That Old Granny Magic

68 thoughts on “That Old Granny Magic”

  1. I adore and believe all that you put so beautifully into words! We all are so magical and I am grateful I have the eyes to see that my loved doggies and loved ones are still with us 💕! You should write a book! Thank you for your magic and belief! Blessings to you and your Granny and all our loved animals and 🐾 💕 Love, Trudy Anne

      1. Tomorrow I will take a brief day trip to the beautiful mountains. I cannot say no! To breathe the air, the smell of the rich earth that beckons to me, I must go. It calls, I go! It is like recharging a fading battery. I ask that you all keep me in your thoughts as I travel to grasp a brief moment of glorious peace within! Blessed Be my sisters.

  2. I’ve had quite a few “experiences and encounters” since childhood and more so now that I’m in my 60th year. They have become more frequent since a near death experience 15 years ago. I think I have a touch of “the sight” myself and extensive genealogical research has proven that I’m not the only one of my line with the gift. But I don’t talk about it because non-believers think I’m crazy. Thank you for your writing.

  3. In early mid eighth decade this WVA native live a block from the railroad – which hasm’t felt the weight or heard the sound of a train on the rails for nearly half that time. I’ve had many similar experiences and would use the semantic of (a la physics) understanding rather than needing to justify “believing in stuff” when discussing the reality of those quality “quantum” experiences, Here’s to the trestle and the tunnel that leads to and from it!!!! LOVE/PEACE

  4. Hi I am sat in my car waiting for my boy to come out of school and reading this story. I believe everything happens for a reason and you have just given me the answer I needed.
    You see my boy recently lost three very loved relatives from his dad’s side and has the usual “What happens when you die?” questions. He is very sensitive and struggling a little with what has happened.
    Your story has really helped me try to explain death. I am going to explain to him that his two Grandma’s and Grandad are still around him just in a different energy form and will be watching over him.
    Thank you 😊

    1. So happy to hear what you are going to tell your little boy! The exact same thing happened to me when I was six and I also struggled. Though I could feel my loved ones around me years later, my mom was in a different place and scared me about death. Blessings to you!

  5. A lovely story! I love the sound of train whistles in the night. Used to hear one near my friends’ home in the country. As a child, we lived with my grandparents, and I eventually inherited the house. Grandma passed first from cancer, and it was so sad. Grandpa passed later. We could hear him walking around in the attic. My daughter once saw Grandpa (he was deceased!) looking in her room at her.
    Years later, looking thru an old family album, she pointed him out as the man she’d seen. When I had to sell my house, I told Grandpa he had to go find Grandma, as I was selling the house and he had to move on. Didn’t hear him after that. I hope he found Grandma. I miss her. My daughter used to tell me she knew when Grandma was around because the kitchen smelled like baking.
    Do I believe in the veil between the worlds? Absolutely! I left homemade cookies, a granola bar and some apple cider for Bridget on Samhain, with words silently spoken of thanks and asking for continued guidance. Blessed be.

  6. Ah, the memories !! I am 73 years old now, but I can still hear the sound of the wonderful old black locomotives that passed on the track down the road from our little farm when I was growing up. That whistle in the middle of the night. Mournful and yet, for some reason comforting. I so enjoy your writing. And I do believe !!

  7. Wonderful words! I moved back to Kentucky two years ago, after living away for thirty plus years. I can hear the trains (Louisville-Nashville) when they cross over the Ohio River about a mile away. It always comforts me, and brings back old memories, and I recognized the feelings you speak of here. When I get in bed at night, I listen for those whistles and tell my Mother and sister that I love and miss them and “goodnight”. Thank you for this post, Anna.

  8. While reading the piece, the walls faded away, the barking dogs and trick-or-treaters disappeared, and time did a dance. Thank you for the music.

  9. As always, I love and appreciate your voice. Thanks for the wonderful All Hallow’s Eve tale. I believe. After all, as you note, “it is science.”

  10. Oh how I love your words and how they transport me to my Southwest Virginia home of Clintwood. I, too, have a strong belief in that magic stuff. It has touched my life for many years. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and words with us

  11. A year ago today, my Mom was in hospital in the final stages of aggressive Leukemia. I stayed with her for hours, until she told me I had best go on home before it got too dark: 30 mile drive on back roads with deer dashing about. A year ago tomorrow, I went back to the hospital to find Mom had slipped into confusion. I sat by her bed for hours and she dozed fitfully. Then, about dusk, a train blew it’s whistle as it passed behind the hospital and — though she had been bed ridden for a few days — my Mom about jumped out of the bed in a panic. And suddenly I knew she was remembering the train that had almost hit her family’s car when she was a 6 year old girl. Every time a train passed the hospital, she was right back there in the dark and the train was whipping past their car, inches away. And I couldn’t stop the trains. And I couldn’t console her. The next day, my sister and Dad went to visit & stay with Mom for the day, but she didn’t know anyone. I was getting ready for work when I heard someone walk across my kitchen and close the door. I went downstairs and there was no one there. My sister and Dad were heading home about that time. I was at work for about an hour when my sister showed up. As soon as I saw her, I knew that Mom had passed. She had waited until they had left the hospital, and had crossed over at almost the exact moment that I heard the footsteps in the kitchen and the closing of the door. That ‘stuff’ really happens, whether some folks believe in it or not.

  12. When my dad passed (ma had been gone some years by then) I moved into the family home. Left a place at the dinner table for them both each October 31st. Now some 30+ years later living in another state I discontinued the practice because, well, it wasn’t HOME. Until I realized they are always with me and so, tonight there will be two extra places for supper.

