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The Rose-Path Pattern

The Rose-Path Pattern Connie Higdon Laura Dean taught me to weave in the summer of 1974. I was twenty-two, just out of college, a Vista volunteer longing hill people created a single community versing the state line and boundaries of the purple hollows thundering with white rivers and the hymns they sang--reedy and untuneful, at first, to my ear. Laura told me she had worked in this of resource and need in Union, trans- to find some meaning to and frail. She religion or culture. great blue-green hills, my life. She in common but the They had little else was seventy-six, upright worked at a government-funded craft center in Union, a tiny community strad- dling the state line between West Virginia and Maryland. I was assigned to the center as her assistant. I had asked Vista for a placement in West Virginia because I loved a man who had loved the Appalachian country. I saw him in Chicago as I made my way east on an airless Greyhound bus. He'd told me months before I didn't matter to place for thirty summers. Her people were Baptists, but she believed in the Mennonites' efforts to encourage women in the area to build http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

The Rose-Path Pattern

Higdon, Connie.
Appalachian Review , Volume 19 (3) – Jan 8, 1991
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Connie Higdon Laura Dean taught me to weave in the summer of 1974. I was twenty-two, just out of college, a Vista volunteer longing hill people created a single community versing the state line and boundaries of the purple hollows thundering with white rivers and the hymns they sang--reedy and untuneful, at first, to my ear. Laura told me she had worked in this of resource and need in Union, trans- to find some meaning to and frail. She religion or culture. great blue-green hills, my life. She in common but the They had little else was seventy-six, upright worked at a government-funded craft center in Union, a tiny community strad- dling the state line between West Virginia and Maryland. I was assigned to the center as her assistant. I had asked Vista for a placement in West Virginia because I loved a man who had loved the Appalachian country. I saw him in Chicago as I made my way east on an airless Greyhound bus. He'd told me months before I didn't matter to place for thirty summers. Her people were Baptists, but she believed in the Mennonites' efforts to encourage women in the area to build

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1991

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