…and a bit too close. My<br />

hair, in some recollections, caught fire. Mom<br />

played piano for us and as soon as the last note<br />

was played she saw what was happening. She<br />

quickly jumped up and “patted” my head to<br />

keep it from burning my scalp. I didn’t realize<br />

what had happened but did notice an odd smell.<br />

Although my head didn’t actually burst into<br />

flames, it did singe the hair on the back of my<br />

head enough that I had quite a bald spot for some<br />

time.<br />

Needless to say, we never use real candles in<br />

such a manner. Our Christmas pageants may<br />

not have as much flair (or maybe that should<br />

be flare) but the tradition of small town church<br />

Christmas plays continues. Strains of “Away in<br />

a Manger” and “Silent Night” often mix with<br />

more contemporary carols but the spirit stays the<br />

same. We all probably grumbled about having to<br />

be in those productions each year but I’m willing<br />

to bet every one of us will have to admit that<br />

some of our best childhood memories center on<br />

those rehearsals and presentations…complete<br />

with shepherds in bathrobes.<br />

I may not have been a wise man/woman but I<br />

definitely smelled like smoke!


Komedal Road<br />

www.komedalroad.com<br />

KR


CHRISTMAS TO ME...<br />

A reflection on changing traditions and steadfast favorites.<br />

When reflecting upon what Christmas means to me,<br />

thoughts of family and friends immediately come to my<br />

mind. I think back to a time in which excitement was<br />

true and genuine. My memories of Christmas include<br />

my family taking me out on Christmas Eve to explore the<br />

lights and sights of Christmas. We would drive around<br />

for what seemed like hours listening to Christmas music<br />

and taking in all of the lights. I thought this was magical<br />

and I looked forward to it every year. I also like to reflect<br />

upon Christmas as I envision it now and the ways in<br />

which I hope to carry on and begin new traditions…<br />

Snow is falling, friends and family have gathered, and the<br />

laughter is genuine. Gifts are wrapped ornately and it<br />

would be my hope that everyone has decided to exchange<br />

handmade gifts. I find with each passing year, that I<br />

really cling to fond memories and find so much comfort<br />

in these times. I sometimes just want to get lost in these<br />

memories. There is beauty in these memories that may<br />

seem simplistic, but that is what makes them beautiful<br />

and why I cling to them so much. The simple things in<br />

life such as laughing with family and friends, watching<br />

the snow fall, sharing childhood Christmas memories, a<br />

Christmas carol that moves us to tears, or deciding on<br />

the perfect gift really encompass the true and genuine<br />

meaning of Christmas. The department stores and flashy<br />

gifts do not mean anything compared to the love and<br />

memories that are attached to Christmas in my mind.<br />

We all have Christmas traditions that we take part in;<br />

whether it be baking with a favorite aunt, staying up<br />

late, wrapping gifts, or driving around to take in the<br />

bright lights and Christmas trees in our hometown. I<br />

imagine putting the Christmas tree with my family and<br />

deciding upon the perfect placement of each ornament.<br />

I’m laughing and talking with my family and the setting<br />

would be perfect if there was a fresh blanket of snow.<br />

However, even without the snow, Christmas still takes on<br />

a deeply personal meaning to me and makes me want to<br />

begin my own traditions to be handed down throughout<br />

the years.<br />

In recent years, I’ve started having breakfast for dinner<br />

on Christmas Eve. It just feels warm and cozy and I love<br />

the way that it brings both family and friends together.<br />

Traditions are established not because of gifts or the<br />

monetary aspects that are too often associated with<br />

Christmas, but because of family and memories that<br />

stretch across a lifetime. As I said before, one of my<br />

favorite Christmas memories is decorating the tree with<br />

my family. It may be that the ornaments aren’t perfect,<br />

which to me is real and speaks to the Christmas spirit.<br />

For instance, on my Mom’s Christmas tree every year is<br />

the paper Mache Santa Clause that I made in my third<br />

grade art class. Is it perfect and ornately crafted? No,<br />

of course not, but even more perfect all the same in that<br />

it means something to my family and reminds my Mom<br />

of the moment that I gave her the ornament as a gift. I<br />

think that ornaments often reflect life in this way and can<br />

create memories of family, travels, and people that bring<br />

a smile simply at the thought of them. I love it when<br />

simply thinking of a person brings a smile to my face.<br />