  13. My best friend died on Sunday. I found a dime in the strangest place Monday. I’d never heard about the coins until I read this article. Very interesting and personable read. I grew up in Pike Co Ky.

  14. You made me cry. I’m old now, and I hear that same train often at night, though there are none in this area to be heard. It’s the train I heard as a little girl, snuggled between Mama-Teen and Papa under layers of handmade quilts — way back before people were told that children shouldn’t sleep with adults. It was my safe place. Now that I’m a crone, I need it more than ever — and yes. It’s “them” — they’re here. I recognize it more now than ever in my life. I was very ill in August — so much pain. And when I could doze off, I slept believing Mama-Teen was sitting beside me, her hands folded, looking younger than she did when she went. And when I’d wake, it was always with a surprise, as reality settled in and I knew I live alone now. This would also happen when I’d just close my eyes or relax. And no, I’m not addled or senile. She’s here. Sometimes that train wakes me, traveling beyond the veil I imagine, where they wait now for me, I guess. One night, I swore I heard soft voices singing above the long, low whistle. I thought Mama-Teen died not knowing that I loved her — now I know different. She’s patient above all patience. So I hope she doesn’t mind waiting awhile longer for me. For today, I’m so grateful for your Samhain post. Grateful to “them” — those who are always with me. Pleased to honor them on this, their day. Thankful that somebody else hears that train and knows it’s all real. Blessed be — I do love your website.

    1. You made me cry…..I too long for mine who have “gone” before me. They are here but it’s different. I want so much to talk with them like we used to. I send you all the love in the world!!!!!! I feel a connection to you? Love and light dear one!!!!!♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

  15. May I Share this post on Facebook please?

    On 1 Nov. 2017 5:13 am, “Appalachian Ink ~ Home of Anna Wess (and Granny)” wrote:

    > Anna Wess posted: “Last night, in the darkest of early morning hours, I > heard the call of a distant train. We all know what that sounds like. It’s > unmistakable, like the voice of somebody you once knew. I heard it just as > clear and plain as I did when I was a child, when we” >

  16. Thank you! This is especially heartwarming to me. I love your images and how you describe that frustrating word “stuff.” Yes, I know all that “stuff” too and it’s good to be in the good company of those who know what’s real. Our grannys and Ol’ Blondies are as real as we allow them to be!

  17. Great story as usual. Your first sentence startled me. I thought “Oh no…she didn’t!”. It reminded me of a time about a year ago. I live in the mountains and a train used to run down the hill by the river about a mile from here. I was outside and heard that whistle loud and clear, plain as day. That train hasn’t run in over 20 years! There are over 200 damaged sites and is incapable of supporting any train travel. Myself and my friends have also seen mysterious balls of light that can move up, down, and sideways like you’ve never seen before. Or most likely you have! Haha!

  18. There are things that happen in our mountains that people are hard put to explain but we of the mountains of the Appalachia’s don’t try we just love em like we always have !!

  19. I definitely got the goosebumps and felt the shivers go through reading this blog. Thank you for another wonderful read. I know too.

  20. Anna

    I really enjoy reading your articles. Although I grew up on a farm in Missouri, and even though my mother’s people came over by ox-cart from Appalachia prior to the Civil War, so much of what you write about I can relate to because I experienced similar customs, traditions, and explanations about things as a youngster.

    With respect to Beliefs, as in “You don’t really believe all that stuff, do you?”, as someone who is educated in, and worked with the hard sciences for over 40 years, I have spent my life trying to understand, from a science perspective, things such as “ghosts” that I experienced as a child. One of the things that this path has led me to is a better word phrase for belief, “Experiential Reality”. Something is real for a person if they have experienced it.

    If you would like to have some food for thought on this I did a little article a few years back that you might find of interest.

    Why Belief, Why Not Experiential Reality?

    http://www.smopblog.com/?p=374

    Hope you keep writing

    John R. DeLorez

    john@smopblog.com

  21. Samhain blessings. Say hello to Granny and Ol Blondie. I’ll be saying hello to a few of my family as well. Maybe not fried chicken, but something they will love!

  22. Well, now, you’ve sure set my head to spinning with this tale. You’ve also got my curiosity up. About Ol’ Blondie, I get that. Just wondering, has Granny ever mentioned anything at all about ol’ man Schrodinger’s cat? You know, that one he kept in a box all the time… 🙂

    1. Oh, my heart! That brought tears to my eyes, missing my mama and ma so much. When my mother passed over, 16 years ago, she frequented me in dreams often. The first time was actually the morning of the night she went. She’d been in a cardiac ICU unconscious for a month. She was sitting in bed with me, beautiful, but in her hospital gown. She didn’t say a word but was giggling so her shoulders shook. I knew she was on her way.

      She’d visit my dreams, always beautiful and would kiss me on the lips and I would feel that kiss. She’d tell me things I needed to know or tell my siblings.

      The morning after my hysterectomy, she was by my bed, telling me how to get up so it wouldn’t hurt. Then she leaned down and said, “We’re tough old birds!” When my eyes flew open I was looking in the same direction, but she wasn’t there.

      She comes less frequently now. In fact, she visited this week but I couldn’t understand much of what she was trying to tell me. I assume she’s learning new things and words in her astral home.

      But damn, I miss her so. I’ll be setting a place for her tonight and putting a candle in the window, though I know she knows she is always welcome.

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