My Number

 

Digital or Audible

If you have read my blog, you know the number 3 is special to me.  In particular, 333 is “my number”.  It has been a part of my life since birth.  I was born at 3:33 pm.   My mother was born in 1933.  My street address is 1333.  I have 3 sons who are 3 years apart.  For many years, when I woke up at night, the digital clock would read precisely “3:33”.  I have that number appear in my daily life continuously, whether on a receipt, an advertisement, an airline seat, a road sign, etc.  Many days, after not looking at the clock for hours, I will glance at my phone or my car clock and it will be 3:33. Recently, I have had some trouble trying to get to sleep or waking up periodically during the night.  The battery on my bedside clock is dead, and I am currently looking for an electric one to replace it.  In the meantime, when I wake up, I have no idea what time it is.  Has it been hours or minutes since I went to sleep?  Being the curious one, I simply said out loud “Siri, what time is it?”.  My phone is on the nightstand in the charger and the reply I received made me smile in the darkness.  The voice of Siri rang out: “it is three thirty-three am”.  No kidding, I thought to myself.  Of course, it is.  Digital or audible, the response remains the same.  It is “my number”!

 Tammy Harvey

4/18/2026

The Single Ramp Story

 

The Single Ramp

Spring had sprung and it was time to get the fishing boat out of the garage for a test run.  My son and I chose to take it to the Eno River to do some white bass fishing.  It’s about a 30-mile drive and the weather was perfect.  My son warned me that the place we were going to launch had only one ramp.  It could get crowded, he said, especially with the abundance of kayakers that go to this spot.  When we arrived, there were lots of cars and empty trailers in the small lot.  The ramp, however, was available and we dropped the boat into the water without delay.  The motor fired right up and purred in a soft hum as we slowly made our way up the river.  My son was aware of the fishermen already in their spots casting their lines.  He would slow down to minimize our wake when passing them then speed up in between along the curvy waterway.  After traveling a few miles, we stopped and started to cast our rods toward the bank, drifting along.  We tried three or four spots without any luck.

 At some point, my son suggested we go downstream, below the ramp site and give it a try there.  We passed the ramp and went around the bend where water was shallow.  There were many people fishing from the bank.  A fallen tree lay out over the water and rocks were piled up along the shore.  This was our spot.  I caught a stick, then a leaf, then a sweet gum ball.  No joke, there was a gumball on my hook!  My son cast into the right spot and proceeded to catch the largest white bass of his life.  It was a female full of eggs and probably weighed 4 lbs.  He was delighted as his rod bent nearly in two during the landing.  I took the appropriate photos to document the big catch before releasing the fish.  We could go home now, knowing we had accomplished our goal.  But before we left, I proceeded to get hung up in a tree limb and lost my lure.  That was my last cast.  In fact, I got hung several times on this trip but managed to get out of it most of the time.  I did manage to catch one small fish. 

We proceeded back to the boat ramp. My son pulled up to the dock, and I was instructed to hold the boat so it would not drift into the shallow.  He went to get the trailer, leaving the boat to idle.  In the meantime, a guide with his clients pulled up to the shoreline next to me.  Also, a pontoon boat came in and was idling behind me.  The river is narrow at this point, and it was becoming quite crowded.  Then it happened, a pick-up truck with 2 kayaks in the bed backed down the ramp.   An elderly man and his wife got slowly out of the vehicle and proceeded to slide their kayaks off the truck.  The wife was dressed head to toe in a black wetsuit.  No disrespect but she looked like a walking seal.  The man got back into the truck and proceeded to move the truck while leaving the two kayaks and his wife standing on the ramp at water’s edge.  By now, probably five or six of us boats were waiting.  Of course, the man had to find parking then walk gingerly back down the steep slope.  My son was proceeding to back our trailer down, not realizing that someone was there.  I motioned to him to stop.  The elderly man proceeded to leisurely take his shirt off, sit down on the dock and put on his water shoes.  At this time, the man in the pontoon yelled out “Take your time, we’ve got all day!” in a sarcastic voice.  The old man replied, “We sure will”.  He then began to push his kayaks into the water, whistling while he worked.  The pontoon driver yelled “If the game warden was here, he would write your ass a ticket” to which the whistling man replied, “I don’t think you can get a ticket for being an asshole”.  He helped his wife into the kayak, and they slowly but surely got on their way.  My son continued to back down and we loaded up.  The pontoon driver shook his head at me in disbelief of the entire situation.  He commented on how quiet our boat motor was.  My son replied he would not have left it running had he known how long it would take.  The highlight of our fishing trip was the large white bass, but the story of the boat ramp was a close second!

