The White Witch of Hominy Ridge
Blossom's granny gave her the cold frames one spring
when the ground was nicely warmed
and Granny's vegetables and herbs had safely left the nursery.
Blossom, all of three years old,
grew the finest crop of yard salad Granny had ever seen.
Dandelion, purslane, chicory, and chickweed
turned indignant calyxes to the word "weed"
and their faces to young Blossom's loving hands.
Blossom got a notion one day,
when Granny's cabin had been for ten years hers alone,
to have a fireplace outside for smellier concoctions and summer canning.
She set a jar of goldenrod and asters on the porch table,
rubbed lemon balm along her arms and fingers,
shook her hair loose to autumn's whimsy,
and watched the stonemason Tom stride up the path.
His eyes held years of turning toward the light
and both shirt and soul smelled clean.
She touched his hand in greeting
and knew an image true and strong
of a tow-headed boy toting a grubby fist
of bruised violets and crumpled daisies
with "For you Momma" pride.
Several years later Blossom and Tom hosted their annual
chicken pox camp for those that got it and those that need it.
Boys and girls aged up to nine joined the couple's energetic three.
Red splotches and irritated itches
were entertained by Blossom's "Kitchen Dance with Baby on Hip",
The girls baked dubious cornbread and over applied oatmeal poultices.
Tom enthralled the boys with stories of bravery and foolishness.
Blossom had a smidgeon of the second sight
just "feelins" as she called it, not enough to be particular.
Still, neighbor's babies seldom came that found her unprepared.
One year a cold hard dread curled tight inside her.
She worked feverishly throughout the seasons,
harvesting white willow, yarrow, coltsfoot, mullein, and mint,
laying up the strongest of her, tinctures, decoctions, dried leaf, and teas.
That winter arrived with influenza, pneumonia, and at its waning, cholera.
Blossom, long beyond ragged exhaustion, nursed through them all.
She crept, and sometimes crawled on icy trails to get to neighbors.
Then, oh god then, Tom came to bring her home for her own.
At the end there was nothing she could do but give to three small graves
her Lizzie's doll, her Tommie's knife, her Caleb's storey book.
In the one large grave she buried her heart, and her hopes, and her dreams.
Granny Blossom wore her wayward hair French braided in a long white rope.
She figured she'd been up on the ridge about as long as anybody knew.
She cackled at the young botanist from the college hard put to keep up
to the secret hollows where the rare Indian Pipe and pink Lady's Slipper grew.
Her "pets" were familiar to all who came to call,
from Sally Ann the goat, to Tawanda the wolf spider in the wood box.
She still knew the names of every child that visited.
Each spring would usually bring the lovelorn, looking for a potion,
come to the white witch of Hominy Ridge.
To them she only ever gave advice.
She'd brew a pot of perfumed tea and listen to an overflowing heart.
"If he doesn't see you, he's not the one", she'd say.
"There's no drug honey, to force a love,
and would you truly want that if there were?"
Her botanist friend found Granny Blossom up in the star gazing field
one day past the Persied meteor shower.
He would have sworn her eyes were still full of stars
as he gently closed them.
Her hair fanned out in a stream that mingled with the morning mist.
One hand held a small stone, bluebird painted and signed, "Love, Tom"
Granny Blossom, he had a strong feelin', had not gone on alone.
Author notes
johnboywaldron.googlepages.com/WWHR.htm
Written February 16th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 38 of 38
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A magical narrative poem, that allows enough of the truth to be shown to be true, and still whet appetites for more. Love endures, and every living thing embodies love. Well done!
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Fantastic!
What a tender, well-written story of a lifetime of love. I feel like I know Granny Blossom. Thank you for sharing your vision with us.
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Incredible, truly a Fantastic poem I love it! =)
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That was really awsome
it was so detailed and so full of emotion...it really touched me -
very sad write so full of pain
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Truly Enjoyable
I loved this story. You incooperated such knowledge of the plants and herbs and then reminded us that love can't be coerced...it must be given freely. I hope to read more of your writings. Pen on... -
I clicked and didn't know it would be soooooooooooo long so I'm leaving a comment because I don't think it's nice to click on a featured write and not leave a comment but I just don't have the attention span to read a story right now or ever really. Sorry.........
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Nice work
This is a really good poem, and has left me wanting to meet both Granny Blossom and Tom. Can you tell me how I get to Hominy Ridge please?
Thank you for introducing Granny Blossom to us 
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You have created a little fairy tale here, sweet writings!!
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This is fantastic. I love this piece. Speaking as a "white" witch myself, thank you for telling a little of the truth, whether you meant to tell this particular one or mot.
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A lovey story you have written in poetic form - such a sad tale with a happy ending really - together again. Easy to read and understand.
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Never! Not once, did this ever cease to amaze me! Now I must take my shower. Perhaps it will mask the wet I have already in my eyes.
Nicest short story I have ever read, Mariposa.
Good for you!
John Johnson
PS Happy Mom's Day! -
This was looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong it never ended. A little long for my attention span. But hey, you pulled off a great poem here. Awesome work.
