Just what do you do with antique dolly clothes that were so delicately hand made over a century ago? You press them with lavender and dress up a vintage teddy bear.
This sweet 15 inch jointed bear (unmarked) has lots of love left to give. You may buy her for $65.00 which includes shipping: Click on photo to see more details and purchase this one of a kind- sweetheart. 
Gold Hill, North Carolina is a small historical town just east of Salisbury. In the 1800’s it was a thriving gold mining town, then the Civil War broke out and the mining community slowly reverted back to farming.
However, and like I say there is always a ‘however’ in my stories. There were a lot of untimely and mysterious deaths, let alone the number of men that died in the Civil War. So this being said, it became almost a ghost town.
We owned a cabin there for sometime and it was not uncommon to see ghostly images, hear unnerving sounds, and see phantoms caught on video or tape. ,
The village is now a tourist attraction and host cute little shops. It is open most week-ends and special events. If you want to see ghost or step back in time you might book a stay in Gold Hill. Our cabin is now called the “Key Kabin” and is a little bed and breakfast owned by David and Tina Barrett. For more information: www.keykabin.com
We decided to check out the legend of Booger Hollar in Stanly County, North Carolina on Saturday. There were few odd things at first glance, but I brushed them off as just coincidental.
First, just as I opened the car door, I almost stepped on the snake waiting for me.
Then I noticed the path was scattered with old shoes. “The boogers must have gotten those people first,” I joked to my husband.
But, since I had never heard of anyone being harmed by the so-called ‘boogers’ I asked him to drive off and I walked down to the bridge alone.
The old folklore varies a bit, but this if what I had been told: The creek and forest surrounding the one lane bridge is inhabited by a range of magical creatures from little hairy men to fairies. My instructions were: In order to get a glimpse of these creatures you must sit very quietly on the bridge and wait. In my past ghost or booger hunting I have learned that the eye’s mind can only absorb so much. So, I took a number of photos aiming at the unknown.
When my husband returned, I got back in the car, reported that I had seen nothing, but enjoyed my peaceful little jolt with nature.
However, and there is always a ‘however’ in my stories, when I got back and blew up my photos— below are my findings. Boogers or fairies please draw your own conclusions.
See the fairy face and hand to the left. Above her a long nosed creature.
In all these photos it will take you a few minutes to focus on the image. Fairies and boogers are good at hiding.
There are number of odd things about this photo, but the two on the left stand out. I highlighted them with red stars. Look at the image under the rock. Do you see more?
For this shot my camera actually zoomed in on the flashing eyes in the top left corner cave. On the right is a little man sitting in another cave. From all the images I took the Boogers look sort of like raccoons, but clearly are not raccoons.
See all the eyes top left and strange man/creature in cave.
One of the photos I took showed movement, but it was blurred. This is the same angle as above. You now see more creatures are stacked up watching me. Looked at the creature laying down in the upper right cave and the strange image on the lower left.
Lastly I think the creatures of Booger Hollar must be Trump supporters because this was written on the road. Happy Haunting!
I am asking all my fans, friends and follower to help in this Mission. With your help we can raise at least $100,000, to help the Lumbee Indians who have suffered greatly from the effects of Hurricane Matthews.
Pembroke-Pumpkin Patch Mission:
Save your pumpkin seeds and send them to their mission. Next year they may be the pumpkin capital of the world!
Send pumpkin seeds or any package of seeds (and if able a $5.00 donation): to:
Union Chapel Harvest Ministries: P.O. BOX 2699, Pembroke, NC 28372
(add a note: Pembroke- Pumpkin Patch Mission)
PLEASE SHARE
Until November 1st, I will donate $10.00 from the sale of my book “Carolina Rain” in an effort to help the Lumbee Indian community in Robeson County, North Carolina who have been devastated by the effects of Hurricane Matthew.
Before Matthew hit, Robeson County was already one of the poorest counties in North Carolina and they need our help. Purchase “Carolina Rain” and make a $10.00 donation.
Order my best-selling historical fiction novel now, just click on the book cover.
Thank you.
If you prefer to make a direct donation send check to: Union Chapel Harvest Ministries: P.O. BOX 2699, Pembroke, NC 28372
An old Irish folk tale goes something like this:
Once upon a time there was a boy named Jack. He was the meanest boy in the village. He lied, cheated and was a known thief. As mean as he was, he was known far and wide for his wit and clever trickery.
One day when Jack was walking down the path through the woods (most likely up to something) he ran into the devil. The devil told him he had come to claim his soul.
Jack said, “Okay, I will go with you, if you can prove you are who you say you are.”
Then Jack quickly pulled out a little wooden box from his pocket. “If you are really the devil then you should be able to make yourself small enough to fit into this box.”
