Aunt Butter strutted down the dusty ruts into Grasshopper Holler with her oversized shopping bag over one hand and a straining leash in the other. Her rumpled red hair was flying in all directions; she actually looked like those comic book pictures of someone who put their finger in a light socket. The only thing holding back the tangled mess of hair was an old fisherman’s hat which had once belonged to her Pappy.
The dog tugging at the leash was an old coon dog that didn’t have a real name. Aunt Butter just always called him, “That dog.”
“That dog howled again all night long”
“That dog couldn’t tree a coon if his life depended on it.”
“That dog will be the death of me.”
The residents of Grasshopper Holler just called the mangy mutt, Dog, and when they saw Aunt Butter and Dog coming down the street, old folks would suddenly be busy with other activities.
Aunt Butter is not the most cordial person and her manners are downright atrocious. She was the youngest of the eleven Foster kids that lived on Ridge Top Knob with their parents, Orville and Earnestine. Being form the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, Aunt Butter was raised like all country folk, working long hard hours on the family farm and attending school until the eighth grade.
Butter got her unusual name from her Pappy who used to love to watch the way she would eat the homemade butter Momma made every week. Her official name was Joanna Marie, but from the time she was two, everyone had started calling her Butterball. Later in her childhood, the nickname was shortened to Butter and she had been called that every since.
Her Momma tried her best to teach her the best she could, but Butter was too much of a tomboy to take an interest in cooking and cleaning. She would rather be out in the fields working with the draft horses as the fields were plowed, or helping Pappy haul hay into the barn for winter storage. She loved to be in the woods and she could name all the plants and wildlife that grew around Grasshopper Holler. Nine times out of ten, Butter could be seen with her dress tucked into her underpants as she would run after her older brothers.
Butter was fearless and she could fight just as hard as the boys. Momma was always saying, “Lord, help this child before she kills herself”. Because Butter was known to come home with scraps and cuts all over her body. Her clothes would be tattered and torn, but there was always a smile on her face. She was a child born to be in the outdoors.
By the time Butter was five, she began spending much of her time with the old widow, Flora Bottom who lived a mile up river from the foster farm. Mrs. Flora was a healer and she knew all about using herbs and other plants to make medicines for all types of illnesses. Butter loved to help Mrs. Flora mix and brew the various concoctions used in making the medicinal potions. This was as close to cooking as Butter wanted to be.
Mrs. Flora was the person who taught Butter all about the herbs and wildlife living in and around Grasshopper Holler. She taught her the names and uses of each plant and how to harvest the valuable flowers, leaves and roots at the peak time. Over the next ten years, Butter would learn all the ins and outs of healing, not knowing that this would be her calling life.
Momma and Pappy were proud of the skills Butter was learning, even if they were considered untraditional, and her talents had come in handy the time Jim Bob, her oldest brother, was attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets. Or when Ethel Mae, the middle sister, came down with a cause of the dropsy and couldn’t get out of bed for two weeks. Butter was good at making potions and poultices for any type of illness or injury.
Aunt Butter was married off at the tender age of 15, to a young farmer from Tater Knob. They lived with his family until they could build a little cabin for themselves. Butter did not make a good first impression with her new in-laws, because spoilt as she was, if Butter didn’t want to do something, by god, she wouldn’t do it. Her stubborn streak ran through her body lie the raging Kentucky River after a flash flood.
Jo Don Keller was born on Tater Knob and he was the typical farm boy, Even though he was nine years older than Butter, her parents thought it was a good match. At last Butter could talk to him for five minutes without hitting or shouting at him. Earnestine Foster thought Butter was too young to get married, but Orville reminded her that Janice Sue, one of their six daughters, had married at the age of 13.
“But Janice Sue was more grown up than Butter is now. What’s she gonna do when she starts popping out babies.” Momma worried herself into a state, but Pappy just shook his head and said, “Maybe it’ll shake her up a bit, turn her into a woman.’
So, durning the blackberry winter of 1938, Butter and Joe Don were married in a small ceremony at the Mt. Zion Church just outside of Grasshopper Holler, immediately after the service, they loaded a wagon with Butter’s meager belongings and headed for their new life on Tater Knob.