Tammy Harvey

4/18/2026

Appalachian Influence

 

Appalachian Influence

Being raised in East Tennessee, there are phrases that I heard growing up that are unique to the area.  I have recently been reminded of several.  For example, “lick and a promise” is a phrase I heard all of my childhood.  Recently, my son called me and asked me what it means.  His mother-in-law had used it, and he had never heard of it.  I explained it to him that it means to give a half-hearted effort.  I asked him if he had ever heard of “granny beads” and he had not.  When playing or working outside, getting sweaty and dirty, you can develop a dirty ring in the crease of your neck.  These were referred to as granny beads when I was a child and when taking a bath, we were instructed to make sure and wash them off!

Lately, I have encountered an Instagram account called appalachian_bluebird which made me aware that most of the dialect and words I heard as a child were of Appalachian origin.  Also, a fellow popped up on my feed called Appalachian Sam (YouTube).  He shares words from his Eastern Kentucky background.  Most of the words he presents are very familiar to me as well. 

A list of words/sayings (with definitions) said by my parents and grandparents when I was growing up in East Tennessee:

“poke”: a paper bag  *  “dope”: a soda  *  “commode”:  toilet *  “like it or lump it”: deal with it  * “root hog or die”:  rely on yourself  *  “mad as an old wet hen” or “fit to be tied”:  angry “tough as a pine knot”:  durable  *  “a coon’s age”:  a very long time  * “that dog won’t hunt”:  that idea won’t work * “knee high to a grasshopper”:  short * “right smart”:  a large amount or a good distance  *  “all tore up”:  very upset  *  “sorry”:  something of no value * “tighter than Dick’s hatband”:  very stingy  *  “diddly-squat” or “aught”:  nothing,  zero

“crooked as a dog’s hind leg”:  dishonest or physically not straight  *  “they lawwww”:  an exclamation of excitement *  “I swanny”:  I declare * “twiddling your thumbs”:  wasting time * “right quick”:  fast * “too big for your britches”:  arrogant * “shindig”:  party * “between me, you and the fencepost”:  a secret not to be repeated * “plum/plumb”:  totally or completely * “reckon”:  think, suppose

“buggy”:  a shopping cart * “earbobs”:  earrings * “pocketbook”:  purse * “holler”:  hollow, valley  * “fixin’ to”:  preparing * “no count”- worthless, lazy * “directly”:  later on *  “Coke”:  any carbonated drink * “yonder”:  over there * “stob”: a stick protruding from the ground *    “bloomers” or “drawers”:  underwear * “cattywampus” or “catty-corner” or “sigogglin’”:  askew, diagonally * “ill”- bad temperament, not sick * “puny”:  sick * “light bread”- white sandwich bread  * “play pretties”:  toys * “nary”:  none * “y-uns”: y’all  *  “spell”:  a while * “for the birds” or “hill of beans”:  something useless * “pert-near”:  almost

“mash”:  to press or push * “quare”:  strange or odd * “tickled”:  happy * “hot as blue blazes”:  high temperature * “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed”:  ready * “fair to middlin’”:  okay  * “study on it”:  think * “high on the hog”:  fancy  *  “I’ve got bigger fish to fry”:  more important things to do * “high cotton”:  prosperity * “jerk a knot in your tail” or “tan your hide”:  discipline * “sugar”:  kisses * “icebox”:  freezer * “stinks to high heaven”:  smells really bad *  “get off your high horse”:  stop being so self-righteous *  “I’ll be John Brown”:  disbelief  *  “kindly”:  kind of  * “devonette”: couch * “darkened the door”:  appear at someone’s residence

