r/Appalachia

Main event reported to the DEP on 04/28/26 about a drainage event happening from the old Pritchard DH mine around Puritan around the Ragland WV area. It’s led to the discovery of 2 more spots from improper drainage. DNR has confirmed fish kill on Day 2 and 3 at the bottom of the spillage. And it’s still coming out of the mine.

We have since had Richard Altizer, Michael Bowman, Max Ashley, and a bunch of news media covering it.

Nothing fancy or professional but I wanted to share some pictures I took earlier of the storm clouds rolling into east TN/WNC. They looked really neat because of the difference from one side to the other like night and day.

There’s nothing more relaxing and good feeling to me than a good ol’ evening storm after a couple days of hot days. The rain just smells so good 😊

Blacksburg, VA, USA. I thought it was one of mine swarming since one hive had -by all appearances- a swarm exit then land a few feet away. Thankfully close to the ground so I just gathered them up. But post capture on inspection my girls did *not* swarm, so maybe they just got really excited? Never could spot the queen, but she must had made it in anyway since the whole gang went into the box my nightfall. Anyways, I still love to show the beekeeper party trick of just barehanding a cluster handful by handful and chucking them in a box. Only got stung once. Admittedly not easy to fish them out of a bush. Would’ve been way easier if they picked a branch.

48 hours later my girls did -different hive- swarm, and clustered right of Buddha. Made for a cool photo, and I was able to sit with a box in my lap and get them seated, found the queen midway and clipped her. Very pleasant.

While traveling late at night to a campsite between Wheeling and Fairmont, I did a double take when I passed what looked like an abandoned general store and hotel. I snapped a quick phone photo, the building briefly illuminated by my brake lights.

Old town were centered on two institutions: the court house and the post office.

If you ever travel through the rural American South or the misty backroads of Appalachia, you may eventually notice something strange standing in people’s yards: dead trees or iron poles covered in empty blue glass bottles pointing toward the sky. Most modern homeowners describe them as quirky Southern folk art or colorful garden decorations made from recycled bottles.

But the tradition behind them is far older—and far darker—than most people realize.

Bottle trees are rooted in centuries of protective folklore tied to spirits, curses, and unseen entities. Long before they became decorative objects, they were believed to function as spiritual traps placed near homes to intercept hostile forces before they could cross the threshold.

The origins of the practice are difficult to trace precisely, but many folklorists connect the idea to ancient traditions involving spirit entrapment in glass containers. Similar beliefs appear across parts of North Africa, the Middle East, and later in Central and West African spiritual systems. In several old traditions connected to jinn lore and wandering spirits, reflective surfaces, mirrors, polished metal, and hollow vessels were believed to attract unseen beings.

Some oral traditions even claimed that wind passing through narrow glass openings created a resonant hum capable of attracting or confusing spirits. To modern ears, it is simply the sound of air moving through a bottle neck. But in older supernatural interpretations, the sound itself was believed to signal spiritual movement around the home.

Over time, related beliefs became deeply embedded within Bakongo spiritual traditions in Central Africa. The Bakongo viewed the boundary between the living and the dead as fragile and permeable, populated by roaming spirits that could influence the physical world. When enslaved Africans were brought to the American South, many carried fragments of these protective traditions with them. Without access to elaborate ritual objects, they adapted using discarded bottles, broken glass, tree branches, and iron stakes.

Traditional bottle trees were often placed near gates, crossroads, porches, or entrances. According to regional folklore, wandering spirits traveling at night would become fascinated by the shimmering glass and drift inside the bottles. Once trapped, the first rays of sunrise were believed to destroy or weaken the entity contained within.

One detail appears again and again in Southern bottle tree traditions: cobalt blue glass.

In Hoodoo folklore, this color became associated with “Haint Blue,” the same pale blue shade still painted on many porch ceilings across the American South today. According to regional belief, spirits could be confused by the color because it resembled water or open sky—two symbolic barriers commonly associated with protection in many spiritual traditions.

Older practitioners reportedly treated bottle trees with caution. In some areas of Kentucky and Mississippi, folk accounts describe rootworkers refusing to casually remove or break certain bottles once they had been hanging for years. Some traditions claimed that spiritually “heavy” bottles needed to be burned or buried carefully to avoid releasing whatever negative force had accumulated inside.

Whether taken literally or symbolically, bottle trees reveal something fascinating about human psychology and folklore: across cultures and centuries, people have consistently tried to create protective barriers between the safety of the home and the unknown forces believed to move through the darkness beyond it.

Today, most people see bottle trees as harmless decoration. But their origins survive as echoes of much older fears—fears tied to restless spirits, wandering entities, and the ancient belief that some things can still be trapped by glass, wind, and light.

And the next time you hear those bottles humming in the wind, you may understand why earlier generations listened to that sound a little more carefully.

Central PA