Within the first year, Susie was born and James followed along ten months later; Irish twins. Butter was beside herself with new challenges. Being the baby of the family, she had never known how to take care of a baby. Her Momma came to stay with her for a month after Susie was born to try and taeach Butter how to make diapers and feed and clean the baby. Butter remained stubborn, but she realized that she had to learn these skills; and she was a quick learner. When James was born, Momma only had to stay with Butter for one week.
Butter and Joe Don lived happily until one stormy day in the spring of 1942. They had been watching the storm brew all day, so there was a hustle in their movements as they went about the day’s chores. At three that afternoon, only minutes before the storm started, Joe Don realized that their milk cow, Daisy, had wandered off from the farm lot into the woods behind the house. Normally, Joe Don wouldn’t worry, but daisy was due to calf any day. He set out through the howling wind and stinging rain to find Daisy before she dropped her calf somewhere out in the storm.
By dusk that night, Butter knew something was wrong. Joe Don had not returned home. The worst of the storm was over leaving a gentle rain and the fresh smell of spring. When Daisy moseyed into the back lot without Joe Don, Butter scooped up her two young ones and ran to the Keller house. By the time she had run the half mile to the half mile to the house, through the woods with two small kids, Butter was hysterical.
After calming her down and settling the two kids on to a pallet in front of the fire, the Keller men went out to search for Joe Don. Mrs. Keller brewed chicory coffee and tried to sooth Butter as the two women waited for the men to return. Four hours later, they heard a ruckus coming from the barn and by the time they ran to the door, one of the younger Keller boys was heading back out with the hay wagon.
Why did they need the hay wagon? What has happened to Joe Don? All the women could do was wait and worry. At dawn, the sounds of the wagon could again be heard heading toward the house. When Butter opened the door, her mind flew into a panic. Joe Don was laying on the hay wagon, lifeless. His hair was singed near his left temple and one of his boots was missing. Butter threw herself onto the dead body of her husband and sobbed. There was nothing to be done. Joe Don had been struck by lightening and died on the spot. The bolt of electricity entered through his temple and exited through his foot.
Two days later, Rev. Sharp came to Tater Knob to lay Joe Don to rest in the family cemetery. Butter was in shock and had not spoken a word since the Keller men brought the body back to the house. Momma and Pappy came for the wake and to stay with Butter for a few days. They ended up taking Butter and the two kids back to Grasshopper Holler because she appeared to be retreating from the world.
Three years later, when Butter was 24, she got remarried to a family friend, Buck McCoy was 30 years her senior and a hard worker. He lost his wife and baby during childbirth well before Butter was ever born, and he had never remarried. Watching Butter grew from an awkward child into a sturdy mother, Buck decided to take his chances again for a family. When he asked Pappy for her hand in marriage, Butter ran out of the house and into the woods. As she sobbed her heart out, all she could think about was how old Buck seemed in comparison to Joe Don.
After a stern talking to by Pappy, Butter agreed to marry Buck because she realized she could no longer go on living with her parents. Her little girl Susie was 6 years old and little Joe was 5—they really needed a daddy in their lives and Buck appeared more than willing to accept a ready made family.
On Easter Sunday, 1945, Butter and her children left Grasshopper Holler to move to Posey Ridge—35 miles away. During the next ten years, Butter and Buck had three children; two boys and a girl. Raising five children without the help of her mother, Butter was overwhelmed, but she managed the best she could. Buck was not a loving man, but he did provide a decent life for Butter and the kids; he even treated his step-children like his own.
But tradedy was not done with Butter. In the summer of 1955, Buck was trying to repair the gate to the corral when a horse kicked him in the head. The blow to the head left Buck in a coma for six days before he finally died. Butter was alone again, this time with five children to care for.
She wrote a letter home to Momma and Pappy, but they were unable to come and help her. Pappy’s “Arthur” was acting up again and he couldn’t make the 35 mile trip to her house. So Butter managed to survive. Little Joe was a big help with the farming chores and Susie helped with the young ones.
Less than a month after Buck’s passing, Ray Adams came knocking at the door with a proposal for Butter. Ray was interested in the farmland left by Buck, but Butter didn’t want to sell. She still owed the bank not for the farm, but she didn’t want to be put out on the street with her children. Ray wanted this land badly and he began to terrorize Butter and threaten her with bankruptcy if she didn’t sell.
Finally, Butter came up with a plan. She didn’t much care for Ray, but she had already lost two husbands and she knew she couldn’t go on much longer without help. She agreed to sell Ray the farm if he would marry her and help raise the children. Ray jumped at the offer and two days later they were married by the Justice of the Peace in Posey Ridge. One week later, Butter realized she had made a big mistake.
