My family from the mountains of Southeastern Kentucky were farmers and coalminers. They were a hardy bunch that worked by the sweat of their brow, and the strenght of their back. Grandpa Combs was farmer until he came to N Ky. to find work in the steelmill in Newport. But the hills of Kentucky were in his blood, and he and grandma bought land for a farm on Elsome Creek. They would plow the fields with mules, and clear with cycle and blade.
Grandpa Hall was a farmer,and coal miner. He owned over 400 acres on Mill Creek, and the old homestead was off Hall's Branch. From family history he was killed in coal mine just up the hill from our old Hall homestead in November in 1941.
This is the old Hall's place.
Since coal and grain runs thru my veins,it could explain my love for this place. In a world where things are so crazy some times. I long for the peace that this place brings. I am beginning to understand why others that have roots in this soil return again and again. Even with its rugginess there is also such a peace. By looking around it is not about having more than the Jones, but a sense of your neighbor is family, and probably is. These mountains are from a simplier times, and it is a place time has almost forgot.
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