I also reflect upon a time in which I was creating art<br />

projects at school and remember the excitement I felt as I<br />

was about to give this gift to my family. This philosophy<br />

carries over into my new Christmas traditions in that I<br />

believe that handcrafted gifts mean so much more. I<br />

think of these times in my life when I long to “just be”.<br />

The phrase “just be” is something I try and remind<br />

myself of daily but sometimes it gets lost or cast aside<br />

due to the business of day to day life.<br />

However, thinking back to a time in which the most<br />

important part of my day was to create this paper Mache<br />

Santa for my family Christmas tree gives me a sense of<br />

nostalgia and I smile. I may not have all perfect and ideal<br />

Christmas memories, but I have many that I cherish and<br />

cling to and hope to create new traditions that both my<br />

family and friends will value and look forward to every<br />

year. I wish you the very best and warmest of Christmas<br />

traditions and times this year and every year. I am going<br />

to take time to “just be” this Christmas season and enjoy<br />

my family and friends and the genuine memories and<br />

traditions that we create. I wish you a magical Christmas<br />

season with those close to you.<br />

BY: APRIL BALLARD


HEIRLOOM ORNAMENTS<br />

...small holiday tokens....<br />

If we are lucky as adults, we have ornaments<br />

from our childhood to pass on to our children.<br />

If we are extra lucky, we have at least one<br />

ornament from our parents’ childhood to covet<br />

as our own. It is in these small holiday tokens<br />

that live legacies of love and triumph.<br />

My grandmother loved color. Pink and teal<br />

particularly. Style gurus of 1950’s homemakers<br />

had nothing on her. She raised my mother in<br />

a Cape Cod style house my Grandfather built<br />

high on a hill overlooking the Shetucket River<br />

in Eastern Connecticut. Her kitchen was done<br />

in teal tile, she served simple meals on bright<br />

Fiesta dishes, and baked the finest éclairs<br />

in New England. A silver tinsel tree was her<br />

signature Christmas centerpiece and upon<br />

it were hung the sweetest pink ornaments<br />

Woolworths offered. Mingled in were blown<br />

glass ornaments my Great Grandparents<br />

brought with them from Czechoslovakia. And<br />

in my Grandmother’s driveway a mammoth<br />

1955 turquoise Buick was the envy of the<br />

neighborhood. She would have to learn to<br />

drive it after my Grandfather’s sudden death<br />

when my Mom was only ten. Though years of<br />

transitioning from a homemaking queen to a<br />

single parent would bring difficulty, financial<br />

strife and resilience, that silver tree was finely<br />

decorated every Christmas as a testament to<br />

my Grandmother’s, and my Mother’s, strength<br />

to thrive.<br />

Every December, I unwrap an ornament that<br />

once hung on my Grandmother’s tree. I have<br />

only one. I hold it to the sun as the light<br />

shines through the mercury glass and shadows<br />

tiny hand-painted blue flowers. I snuck it away<br />

from my Mother’s collection one Christmas<br />

when I was home from college. These were<br />

the precious bulbs stored in a tattered box<br />

with edges secured so many times the box<br />

was pretty much tape and dust. Inside, the<br />

vintage ornaments looked like creamy curved<br />

marzipan treats peeking through time-thinned<br />

tissue paper. My Grandmother had passed<br />

away when I was a high school sophomore,<br />

before I had a chance to appreciate the lessons<br />

she often shared. This ornament is feather<br />

light, delicate, ornate in its simplicity.<br />

Just like my Grandmother. Four feet ten<br />

inches and maybe 90 pounds after a hearty<br />

meal. My Grandmother went to work in the<br />

Ponemah velvet mills after my Grandfather<br />

died. She never complained. Never cried where<br />

anyone could see. Never gave the impression<br />

that a woman needed a man for anything.<br />

Always preached love. Always practiced<br />

determination. Always shone with bright color<br />

when most other women would have faded to<br />

black.<br />

Over the years I have collected vintage<br />

ornaments to simulate my Grandmother’s<br />

collection, to hold dear the memories my<br />

Mother guards with old boxes in cedar chests.<br />

To share in the silent strengths that hang in<br />

the remains of love snuffed out too early.<br />

Pink ornaments now cover my own silver<br />

tinsel tree. And as my daughter joins me in<br />

decorating, I share stories of my Grandmother,<br />

my Mother, and the Grandfather I never knew<br />

in hopes their legacies will fuel generations yet<br />

to come. Merry Christmas!<br />

STORY: JACQUIE WHEELER | PHOTOGRAPH: LESLIE ADAMS


Read more essays by Greta + check out her biography on our website folklifestyle.com