Ray Adams turned out to be the town drunk and grade A Bully. He began to beat Butter and the children on a regular basis. He never lifted a finger to do anything around the farm, but he took all the credit for the work Butter and the kids did. He spent long hours up on the mountain top, tending his still and sampling the liquor.
Moonshine, pure grade alcohol with a kick that could throw you into the next county. Buck spent his day tending t he still and he spend his nights drinking the product When he was drunk, he would force himself on Butter and claim his marital rights. Over the next five years, Butter added two more children to her brood.
With seven children and a drunk for a husband, Butter felt like she was living hell on earth. She was too ashamed to tell anything about the beatings for fear that the law would try to take her kids away; or worse, Ray would hurt her worse than he already had. She was afraid of him and all the children learned to fear him as well.
Again, tragedy hit Butter, but this time, it was for the good. In the fall of 1962, Ray was tending one of his stills, when the entire contraption blew up, killing him instantly. When Ray didn’t come home that night, Butter was relieved. It was not uncommon for Ray to stay away from home for two or three days at a time.
After one week, Butter sent little Joe—who was now married with a wife and family of his own—and her sixteen year old son, David up into the mountains to look for Ray. They returned two days later with the decomposing body of Ray adams. No one in the family shed a tear at the death, not even his own five and two year old.
Butter and the kids managed to make it through the winter of 1962, and when the forsythia was starting to bloom the next spring, she loaded up all her belongings and her children and moved back to Grasshopper Holler. She sold the land to little Joe and his wife, and she said her goodbyes to Susie and David—Susie was married with children of her own and David wanted to remain on Posey Ridge with his brother—and headed home.
Momma and Pappy were in poor health and they had agreed to allow Butter to return home to help with the running of the farm. All Butter’s siblings were married and had moved away from the Holler, so there was no one else to care for Momma and Pappy.
As Butter settled into life back home at her birth place, her four remaining children were a blessing and a joy. 14 year old Jason and 10 year old Matthew were a big help on the farm and the five year old twins—Mary and Carey—were not much trouble. The next few years went by smoothly and everyone grew strong and healthy.
Momma died in 1973 of heart failure and Pappy never recovered. He grieved himself to death and joined his wife in 1974. Butter was 52 years old. Her children were all grown and married and she was left with the farm on Tater Knob. Most of Butter’s brothers and sisters had moved far away from Grasshopper Holler—her oldest sister even moved to New York City. Butter was the last of the Fosters living in the Holler and she turned her life back to her first true love—herbs and medicine.
She had managed to remember most of the things Mrs. Flora had taught her as a child, and soon, Butter was treating the aches and pains of some of her neighbors. However, most of the population of Grasshopper Holler was going to the big city doctor’s in Lexington.
Truthfully, the residents of Grasshopper Holler were afraid of Butter. After all, she had lost three husbands and most people thought she was cursed and just a tad bit daft. Butter had the odd habit of talking to herself and she tried to avoid people as much as possible. When she would make her trips into town, people would watch her and stare, thinking her an oddity in today’s environment.
© Bobbi Rightmyer
This week's promt from Becca at Write On Wednesday concerns writing practice
I typically write for 15 to 20 minutes every morning before work, but the bulk of my writing comes in the afternoons. I work parttime, so when I come home for lunch every day, I start writing. I consider this my second "job", though, right now, I'm not getting paid for it. Sometimes I will work on short (1200 words) articles for my monthly column, other times I may be working on one of my books.
The greatest writing advice I have learned came from Stephen King's book On Writing. He says that writers write, every day, no matter what. When I was younger, I didn't think of myself as a writer because I couldn't stick to one topic. Now, I've learned how to channel that energy to improve all my writing. It may take me longer to finish a project because of the ADD, but when I am finished, I know it's the best I can do.
Today's Booking Thru Thursday from Should Be Reading asks the questions:
Now, as an adult, I visit the Public Library two or three times a week. We got a brand new public library while I was still in elementary school, and it has already been expanded once since then. 
Rich Copley - pop culture bloggist for the Lexington Herald-Leader - made the following statement in a recent blog:
When I first heard about this incident - I took my complaints to the local and corporate McDonalds, Berea Police and city government, the governor of Kentucky, both our US and KY Senators and all the Representatives.