-Tyler -
i loved this- it has the feel of a grandma telling you a story... and i loved the subject matter too, though i may be biased as i mess around with herbalism myself
i will definitely be reading more of your stuff -
a classic write
I ran through this tale with such anticipation, it carried such
deep feelings and sadness mixed with joy of this grand lady;
how classic your write , full of color of its subjects and
the magic you wove here , of potions and fields of mystery.
I will walk through this tale again and savor all the deepness
of the heart and soul you put in it.
A true enchanting quill.
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This is one of those stories you can get out and read to adults and children with the same enthusiasm. To be looked at many times over the years. Marked as a favorite. You know that book with your favorites in it. The long dead flower would be left at this page for easy reference when friends had grown quiet and run out of conversation. I hope you get the picture of my excitement about this write. RC
Edited on Apr 05, 10:50 p.m. because 'spelling'. -
Oh. How sweet, and sad, and...good! There is wisdom in this, and it goes along with the telling. I can see her grow up and grow old there in that hollow, her and Tom; and I don't think she went on alone either. Just beautiful...
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I was intrigued by the title. I like witches and I was not disappointed here. This reads more like a story than a poem to me. I think you should adapt it into a full length story. I think it would be very good as such.
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EXCELLENT
This is a wonderful piece full of images, smells, and sounds. It brings a wiatful smile to one's lips as they read it. You are a true story teller. I am so glad your friend talked you into re-entering it for those of us who haven't been in AP all that long. You should concider making it into a book, and then publishing it. I really liked it. thank you.
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This was fun to read. I appreciate your style of work. It took me back to memories of my granny.
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Incredible
Wonderful! I am green with envy, I wish I had your talent! -
Bewitching
Truly a bewitching story although I must admit I did scratch a little during the chicken-pox festival. The visualization brought the sites, sounds and smells alive.
The lemon balm is wafting through the air right now. Thank you for story that comes alive -
i absolutely love it! I know that isnt exaclty what you want to hear. but i have now critique it is absolutely splendid. a story that is so greatly presented. that is all i can say. i will have to check more of your work out. thank you for sharing
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awesome.
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this is an amazing story and its written so that it seems so poetic and graphic that you really had a hard time distinguishing between story and poem.
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Interesting story. I like it. Sad, but with a very real feel to it. strong emotions and images. keep up the good writing
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Wow! This was such a beautiful write, full of imagery and wisdom and magic. I loved the way you told a story with a perfectly penned poem. Well done. Keep up the good work!
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The bestest thing I've read in a long time! You took me to a sweet place full of love and I thank you for it! Where did you get this amazing story? Is it real?
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wooooooooooooow very long one this is very cu tkeep it up
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Very tenderhearted and graphic imaging was wonderful. I felt as if i was in the story/poem with the white witch, experiencing it as she did. Wonderful job.
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What an amazing ability you have to tell a fascinating story, and create such captivating characters... and to make me cry! I would love to know where you get your inspiration... your work astounds me... reading it is so satisfying, it’s like reading a whole novel, condensed perfectly into a few short stanzas... you manage to recount someone’s whole life with such detail and yet so concisely... and I love the smooth transitions you make between stanzas and eras alike... what a skilful and knowledgeable writer you are!
I am going to put a link to your work on my author page... I am that impressed by it!
Louise ..
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brilliant poem
gosh damn, excellent, this is really fine writing, and touches the heart with nostalgia -
This is very long!!!
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Excellent!
This is an awesome write!
I see a lifestyle that many would envy here,
I for one have the yearnings of such...
the ridge, will have seen many a light fade
from eyes that had shone under a night sky,
as they looked upon a galaxy as it sat there
just being.
Breath pouring from lips,
as they parted in awe,
having known a lover's kiss shared.
Plants as they pushed their heads
from beneath earth's soil,
coming into leaf,
then flowering in the full flush of nature's bloom...
plants that have cleansed the skin,
have cooled many a fevered brow during sickness.
Only the wise in the knowledge of humble beginnings
will have touched the cloak of such a morning mist.
Bravo September Butterfly
~Katie~
Edited on Feb 17, 4:10 p.m. because ''. -
Thanks for your lovely comments too!
John -
FANTASTIC!!
This is fantastic! I've never read anything like it. I'm so happy you reposted it. I will definitely send others here. This is so touching and has such a familiar feeling to it. It made me remember Granny Ott who lived next door to me when i had the chicken pox. I'm constantly amazed when I run over pieces like this here. This should be published! -
A life well lived.
Ah yes! This is also one of my favorites. I still have an audio of you performing this one with just a touch of hillbilly twang. The White Witch of Hominy Ridge still creates strong emotion in me even though I've read it many times. A full and well lived life.
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Absolutely lovely! I like how it sits right between poetry and prose... (given I've never been a fan of rhyming)...
I like the images you painted with the White Witch... it seems like a life I would lead, honestly. ::laughs::
Excellent job and keep up the good work! ~Kolfinna
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