THE SIDE ROOM CLOSET<br />

A SHORT STORY<br />

STORY: ALICE HALE ADAMS


Fannie Lee celebrated her sixth birthday in the<br />

weeks before Christmas, 1924. The excitement in the<br />

house was mirrored in her face, the joy exhibited in her<br />

inability to be still.<br />

Her mother had spent weeks preparing for<br />

Christmas. The candy was sealed in tins, pink and white<br />

divinity, chocolate, peanut butter, and vanilla fudge,<br />

and caramels. Cookies were layered between sheets<br />

of waxed paper and a coconut cake sat waiting in the<br />

cellar.<br />

December 21 st was the day the tree was cut and<br />

brought to the house. Papa chopped off the big limbs at<br />

the base of the tree. Fannie Lee and her older brother,<br />

Wellington, helped him place the tree into a bucket filled<br />

with small rocks, dense enough to hold the tree upright<br />

and allow for watering. The window at the front of the<br />

house, far enough from the fireplace to avoid sparks,<br />

was chosen as the place to show off the Christmas tree.<br />

Their house contained five rooms, a living<br />

room, two bedrooms, a kitchen and the side room, as<br />

well as a screened back porch. The front porch reached<br />

across the living room and front bedroom.<br />

Mama used a little closet off the side room as a<br />

hiding place for the tins of candy and boxes of cookies.<br />

Tall shelves hid the Christmas presents that had been<br />

purchased for the children. Outside in the cellar, along<br />

with the coconut cake, Mama had wrapped apples and<br />

oranges in brown paper and tobacco leaves.<br />

Fannie Lee was curious about hidden things. If<br />

she found herself alone in the house for a few minutes<br />

she immediately began searching for the candy and<br />

cookies she knew her Mama had made and put away<br />

for Christmas. Tiptoeing through the front bedroom,<br />

she looked in the dresser drawers and under the bed.<br />

Disappointed, she slipped into the side room, peeking<br />

behind the sideboard doors.<br />

She rarely had more than a short time to look<br />

but finally the day came when she wandered into the<br />

closet. Immediately, she could tell by the aroma that she<br />

had found the sweets. Listening for Mama, she picked<br />

through the tins on the shelves. Climbing into a chair,<br />

she reached as far as her arm would reach and felt the<br />

tin boxes on the top shelf.<br />

Joy filled her heart but she had to shove the<br />

box back as she heard the back door open and slam<br />

shut. She sauntered into the kitchen, acting as innocent<br />

as a baby.<br />

The next time Fannie Lee found herself alone<br />

she dashed into the closet, climbed on the chair, pulled<br />

down the box, opened the lid, and ate one piece of<br />

chocolate fudge. It melted in her mouth. Shivers ran<br />

down her spine.<br />

She became braver and slipped into the closet<br />

even when she was not alone in the house. She was<br />

very quiet, scooting the chair across the floor without<br />

a sound, climbing up and getting a piece of candy. She<br />

ate a different kind each time so there would be some of<br />

each left for Christmas. But soon she could tell the box<br />

was less full and she felt afraid. She put the candy box<br />

back on the shelf, vowing not to eat another piece. Then<br />

she found the cookies.<br />

She could hardly contain herself. She loved<br />

cookies better than anything, even better than the<br />

candy. It was hard to get them out of the wrapping<br />

without messing up the whole container but she just<br />

had to eat some. She took one of each kind, put them in<br />

her pocket, returned the container to the shelf, and went<br />

to the corner of the side room to eat them. They were<br />

glorious.<br />

On Christmas Eve morning, Fannie Lee began<br />

to worry about eating the candy and cookies. She knew<br />

her mother would be opening the boxes for everyone<br />

to share. Maybe it would be Christmas Day before they<br />

would eat the sweets. Would she get a whipping?<br />

Much to her relief, Christmas Eve night came<br />

and it was time to go to bed. The cookies and candy<br />

were still on the shelf in the little closet. But with the<br />

excitement of Christmas and being nervous about eating<br />

the sweets, Fannie Lee couldn’t sleep. For a while, she<br />

cried. Then she decided she wouldn’t be in trouble since<br />

it was Christmas and she felt good and excited. It wasn’t<br />

long until she cried some more.<br />

She pretended to be sleeping when Mama<br />

came to her bed. She didn’t move at all, although it was<br />

