My mother was born in the N. Georgia mountains (as was I) into a family of nine children. Life was tough for my mom as a child and tougher for my grandma. A book should be written about Ellijay (my birthplace), but I don't think anyone from there has the energy.
At any rate, here's an email from my Aunt Dottie sharing a story about her life in the woods in a trailer with no electricity.
I am weak, but my roots are strong.
Dottie wrote: I'm staying nights and weekends with Alice. I just went home to feed my babies. The dog was under the floor, where he usually stays, esp. lately since he can't walk too well. When I drove up, the puppies (Poppy and Rachel) came from the other end of the trailer. I told them to get on the porch and stay, as I usually do, so I can get parked without running over them and keep them in my sight.
They went to obey, but stopped short and started barking near the steps. I glanced over and froze. There was a big rattler lined up with the edge of the trailer (lengthwise), rattling like "get the hell away", just about to go under the floor. I grabbed my 45 and shot twice to try to stop it. it went into the long stovepipe that is laying widthwise under the floor - except the tail. I shot into the pipe twice, standing about 3 ft. away. I knew I had hit it, I think at least twice. I ran out of bullets, but it had stopped moving. I went to the back of the trailer and with the rake, I pushed the pipe far enough to the front so I could get a good whack at it. The end of the pipe was now out from under the trailer. It had doubled back within the pipe and now had it's head and tail sticking out the same end, . I chopped them both off with the ax, loaded it up in a big box with the shovel and r ake, and piled some junk on top. Their head will keep snapping, even after they are off. I knew this before but had never seen it. I reloaded and looked around for more, then put out the snake-away. Guess it's gonna be that kind of year.
Meanwhile, Doggie, my old, old dog, had scuttled farther up under the floor, and the pups had joined him for protection. They were all like a captive audience, and when I looked under there and told them it was OK now, they just all kept looking with that frozen stare, and wouldn't move for about 10 min. Then, the smallest but bravest, Poppy, came out to get the doggie treat I had brought. It took 10 more min. to get the other two out. I was late getting back to Alice, partly because I had to walk around, doing little things until my heart rate slowed. I told Alice when I got back and she was duly impressed though she did look a little horrified when I told her it was in three pieces in a box in my truck in her yard.