Becky Mushko

  I’ve been a freelance writer since the early 90s, but my current work focuses on children’s literature. The history and culture of the Blue Ridge Mountains—part of the Appalachian Mountain Range—are a major influence on my writing.

The Peaks of Otter—Sharp Top and Flat Top

  I'm a retired teacher who lives in rural Franklin County, Virginia, where I'm close to—but not on—Smith Mountain Lake. The mountains of the Blue Ridge encircle me. From my study window, I can look north to the Peaks of Otter—Sharp Top and Flat Top— blue in the distance.

To the east lies Smith Mountain, named for Daniel and Gideon Smith who settled the area in 1740.My maiden name is Smith, and my Smith ancestors have been in the area since the 1700s. I don't know whether or not I descend from one of these two pioneers.

During the 1960s, Appalachian Power Company built a dam in Smith Mountain's gap for hydroelectric power. The resulting lake, which flooded many family farms and some of my ancestors' land, has over five hundred miles of shoreline. I can't see the lake from where I live, but I can see Smith Mountain. Mornings, I can watch the sun rise over it. 

From my back deck, I can look south to Turkeycock Mountain. On a clear day, I can even make out the spot where we own some land. Confederate deserters allegedly hid on Turkeycock Mountain during the Civil War. According to current rumors, mountain lions—numerous in the area during the 1700s—roam the twelve-mile-long Turkeycock.

To the southwest is Chestnut Mountain; before the 1913 blight killed the American chestnut trees, many mountains in the area were white with blooms in early summer. Now, few if any chestnut trees exist.

Further west lies Jack’s Mountain, named for the bear, “Old Jack,” who used to roam there. Now the mountain is being quarried away. I can't see the quarry from my house, but some days I can hear the quarry machinery grinding the mountain into gravel. In fact, the gravel on my driveway came from Jack's Mountain. I guess you could say that part of the mountain came to me. 

 On a clear day, I can stand in my pasture and see the mountains in Floyd County in the far distance between Chestnut and Jack’s. On a really clear day, I can see the humps of the Devil's Backbone.

The Blue Ridge Mountains form the edges of my world. Much of my fiction is set in this region.

I've written articles, short stories, a little poetry and a couple of novels. My latest book, Ferradiddledumday, is an Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin tale. Of course, it's set in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Turkeycock Mountain

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