hard to be still.<br />

Soon after Mama left the room she could hear<br />

soft noises coming from the direction of the Christmas<br />

tree. Could it be Santa? She just couldn’t stay in bed.<br />

She crept as quiet as a mouse across the floor to the<br />

door, which had been left slightly open. The lamp was<br />

burning in the living room, making big shadows that<br />

willowed like ghosts on the walls. Fannie Lee was<br />

scared, but not enough to make her go back to bed.<br />

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw her Mama<br />

hanging presents on the Christmas tree, a little truck<br />

and a bag of blocks for Wellington, and for her a blue<br />

lamp with a clear glass chimney. It was just the right size<br />

to sit on the table in her playhouse. It was perfect.<br />

Fannie Lee didn’t think she could be any<br />

happier when, to her surprise, Mama tied a doll on the<br />

tree. It wore a blue checked dress and small black shoes<br />

and white socks. It was the most beautiful doll she had<br />

ever seen.<br />

She watched as Mama went to the closet to<br />

get the candy and cookies. Fear gripped her chest.<br />

Mama opened the boxes. Fannie Lee heard her sigh and<br />

watched her shake her head. Mama spread the candy<br />

and cookies on white plates, sat them on the table<br />

beside the tree, and covered them with a clean cloth.<br />

Then she went to bed.<br />

Fannie Lee hurried to her bed. She stayed<br />

awake as long as she could, thinking of the doll and<br />

lamp. It only seemed like minutes when Wellington<br />

woke her up to come to see what had been left for them.<br />

They gathered their presents from the tree,<br />

jumping up and down and squealing. Mama and Papa<br />

sat in their chairs by the fireplace, watching.<br />

After they settled down to play with their toys,<br />

Mama passed around the plates of cookies and candy.<br />

When she handed them to Fannie Lee, she winked at<br />

her and smiled.


THE EMPTY CHAIR<br />

AN ESSAY BY RUTH BARNES<br />

I open the door and walk past the empty chair.<br />

The chair that my Father sat in. As I walk into<br />

my Mother’s kitchen, I am still very aware of the<br />

empty chair. Everyday, until one year ago this past<br />

October 2, 2013 when I would open the door, my<br />

Father’s spot was a chair next to the front door.<br />

He would have his hat on and a lot of times his<br />

sunglasses. Sometimes he may have on two pair of<br />

sunglasses, one of those being on top of his head!<br />

He would hold up his hand and give me a high five<br />

and we would laugh!<br />

I walk back into the living room and stare at the<br />

empty chair, and try to see him sitting there, and<br />

I can. I smile and go over and sit in the chair and<br />

try to remember and I do. I can sense his presence<br />

and feel him in my heart and soul, and I know he<br />

is there.<br />

As the Holidays approach us, there is also sadness,<br />

that my Father will not be in his chair or sitting at<br />

the head of the table for our Holiday Dinner. It is<br />

an odd feeling, a void, and also an awareness that<br />

he is with us in spirit.<br />

For all of us that have lost a loved one, I believe<br />

the holidays are the most difficult. We think,<br />

how can we go on without them? How can we sit<br />

down to our Thanksgiving and Christmas Dinner<br />

festivities and celebrate? Everyone has their own<br />

way of dealing with the loss of someone they love,<br />

and mine is to celebrate my wonderful memories<br />

of him and know he is in a better place.<br />

My mother sets his place at the head of the table,<br />

and I now take that place. I feel his warmth<br />

streaming through me and his loving arms around<br />

me, as tears roll down my cheek, and he wipes<br />

them away and tells me, I am here and I am good<br />

with my soul.<br />

We gather in the living room in front of the<br />

Christmas Tree as we hand out the beautifully<br />

wrapped packages. There is a gift under the tree<br />

and the tag says, “To Dad”. We place the gift upon<br />

his chair and say, ‘he would love this”.<br />

My children deliver the packages to each person, a<br />

tradition in our family that was started a long time<br />

ago. They are now 24 and 19, but they still enjoy<br />

the tradition of handing out the gifts. The paper<br />

and bows start to fly as everyone opens their gifts.<br />

The laughter and joy fill the room as we celebrate<br />

this Christmas day with family and friends.<br />

I look over at the empty chair and smile, and<br />

my Father smiles back at me, and says, Merry<br />

Christmas!


