07/15/2026
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Diary of a Crazy Old Lady in a Little Appalachian Town, Green Spring, WV
Good Morning, Diary.
I hope this finds you well. It’s been a strange week, and we’re only halfway through it. The heat is back with a vengeance. Even though the humidity isn’t making you feel like you’re sitting in a sauna, the heat index over the next few days will make you want to crawl into one of these mountain caves or stay in the river just to breathe. My choice? Indoors with the AC. And get this—there’s no relief in sight. No rain, no cooler temperatures until maybe the weekend, and honestly, even that doesn’t look promising. I sure hope we get some rain with all this heat rolling in.
It’s July 15, 2026, 5:30 a.m., a Wednesday—hump day in the hollow. Heavy gray mist is hanging low across everything, and it’s awfully quiet this morning, like the whole place is struggling to wake up. The trains have already gone up the track, and even that rooster in the distance is keeping quiet this morning.
I’ve been struggling to get to sleep the last few days and waking up earlier than usual. Two weeks ago, I couldn’t stay awake—dozing off the minute I sat down. Now this week, I can’t fall asleep at all. I’m used to getting my rest; it’s part of how I manage to get anything done. Good sleep habits matter, especially for seniors with chronic health issues. Rest does the body good.
Truth is, good sleep is sometimes more important than daily exercise. The body heals itself at night, and rest enhances that—especially as we age. With MS, sleep can be a battle. I take melatonin, but even that seems slow-acting lately. Tossing and turning, waiting for my old bones to finally give in… it’s not normal for me, and I don’t know why.
Yesterday I got down to the Rest Area and finished the trimming and weed-eating. Monday, I took Buttercup down and let her do her thing, then went back Tuesday to finish. I was struggling, but I’m trying to get Green Spring looking as nice as possible for the weekend. In many ways, it’s embarrassing to bring people here.
I also cleaned up around the Community Park sign. Someone put a bunch of signs around that corner, and what did someone else do? Threw them in the ditch. I cleaned all that up. And you know what I hear? “I’m not cleaning up someone else’s trash.” So now what? I do it alone and pray I can keep it up.
I wish more people cared. Some of us hate the trash, but many don’t care at all. After years of dumping and neglect, it’s out of control. What a way to greet newcomers. Sad, isn’t it? I wish folks would care about this place. Picking up trash is easy, but after years of letting it go, it’s going to take work to get our community back. All it takes is people caring and taking action. I can only set an example and hope it attracts others. I do see small changes, but why this town won’t take strong action still beats me. It goes against everything I know about our long history.
This weekend at the Green Spring Farmer’s Market, we’ll host our first food truck—Open Kitchen. I’m excited. They’re from Maryland, and it cost me $72 to get them here for a temporary food permit. No discount for being a nonprofit, no consideration for trying to improve our station here in the county. Seventy‑two dollars. And not one food truck in Hampshire County stepped up to support us. They ghosted me. But they sure show up for food truck day in Romney.
I hope this draws people here. Without attention from the public, we’ll never have a better future. Every dollar I make from ice and cottage goods goes right back into Green Spring. If we’re ever going to improve, the county has to see us differently—but all I keep hitting are roadblocks and people whose only agenda seems to be slowing me down or stopping me. Amazing, isn’t it? I know where most of it comes from. People have been making a lot of money off our demise, and they aren’t willing to share a thing.
After decades of neglect, once families quit visiting and people started leaving, it didn’t take long for us to go downhill. Everything I’ve done over the last seven years has been like pulling teeth. Yes, things are better, and some folks are trying, but the very people who could make real change don’t care—and you can see it in how they keep their properties.
Two years later, we still have a burned‑out house in the middle of town. Add to that a burned‑out trailer from six years ago, plus all the abandoned, rotting homes and structures. And these are generational families who own them. I don’t understand why they let this happen. Twenty years ago, this town would never have allowed it. I don’t even recognize these people anymore. And for them to threaten my family and me for stepping up? Diary… everything could be better for all of us. But clearly, by the looks of our town, they only care about themselves. We were never like this before.
Diary, I didn’t mean for this to turn into a rant, but I’m tired. Every year, I feel my strength slipping a little more. That stomach virus—now I’ve learned it was a GI parasite that’s epidemic in WV—is still giving me trouble. Brutal stuff. Some days, I wish I could just walk away. But I can't... some days I have to step back... but give up that will only come if I die at this point. I pray one day I can get to a place where all I do is write about our history. That would be a blessing. I am a writer, not a crusader.
