Letters from Asheville & Beyond: “Enfin le Printemps”

Part Five: “Enfin le Printemps”

Dedicated to James and Patricia Benton Perry, Harold and Mamie Lou Morris Benton, Frank and Lucille Depew Perry

Letters From Asheville & Beyond


Dear Nicky,

My sweet grandson, I’m sorry it has been so long since I’ve written you a letter. But as you know, I’ve been busy moving! Thanks to my cousin Shelby and a bunch of people from our Sunday school class, me and my stuff that didn’t get bought at the yard sale got carted from Columbus County to Weaverville in no time flat. I stayed in an apartment for a little while until I could see about getting my house sold. It wound up that Mr. Hollis bought it for his no-count nephew, so the Lord only knows what’ll happen to your poor departed granddaddy’s homeplace – you’ll have to keep a eye out being right there down the street from it. But it don’t matter, I guess, either way. I’ve got a different life now and am betting on my new place at the condos near Lake Louise in Weaver-Vegas.

Speaking of Hollis, now that it’s getting close to Easter, did he ever take his sign down from Thanksgiving? DONATE A DEER FOR THE HUNGRY – BIG, LITTLE, YOUNG, OR OLD WE TAKE ‘EM ALL. I remember seeing that sign in January and thinking about how no matter their age or size or past or present, there’s something for everybody who’s brave enough to get on the road, try new things. Hollis’s granddaughter Brittany did that and is in California now! I’m so proud of her, and proud of myself. I’m 75 and happier than I’ve been in years.

One reason I feel so good is I have a group of women friends, and we go into town to do a lot together. Other day me, Eva, and Jenny all jumped in the van and rode to a bookstore called Malaprop’s in downtown Asheville. Christina had told us that her favorite writer, a feisty Appalachian mountain woman named Lee Smith from Grundy Virginia who is now world famous, was doing a reading there and I was excited to learn something new. All I can say is: WOW! That Lee Smith, Nicky… she’s sassy, funny, smart as a whip, don’t care what anybody thinks, can tell a story like they’s no tomorrow. Best of all she’s just herself.

Lee read some parts from her book Guests on Earth which takes place in Asheville, and then somebody hollered out asking her to read a piece from another one of her books called Fair and Tender Ladies. Well, Lee laughed at that and then one of the Malaprop’s people gave her a copy of the book they had for sale – it came out in 1988, Christina told us – and when she read about the main character Ivy Rowe’s daddy dying, I cried big old tears that wouldn’t stop. I cried and cried some more. Here’s my favorite part that Ivy says:

“For Daddy had loved the spring. He used to plow and hold the plowed earth to his face, he loved how it smelled, I recall him doing that when I was not but a little thing…He used to take us way up on the mountain in the wee early spring to tap a birch and get the sap, he cut off a big piece of bark for us to lick the inside, it tasted so sweet, I recall he said to me one time, Now Ivy, this is how spring tastes. This is the taste of spring.”

It was silent for a little while. Then everybody clapped for Lee, I wiped my eyes, bought the book, got Lee to sign it, had my picture made with her, and I’ve been reading about Ivy day and night ever since. Fair and Tender Ladies is so good, I can’t put it down.

After our Malaprop’s adventure Christina had the idea to start a book club over at the condos. I’m excited about our first meeting. She got me set up on the email and, knowing I liked that spring part in Lee’s book, sent me a message with a picture of daffodils popping up in her yard over near Flat Creek. The words Christina wrote in the email were, “Enfin le Printemps.” Nicky, did you take any French classes in high school? I didn’t, but over at Joe and Paulette’s house later we talked about what that meant. “Finally, spring,” Paulette said. “That’s the translation.”

It’s finally spring, Nicky. Just when I thought I’d reached the winter of my life, them daffodils came out and I can taste the birch tree sap and I know I have come home.

Much love to you and your mama,


PS – I’ve got my guest room all set up in the condo. Come see me for Easter and we’ll walk in the mountains and sing Ivy’s daddy’s words like a church hymn. “Slow down now, slow down. . .this is the taste of spring.” Enfin le Printemps.

Post by Ellen J. Perry. Photo by Hugo G.

Letters from Asheville and Beyond: “We Take ‘Em All”

Letters From Asheville - We Take 'Em All

Welcome to “Letters from Asheville and Beyond: A Fictional Journey into Western North Carolina” by Ellen J. Perry. This is Part One: “We Take ‘Em All” dedicated to Brittany Garcia.

Dear Nicky,

Other day I was driving around some country roads to see the sights (I do this a lot since your Granddaddy died last year), took a wrong turn, and thought I was lost for sure till I saw old Mr. Hollis’s sign and knew I wasn’t far from home: DONATE A DEER FOR THE HUNGRY – BIG, LITTLE, YOUNG, OR OLD WE TAKE ‘EM ALL. I knew Mr. Hollis wrote this because he gets up that project every Thanksgiving through Christmas and then forgets to take down the sign after. So there it was in the middle of January, leaning over on one side about to fall down. It looked wobbly, kind of like me, unsteady on my feet. Your grandma has got OLD like some of them deer.

I stopped my van and tried to prop the sign back up a little bit, thinking maybe Hollis would come for it before too long. I read the words again… “big, little, young, or old.” We take ‘em all. And then I got to thinking about what the doctor told me, said he didn’t want me doing much, needed to watch myself since I sprained my wrist this summer by falling off the Frisbie twins’ tire swing. Plus he got real fussy when I went down that slide at the playground too fast and like to broke my hip. Take it easy, he said. Slow down. Take it easy, my foot, I said! I’ve got a whole lot of stuff I want to see and do. Joanne down at the Triple A office gave me a North Carolina road map when I went in there with my cousin Shelby who’s planning a cruise for her and Ralph’s anniversary (I wouldn’t go on a big boat for nothing but Shelby can’t wait).

I go on little adventures every day like to Triple A or the old mill and that garden up by the cemetery. Then I try to follow doctor’s orders and rest a little bit, watch The People’s Court in my recliner and trace lines on that map, thinking about where-all in N.C. I might could go. When I was a little girl, a long time before your mama was born, my aunt and uncle used to take me with them to the mountains in the summer, way on the other side of the state. I hadn’t left Columbus County till then. All I knew was sand and heat. But that cool breeze up there in Asheville, ooh-wee. I never will forget it.

So I’ve decided to go on a road trip. You showed me how to use Facebook and all that but I think I’ll just mostly write letters or postcards to tell you about it. Shelby is going with me but only because she’s worried the van or me, one, will give out. (I’ve told her and told her how slick that slide was, but she won’t hardly believe it, said I was acting up like a kid.) When I went to get my wrist splint check-up this morning the doctor frowned a little bit when I told him about my plans. Said, “Now, Myrtice.” He don’t think I can do it, but I’ll show him. I’m 75 but not dead yet. There’s something for everybody in the mountains – big, little, young, or old.