Bathe Well.<br />

DOE<br />

Organic Soap<br />

www.portlandgeneralstore.com


CREATE<br />

A HOUSE BECOMES A HOME<br />

// 68 //


PATTERN<br />

TRUDY HONEYCUTT<br />

WINTER DEER<br />

Learn how to make these country-style muslin deer.<br />

The deer - a family of mammals that<br />

includes the common deer for many of<br />

us, such as white tail and mule deer,<br />

but also includes larger members of the<br />

species such as elk and moose.<br />

This deer is just a primitive deer,<br />

representing the deer family, but not<br />

intended to be specific to any one<br />

type!! It’s a <strong>FOLK</strong> deer! I believe he<br />

will take us through many seasons,<br />

including Winter, but on into Summer<br />

and beyond as well. I can see him<br />

displayed in some fake snow with some<br />

bottlebrush trees for a winter or holiday<br />

display! Have fun with him, reduce and/<br />

or enlarge the pattern to make a family<br />

of deer.<br />

I made my deer from muslin, but you<br />

might want to use another fabric. I like<br />

to wash the muslin first, to remove the<br />

sizing, but that is an optional step. Trace<br />

the pattern onto doubled fabric, and<br />

use the tracing line as your sewing line.<br />

Leave open where indicated, and then<br />

trim to about an 1/8th to a 1/4th inch,<br />

trimming closer in tight curved areas.<br />

Turn, clip all around, and stuff with<br />

your choice of stuffing. I use polyester<br />

fiberfill, but there are other options out<br />

there. You might even try some sawdust<br />

for a very early style primitive deer.<br />

your deer’s main body piece is fully<br />

stuffed, close the opening by hand. The<br />

ears and the tail are not stuffed. Once<br />

turned right side out, tuck the open<br />

edges in just a bit, and hand stitch in<br />

place onto the body and head of the<br />

deer. I used very small stitches, but<br />

since this is a primitive item, you might<br />

prefer a more visible primitive stitching.<br />

I grunged my deer using a mixture<br />

of strong coffee, tea, vanilla, and<br />

cinnamon and baked the piece at a<br />

low temperature, turning frequently.<br />

Line a cookie sheet with an old towel,<br />

cover with parchment paper, and watch<br />

carefully. If your climate allows, and<br />

there aren’t too many birds, you can dry<br />

your piece outdoors in the sun.<br />

After the deer was dry I sanded with a<br />

fine sandpaper, and stitched the eyes<br />

with some black embroidery floss.<br />

The antlers are little sticks that you<br />

might find in your garden or yard. Mine<br />

were actually from some rose bush<br />

trimmings that I had allowed to dry<br />

well. Make a little hole, drop a tiny bit<br />

of glue, and push the sticks into the<br />

stuffing until stable.<br />

Feel free to email me if you have<br />

questions or comments. theheadcrow@<br />

aol.com<br />

I like to stuff firmly, especially in the<br />

small areas like the nose and feet. After<br />

TRUDY HONEYCUTT | CROWS IN THE ATTIC


SUE PARKER<br />

A HAND CRSFTED SEASON—A PEEK AT REPURPOSED TRADITIONS<br />

Traditions are kept by the certain magic of<br />

sharing them –whatever “they” might be —<br />

among family and friends. By imbuing a holiday<br />

with them, a collective memory of the annual<br />

event is passed along the generations in taste,<br />

color, song and story. Traditions evolve as they’re<br />

enjoyed in familiarity; the best nod to all that’s<br />

fresh among those that share in them, with<br />

something new added each year.<br />

More than any other American holiday,<br />

Christmas is tethered to childhood through a web<br />

of memories. Many of our fondest recollections<br />

are fragranced with yuletide’s annual treats,<br />

those fancy cookies and lovely cakes that beg us<br />

still to indulge each season. Along with those<br />

home baked confections, carols and of course,<br />

gift giving form the cornerstones of so many of<br />

our holiday traditions.<br />

So, while the season simply wouldn’t be as fond<br />

in memory without the scents and tastes we<br />

know and adore, there’s another truly handmade<br />

tradition to note. Each year, amongst the platters<br />

of sugar cookies, eggnog and rum drenched<br />

tortes, chances are there’s something handmade<br />

that’s serving to set a mood as holiday décor, and<br />

has been used as such for some time!<br />

It’s often these decorations that are touchstones<br />

