Flowers of the Mountain

The small family had been living like this for months on end – how could Mae not step in to help them?

- Andrew Shaw

The breeze whipped through Mae’s hair as she sped down the hill. Throwing her head back, she laughed, taking her bare feet off the bicycle pedals and flying even faster through the green fields on either side. She was miles from home, but she didn’t care. It was her last day at school and the whole summer was ahead of her.

Panting, she started up the next hill, pushing down hard on the pedals. Then she stopped on the ridge at the top and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun. All around were rolling hills, stretching to a hazy blue horizon. And again, a smile broke across Mae’s face. She felt so lucky to live in this beautiful corner of Tennessee.

Her father Frank had recently moved the family here from the neighbouring state of North Carolina.

It was 1935 and the Great Depression was biting hard. Frank and his wife Joan were struggling to keep a roof over their heads. So Frank had jumped at the offer of work in a timber yard in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains.

On the day of their departure, the children – Mae and her younger brother and sister – had been excited to start their big adventure, piling into the back of their father’s truck. All their worldly goods, in battered boxes, were crammed into the trunk, or tied to the roof. Then they had trundled off to their new life in Possum Hollow.

They’d soon settled in to their neat little wooden house on the outskirts of town.

And for the first time in years, Frank felt the knot of worry in his belly relax. His family had food on the table and somewhere warm to sleep.

They may not have much, but they were getting by. And the thing that Frank and Joan were determined to make happen was that their kids should get a good education. Things were going to be different for Mae and her siblings.