Tammy Harvey  4/18/2026

Maypole Dance

  Maypole Dance

It is funny how some memories stick in your mind from long ago and others are forever lost.  As May arrives, I remember being a student in the second grade.  We were taught to weave the maypole in a dance that was presented as a school program.  We were dressed in frilly spring dresses, possibly all white, with patented leather shoes and lace-trimmed knee socks.  The boys were also dressed in fancy spring attire. I don’t remember as many details as I thought I did, but I do remember performing the Maypole dance and how it made me feel.  We practiced our parts for weeks.  The pole was in the middle as we gathered in a large circle around it.  The circle was painted on the ground with each of our spots designated.  The pole was tall and had a wide base so as not to turn over.  Beautiful pastel-colored wide ribbons draped down from a circular disc at the top of the pole.  When we retrieved our individual ribbons, we formed a teepee shape.  The song was an instrumental folk song as I recall.  After searching I’m going to predict it was the “Maypole Dance by RCA Victor Folk Dance Orchestra” or something similar.  It was held outside in front of the school in the parking lot, and the song was blasted over a loudspeaker.

When the dance first started, we went in unison in and out toward the pole to the beat of the music. Then we turned and went to the left for a while and then to the right, equally spaced from each other creating a twirling umbrella effect.  At the opportune time, we began to weave the ribbons by alternating going under and then over the people who were moving in the opposite direction. Every other person was assigned to travel, either clockwise or counterclockwise, and in doing so, we caused the ribbons to braid down the pole.  It was so fascinating to be a part of this celebration as a child.  I remember being mindful about not dropping my ribbon as I raised the ribbon high over my head then lowered it. Again and again, I went under one ribbon and over the next drawing closer and closer to the pole. There were probably four Maypoles or more being woven at the same time that day as all the students in the second grade participated. 

That performance made a big impact on me.  Nearly 60 years later and I am still joyful when I think about that dance.  My current research states that it was a celebration of spring that originated from ancient pagan fertility rituals.  I suppose the Maypole dance held on May 1^st is still being practiced somewhere around the world.  I am just happy that I had the chance to experience it as a child and have it become a core memory of mine.

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026   

Farmer Hannah

 

Farmer Hannah

She fed the bunnies and the chickens too,

Just as if she knew exactly what to do,

She squealed as she rode atop the toy horse,

Dressed in her overalls and boots, of course,

She pushed the toy wheelbarrow and played in the dirt pan,

Farmer Hannah watered plants with a watering can,

With a bucket in each hand, she ran toward the pens,

Hoping that this day will never end,

If it were not for her naptime, she would have stayed,

She loves to visit farm animals and is not afraid,

She is just a little girl who is not even two,

And she knows now that the cow says “moo”!

(She first thought the cow said “pizza”.)

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026

Walking a Pet

 

Walking a Pet

Now you may think I’ve lost my mind, but I have a witness to the fact,

About something unusual I saw, much like a circus act,

Driving through my neighborhood, there was a sight to see,

My son was driving and saw it too; he could vouch for me,

We saw dog-walkers, joggers and someone riding a bike,

Folks entering the greenway trail, going for a hike,

When all of a sudden, we passed it, something I had never seen,

A lady was “walking” her pet, and it was big and green!

She carried a huge thick limb, and on the branch, it sat,

A large and exotic-looking parrot who was actually quite fat,

Now I’m not talking about a small, delicate parakeet,

I’m saying a large green parrot was “walking” down the street!

You never know what you might see on sidewalks nowadays,

Clean your glasses, pay attention, and prepare to be amazed.

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026

Springtime?

 

Springtime?

The bluebirds are eating from my feeder, and my garden flag is waving in the breeze,

Is it truly springtime, or is it just a tease?

The sun is shining brightly as the daffodils emerge,

Is it truly springtime or is it on the verge?

I’ve seen some playful butterflies and even bumblebees,

Is it truly springtime?  Please put my mind at ease,

Everything is greening out, my allergies tell me so,

I demand that spring has sprung, but heaven only knows,

In March, we may have inklings of all four seasons,

Warm then cold, then frost, then hot: we don’t understand the reasons,

Short pants or sweatshirt, what will it be?

Oh, in springtime, we can only wait and see!

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026