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THE PAINTER AND THE SPINNIN’ WHEEL
My all time favorite story is about a painter and a spinnin’ wheel. I guess I like it so much because it seems to emphasize the courage and ingenuity of our mountain people. For those who don't know what a painter is, the correct term is panther. A panther is a golden mountain lion which used to roam the mountain hills.
Naturalists tell us they are now extinct in our mountains, but they don't stand on my porch late at night and listen
to them scream 'way off down by the bee tree cliffs. If anything can make your
blood curdle, that sound will. Old folks say it sounds like a woman screamin’. I've heard them scream, but I've also heard them growlin’ and makin’ other
racket and I can't begin to describe the noise they make. I grew up listenin’
to painter stories and they always scared and fascinated me. Whatever the reason,
anytime Granny got to tellin’ me stories, I always asked her for the story of the painter and the spinnin’ wheel. She always obliged and here is her story.
"Back when your great-grandma first lived here, their house didn't have a real front door. They just had an old worn blanket nailed over the doorway which could be pushed aside to go in. They had an old black and brown dog who lay in front of the doorway and growled, keeping everythin’
away from the door - skunks, pole cats, foxes and even larger animals.
"One fall day Grandpa had to go to the next settlement to buy supplies.
He had to walk and would spend the night, not returnin’ until the next day.
His dog, Old Brownie, went along and Grandpa took the gun. It never occurred
to Grandma that things wouldn't be fine for just that one night.
"Grandma cooked supper on the fire. She cooked hoe cake
in the ashes and had shucky beans she had dried back in the summer. Shucky beans are dried green beans which are cooked in the shell. They smell so
good cookin’, especially with a hunk of home cured pork to season them. When
the chores were all finished, everone came in to eat. The children were little
but they helped their Ma get in wood to have a good big fire. Everyone ate, and then the children all piled into their little
bed in the corner and went to sleep. Grandma sat rockin’ by the fire. She didn't like Grandpa and the dog being gone.
Things had been fine durin’ the daylight, but since dark was comin’, she didn't like being alone. Shadows darkened as the sun set. Katie-dids started to sound as night crept up on
the cabin. Grandma had begun to nod by the fire when a deathly scream shook the
cabin. One who might not know better would have rushed out into the night for
the sound was that of a woman screamin’, piercin’ and bonechillin’.
"But Grandma knew better. She quickly built up the fire
and turned to watch the doorway. Before long she saw it. Her blood ran cold as the shadow of the painter leaped in front of that blanket, from one side of the door
to the other, its tail twitchin’ like a great big housecat's. She piled
the remainin’ wood on the fire, but she knew it would burn down all too soon. She also knew that when it burned low
enough, the painter would lose its fear and come in. She knew that she and her
children were in terrible danger. She could not go outside for more wood, and
there was no real door to keep the painter out.
"She thought and thought of some way to keep the painter out.
Glancin’ around the room for a possible weapon, she spied her spinnin’ wheel. Might it work? Just maybe it would. She quickly dragged the wheel before the open doorway. Grabbin’
a handful of carded wool, she started to spin. As the wheel went around faster
and faster a familiar, strangely musical, hum filled the air. To us it might
sound like an electric motor from some machine, but to the painter it was an unknown sound, a threat it hadn’t never
heard before.
"The painter leaped across in front of the doorway again, trying to determine what made that oddly
pitched hummin’ sound. Grandma kept the wheel turnin’ at a steady
pace. Back and forth leaped the painter, not havin’ the nerve to pounce
on the source of the strange noise. Back and forth, around and around: it was
a battle of nerves between Grandma and the painter. The painter smelled the pork, the shucky beans, and the hoecake, not to mention the people,
and knew he was mighty hungry. Grandma glanced at her sleepin’ babies and
knew that her spinnin’ wheel was her only hope of keepin’ them alive.
"All night long she spun. If she tired and slowed the
wheel, the painter grew brave and leaped closer. Grandma had only to glance toward
the bed to speed up the wheel again. The hours dragged on. Finally the sky began to lighten and dawn approached. As if
knowin’ he had lost, the painter opened his mouth and screamed. He was so close the cabin trembled, and the children
woke and cried out in fear.
"About a half mile away in the forest, Grandpa Woods heard the scream.
He had walked through the dark all night, being uneasy at leavin’ his family alone. His dog sidled up close to him as he grabbed his rifle out of his pack and started runnin’. He had never run so fast as he did toward the sound which came from near his cabin. Fear gave him strength as he burst through the woods into the clearin’, not
knowin’ what he would see. A large golden-brown painter crouched by the
doorway, twitchin’ its tail as it listened to a familiar hum. Grandpa raised
his gun and shot, killin’ the painter and bringin’ an abrupt end to the hum.
Grandma rushed outside, they hugged each other and the children who crowded around.
Laughin’ and cryin’ at the same time, Grandma told Grandpa of how she had spun all night to keep the painter
out. They gathered kindlin’ and went inside to get breakfast."
And that was the story of the painter and the spinnin’ wheel.
But that's not all the story. You see, my husband always said he had heard
that story before but couldn't remember where or when. Then later we found out
that we were related. Our great-great-grandpa was Andrew Woods, who lived in
a little cabin, right on the property we lived. When he heard that, my husband
exclaimed, "I knew I'd heard that story somewhere before, my Grandpa told it to me when he gave me that spinnin’ wheel!"
So you see, the spinnin’ wheel which always sat in our front room was the same one our great-great-grandma
Woods used to keep the painter out of her house, almost one hundred years ago!
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