in memory; they’re the handmade something<br />

that comes out of its box in basement or attic<br />

year after year to stand sentinel to the season,<br />

again and again. The object – whatever it is --<br />

becomes dearer as the years accumulate along<br />

with the patina of age.<br />

You must know something like that… something<br />

you recall from Christmases past and still might<br />

see on your mother’s hutch, mantle or Christmas<br />

dinner table?<br />

For me it was a small hand-carved wooden Santa<br />

I played with each Christmas as a little girl. He<br />

slid down a thin spring only for me to pull him<br />

up and drop him time and again with his sack<br />

of toys into a flocked paper chimney. He was<br />

special to me because I played with him year<br />

after year while he was out of his storage box<br />

and displayed on the coffee table. I adored that<br />

this tiny handmade decoration waited for me,<br />

much like I waited for Christmas each year, a<br />

child truly smitten with the season.<br />

PRODUCED BY: JEN O’CONNOR


Most of us – even if it was a decade or<br />

two ago – have made some kind of holiday<br />

decoration and kept it from sentiment.<br />

Or maybe what we treasured most was<br />

something handmade and given to us as a<br />

gift …something for the home or tree that<br />

reflects the season and its sparkle.<br />

Indeed, crafting for the season was<br />

de rigueur in the earliest of modern<br />

Christmas celebrations. The idea of gifts<br />

or decorations being mass produced and<br />

widely available is something that has<br />

come late to this largely handmade holiday,<br />

and seems to miss the festivity’s spirit.<br />

As gift giving emerged as a tradition<br />

in Germany, Austria and soon after in<br />

England, the dark evenings of fall and<br />

early winter were spent making special<br />

treats by hand to gift loved ones. Early<br />

American celebrations followed these<br />

Western European ways, and small wooden<br />

trinkets, knitted things and hand cut paper<br />

whimsies were all common gifts to present<br />

as tokens of love and friendship at the<br />

holidays. How perfectly wonderful to still<br />

share something handmade; a simple gift<br />

from the hands is a gift from the heart.<br />

As we reach to preserve and refresh the<br />

tradition of handmade and add to our own<br />

Christmas memories, nothing could be<br />

more fitting for the holiday than the freshly<br />

repurposed crafts from Skippy Doodle<br />

Designs of Columbia, Connecticut. Crafting<br />

maven and designer Sue Parker concocts<br />

the sweetest of holiday décor from castoffs<br />

and vintage loot. In her merry and able<br />

hands everything from recycled cigar boxes,<br />

forgotten tree-trimming paraphernalia and<br />

even tinsel fragments find new life on her<br />

one of a kind assemblages.<br />

Indeed her studio reflects the North Pole<br />

as she merrily combines textures and<br />

objects creating a crop of new holiday<br />

décor that simply suits the season’s folly<br />

and joy. Among her favorite techniques<br />

are marrying disparate castoffs in color to<br />

tell a new story. In her able hands and with<br />

a dose of festive imagination, an oddball<br />

1950s paper house might meet up with<br />

a lonely reindeer and become something<br />

more fitting in a frenzy of mica drenched<br />

snow. Likewise, a wayward elf finds a new<br />

home among vintage bottle-brush trees<br />

and wee tarnished bells. Her pieces each<br />

tell a story of Christmas past with a nod<br />

to the freshness of recycling and renewed<br />

crafting traditions.<br />

Handmade things hold all the joy<br />

and sentiment with which they were<br />

created. Season after season they can be<br />

visually relished, and then tucked away<br />

to keep the good memories in store for<br />

the next holiday. So, if you don’t have<br />

something handmade around the house<br />

to help celebrate the holiday, consider<br />

the handmade spirit of the season and<br />

reach for something – or gift something<br />

-- that can become dearer as it holds the<br />

memories of each annual celebration.<br />

<strong>FOLK</strong> would like to thank Sue Parker for sharing<br />

her festive handmade creations with our<br />

readers; her work is presented exclusively at<br />

EarthAngelsStudios.com and at their Art Girls’<br />

RoadShow events and appearances.