The devil hesitated. So Jack, laughed, “Just like I thought—you are not the devil,at all,” Jack said, and started on down the path.
But the devil called him back, “Very well, I accept your challenge. Set the box down on the ground and watch!”
In a cloud of red smoke the devil disappeared. Jack sprang onto the box, closed the lid and locked it with a key. The box began to rock and tumble, but the devil was trapped inside.
“Now, I will bury you deep in a hole where you will never be able to bother me again,” Jack said.
“The devil cursed and cried out to Jack. “Oh, but the box will rot and I will be set free and then the first thing I will do is come for you!”
Jack scratched his head pondering on how many years it might take for the box to rot. If there was a lot of rain or snow, it might not be so very long.
“Alright Devil,” Jack said. “I will make a deal with you. If you agree to never claim my soul. I will set you free.” The devil agreed and the deal was bound. Jack went about his way for many years doing the things a mean boy does.
Then one day when Jack was old and gray, death claimed him. Heaven would not let him in and according to the bargain the devil could not accept him either.
So since that day, Jack has roamed the earth.
Now as you know, Halloween night is the thinnest night of the year. There are many holes which the supernatural and spirits can pass through to the material world.
What if the devil came calling at your door? He would be sure to turn away if he saw Jack was already there. He would never want to be tricked again.
So, if you don’t want the devil at your door, best carve a likeness of Jack on your pumpkin and set it on your porch!
This week I visited a little mountain town in North Carolina sitting in the valley of three creeks. A traveling priest in 1842 named this beautiful spot: Valle Crucis-( Latin for “Valley of the Cross). A popular story is that the land was traded for a dog, a rifle, and a sheepskin in the late 1700s. Before the Civil War in 1851 Henry Taylor, settled in the area and opened up a small general store known as The Taylor and Moore Company.
He built his home across the street which also served as a boarding house. In remote mountain towns the general store was essential to the people’s survival. It was a place where the locals bought and traded things like eggs or ginseng for sugar, bolts of cloth and shoes. These stores often became the hub of communities, the post offices, gathering places for musicians, town meetings,and from time to time served as home for the doctor’s offices. After Mr. Taylor died in 1899, William Wellington Mast purchased the store and expanded it to carry everything from cradles to caskets.
Valle Crucis was once a popular stop for those traveling on the ‘East Tennessee and Western North Carolina.” The train station is now known as Tweetsie Railroad.
I enjoyed visiting The Mast General Store and the old home place which still stands across the road. The store is privately owned and is a prime example of a by gone era.
Eerie Story: Today we were up in the NC mountains looking for a story and we got more than our money’s worth.
It was a cool morning and we were heading out to locate the spot known for the ‘Brown Mountain Lights’ for future reference.
On the road we stopped to admire an old farm house and take a few photos of the house and the horses. I could not resist petting the horses, but was soon distracted by a truck pulling up behind me. I turned to see my friend Debbie was already engaged in conversation with the old man in the truck.
Seeing this has a chance to learn the history of the old farm house I quickly abandoned the horses and joined her.
The man said his name was Tony Wilson, but that was not his real name, he changed his name when he moved to the mountains some 50 years ago. He said his real name quickly, it was Italian, but he refused to repeat it or spell it. Strange- what was he hiding from way up here in these hills?
I asked him about the house and learned it had been moved to that spot by horses and wagons in 1910. It was built for the Hamptons, who owned the funeral home.
Interesting enough, but when Deb asked if he had any problems with bears that is when it really got interesting.
The old man squinted his eyes and whispered, “Not bears, but the ‘killer’ is what worries me. I never go out of my house without my 224 or my shot gun.”
Deb and I looked at each other and then we encouraged him to tell us more. He told us that about a year ago, around 7:30 in the morning he was on his way to the barn, when he spied the ‘Killer’ in a low creeping position stalking 5 of his horse.
The ‘Killer’ according to him, was broad through the shoulders and chest, but narrow and lean toward his hunched up backside. He had long wiry black hair dusted with white spots. He reported the creature was at least 6 foot long with a long powerful tail.
He said it was obvious the ‘Killer’ was an experienced hunter, hungry and prepared to make a meal on at least one of his horses. In desperation the old man begun to shout at the creature and it raised its ugly head given him only a brief look before it ran off into the woods.
I asked him if he thought that the creature might be the illusive black panther or painter told about in mountain lure. He denied that it had any resemblance to a cat, nor to a man.
Since that time people on the mountain have reported domestic animals missing, and finding half-eaten carcass of horses, cattle and deer.
True or False, I will not be camping on Brown Mountain. Oh, by the way he said the little dog’s name was Satan.
