Brasstown

Maybe you’ve heard of Brasstown, NC. We are famous for our legendary New Years Eve “Possum Drop”. I’ll leave it up to you to Google that.

We are also home to the John C. Campbell Folk School, which is what lured me here.

The call to come home started out as a whisper. I thought I could stomach leaving my sophisticated life now and then for the sake of art in the Folk School bubble. I began to take classes once or twice per year. It had been 15 years since I’d walked though the mist listening to birdsongs. It felt good to be back. Delightfully, the paths there led me to gorgeous meals and state-of-the-art studios. This, I could do!

I started to notice that the Folk School not only offered me an artistic-retreat vacation, it also gave me language to re-define who I was as a child of Appalachia. I began to hear the old-time music with new ears and I felt a sense of pride replacing my need to hide my upbringing.

At the conclusion of a class in 2008, I stayed while the campus emptied. I walked the trails one last time before the drive home and landed on Olive Campbell’s front porch. I sat in the place she must have all those years ago and I swear that a metaphysical root grew from my spine into the earth. That was when I knew that the change must come and it wasn’t waiting any longer.

Soon after that morning of the 2008 presidential election, I was gifted with a group of soulmates. We had all arrived in much the same way, knowing that it was time to shift focus, grow into our truer potential and create our art.

So between cups of wine and potluck dinners, we did just that.

From left to right – Donna, me, Gale and Julie.