GATHER<br />

SHARING THE TASTES OF AMERICA<br />

THE CRANBERRY<br />

A PRETTY, LITTLE, FESTIVE FRUIT<br />

If you had to narrow it down to just one, where<br />

is your favorite place to be this time of year?<br />

Perhaps it’s in a field of Christmas trees, wearing<br />

boots, jackets and scarves with a saw in hand<br />

while you examine and take turns with your<br />

family members on deciding which is the best<br />

tree to cut down. Or maybe it’s on a neighboring<br />

doorstep with a group of loved ones holding<br />

candles and singing Christmas Carols. It may<br />

even be on a snowy mountain with skis on your<br />

feet getting ready to plunge downhill.<br />

When I asked myself this question, I only had<br />

to think briefly before I knew my answer. For<br />

me, it’s simple- in my parent’s kitchen, baking<br />

away, dancing and singing to our menagerie of<br />

Christmas CD’s like the Nutcracker soundtrack<br />

or, of course, Michael Buble’s Christmas album.<br />

Every year my mom asks me, “So what cookies<br />

are we going to make this time?”, even though<br />

we always end up making the same ones. We’ll<br />

mix in a new one every now and then but really<br />

there’s nothing quite like tradition. We are<br />

bakers. I’m always asked why or how I started<br />

photographing food. I just chuckle and say, “If<br />

only you knew my family”. At any given day this<br />

time of year you can find us in sweatpants and<br />

sweatshirts, my mom wearing the same green<br />

knit and my dad in his ‘vintage’ red Christmas<br />

sweater with a silly Christmas tree on it, baking<br />

away, splitting up tasks and making delicious<br />

food. Even now, this early on in my life, I know<br />

that moments like these will one day be my<br />

fondest memories, if they aren’t already.<br />

No other ingredient screams Christmas quite like<br />

the cranberry. It’s a pretty, little festive fruit.<br />

Tangy and sweet. Full of nutrients and grown<br />

in what I personally think is one of the most<br />

fascinating ways. It holds such versatility- it<br />

stands strong in salads, drinks, desserts and<br />

savory appetizers alike.<br />

STORY & PHOTOGRAPHY: RIKKI SNYDER


CRANBERRY PEAR CRISP WITH<br />

CINNAMON STREUSEL TOPPING<br />

5 peeled, cored Bosc pears<br />

1 cup frozen or fresh cranberries<br />

1/2 cup sugar<br />

1 cup all purpose flour<br />

1/2 cup soft butter<br />

1/2 cup brown sugar<br />

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon<br />

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Toss pears,<br />

cranberries and sugar in a large bowl. Let stand<br />

for 15 minutes before transferring mixture to<br />

an 11x7x2-inch glass baking dish. Combine the<br />

remaining four ingredients in a medium bowl,<br />

using your hands to evenly mix. Sprinkle over<br />

fruit in dish. Bake for 45 minutes or until streusel<br />

topping is golden. Serve warm or cool.<br />

CRANBERRY MEATBALLS<br />

2 pounds ground beef<br />

1 teaspoon parsley flakes<br />

2 Tablespoons soy sauce<br />

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder<br />

1 cup uncooked quick-cooking oats<br />

2 eggs, beaten<br />

1/4 teaspoon pepper<br />

1/4 teaspoon salt<br />

1/3 cup catsup<br />

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Roll into<br />

2-inch balls, arrange in a shallow baking pan. Bake<br />

at 350 degrees F for 25 minutes. Drain and spoon<br />

sauce over meatballs and continue baking for 15<br />

minutes. Makes about 36 meatballs.<br />

Sauce- Whisk together all ingredients in a medium<br />

bowl<br />

16 oz. Can jellied cranberry sauce<br />

12 oz. Bottle chili sauce<br />

1/2 cup brown sugar, packed<br />

1 Tablespoon lemon juice<br />

CRANBERRY CASHEW SALAD<br />

1 1/2 cups dried cranberries<br />

1 quart white wine vinegar<br />

4 or 6 thyme sprigs<br />

Peel of 1 lemon cut into slices<br />

1 bag of mesclun mix<br />

1 cup cashews<br />

8 oz. Package crumbled bleu cheese<br />

For dressing:<br />

Combine 1/2 cup dried cranberries, white wine<br />

vinegar, thyme and lemon in a glass bottle. Cork<br />

and place in a sunny window for 2-3 weeks.<br />

For salad:<br />

Combine remaining 1 cup of dried cranberries,<br />

mesclun mix, cashews and bleu cheese in a large<br />

serving bowl. Pour over dressing, toss and serve. If<br />

desired, top with grated lemon peel.<br />

SPARKLING CRANBERRY PUNCH<br />

3 Tablespoons sugar<br />

12 whole allspice<br />

3 cinnamon sticks<br />

8 cups cranberry juice<br />

3 bottles ginger ale<br />

In a saucepan over high heat, combine sugar,<br />

allspice, cinnamon sticks and 2 cups cranberry<br />

juice. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 10<br />

minutes. Cool and refrigerate. In punch bowl,<br />

strain cranberry mixture, discarding spices. Add<br />

remaining cranberry juice and ginger ale. Makes<br />

about 16 cups. Tip: serve with orange sherbet for<br />

an extra delicious punch treat.<br />

— rikkisnyder.com


HI, I’M KYLE WHITE. I’ve been making pictures for a little over a year and love to shoot mainly<br />

film. I’m currently in Utah which provides many great scenic opportunities to make good pictures.<br />

These shots were shot with a my trusty Nikon F100 35mm film camera coupled with a 85mm 1.8 lens.<br />

The Nikon F100 is fairly cheap, easy to use, and widely known for being a solid film SLR. To me film is<br />

worth the extra time and effort since it produces art like results that match what is in my head while I’m<br />

taking the shot; in essence, my vision.


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PHOTOGRAPH BY: BLAKE PACK<br />

“Winter is Coming no. 3” shot with a Nikon f100 50mm lens, Kodak gold film.


B R E N T W O O D ~ C O O L S P R I N G S ~ L E I P E R ’ S F O R K ~ N O L E N S V I L L E<br />

Stories as unique as you are.<br />

AN ESSAY<br />

GRETA MCDONOUGH<br />

A New E<br />

L I S A F O X , O W N E R<br />

L E I P E R ’ S C R E E K G A L L E R Y<br />

FIND YOURSELF IN OUR STORY.<br />

V I S I T F R A N K L I N . C O M<br />

The New England of my memory i<br />

drenched and sandy lobster-boile<br />

summer. Spring break, 1978, saw<br />

Jo, heading north of the Mason-D<br />

as any self-respecting college stud<br />

Our destination was Boston and i<br />

the whole of New England had b<br />

twenty-seven inches of snow less t<br />

We had a free place to<br />

Plans were made, my bo<br />

packed to the gills, and with a bor<br />

headed out for Boston, Marblehe<br />

where we would stay in a carriage<br />

cousin, the artist. We looked at a<br />

what with the distance and our tim<br />

should drive straight through, a dis<br />

1100 miles.<br />

If youth is wasted on the<br />

brains are not.<br />

We had a few problems<br />

unfortunate stretch of the Pennsylv<br />

three in the morning where both o<br />

and running on adrenaline, hallucin<br />

creature running across the road, a<br />

Groton, which cost us we time. We<br />

hours later at her cousin’s carriage<br />

from Abbot Hall and the Willard p<br />

’76.”<br />

There he fed us sandwic<br />

romaine lettuce and avocado and<br />

no longer in Bowling Green, Kentu<br />

foreign and sophisticated that, hon<br />

myself and my coarse ways from t<br />

among us.<br />

Which would be just abo<br />

encounter in the next six days.<br />

Jo’s cousin was older and<br />

who made his living at the time by<br />

structures. He assured us it consiste<br />

My name is Lisa Fox and I’m the owner of<br />

Leiper’s Creek Gallery. I’ve been in Leiper’s Fork<br />

for 11 years. Initially, I was sent to paint a mural for<br />

Aubrey Preston and was here for six months. While<br />

I spent time here, I fell in love and did not want to<br />

leave. I would hang out at lunch with everybody at<br />

Puckett’s and talk about mending fences and chasing<br />

cows and just absolutely fit in because I grew up on a<br />

farm. And I was a painter so I loved the countryside<br />

and painting the countryside. When it came time for<br />

me to leave it was evident that I just belonged here.<br />

Aubrey had remodeled an old Gulf Station building<br />

and asked me if I would run it as a gallery. I never<br />

expected to do any such thing. I was scared to death,<br />

but I took it on and it’s been a learning process<br />

ever since. Every day is a new day. We really have an<br />

awesome stable of artists, some of the best local artists<br />

around and I’m really proud of that.

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