On this West Virginia Morning, violets bloom across Appalachia throughout spring, but the flowers are more than just some extra color in the yard. They’ve long been a key ingredient in herbal remedies.
On this West Virginia Morning, violets bloom across Appalachia throughout spring, but the flowers are more than just some extra color in the yard. They’ve long been a key ingredient in herbal remedies. For Inside Appalachia, Folkways Reporter Wendy Welch brings us this story.
Also, in this show, our Mountain Stage Song of the Week comes to us Ed Snodderly, whose songs have been recorded by some of roots music’s most well-known names. We listen to his performance of “Gone with Gone and Long Time,” accompanied by the Mountain Stage Band and Lisa Pattison on fiddle and vocals.
West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting which is solely responsible for its content.
Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University.
Our Appalachia Health News project is made possible with support from Marshall Health.
West Virginia Morning is produced with help from Bill Lynch, Briana Heaney, Chris Schulz, Curtis Tate, Emily Rice, Eric Douglas, Jack Walker, Liz McCormick, and Randy Yohe.
Eric Douglas is our news director. Emily Rice produced this episode.
Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning
A Shepherd University student is leading a citizen science project that aims to repopulate American chestnut trees in Appalachia. American chestnut populations have been threatened for decades by an infectious disease called chestnut blight.
Imagine trees more than 100 feet tall stretching across the skyline of Appalachia; families resting in the shade down below or collecting husks bursting at the seam with chestnuts.
Before the 1900s, sights like these weren’t just imaginary. American chestnuts once reigned supreme in Appalachia, populating forests in 13 present-day states.
But things changed at the turn of the 20th century with the arrival of a new disease: chestnut blight.
“In the early part of the century, a strain came in that affected the chestnut tree, and chestnut trees began to die,” said Sylvia Shurbutt, director of Shepherd University’s Center for Appalachian Studies and Communities.
“By the end of the century, we had virtually no standing chestnut trees in most places,” she said. “The chestnut tree does still live. … [But] the tree will grow for a bit, and then it will die. It will contract the blight.”
According to Shurbutt, chestnut trees were a pivotal part of pre-Civil War Appalachian history.
Chestnut wood helped build log cabins and household furniture. Chestnut forests fostered regional biodiversity. Even chestnuts themselves were a staple of eighteenth and nineteenth-century cuisine.
That’s why Shurbutt and the Center for Appalachian Studies jumped at the opportunity to help repopulate the American chestnut.
“We really want to engage our students and the community in what I think is probably one of the most important and significant things and gifts that we could certainly give,” she said. “That is to bring back an iconic tree, a tree that was the symbol of Appalachia, a tree that was at the heart and soul of what Appalachian stood for.”
The project came to the Eastern Panhandle with the help of Susan Thompson, a graduate student in Appalachian Studies at Shepherd University and an affiliate of West Virginia’s chapter of the American Chestnut Foundation.
Community members pose for a drone photo beside two chestnut saplings they planted in Morgan County on April 6.
Photo Credit: Randal Stewart
Thompson began the local project last year, when she rallied together a team of community members to plant hybrid chestnut trees at a local farm.
These trees were hybridized with Chinese chestnut trees, which made them more resistant to the blight. Now, Thompson’s team aims to replant pure American chestnuts, with a little help from an ecological ally.
“When it has a symbiotic relationship with mycelium, which is the plant that a mushroom grows off of — it’s all these white tendrils. Sort of imagine how the internet has threads going in every direction and connections. It’s like that, the threads going in every direction,” she said.
Mycelium then works with chestnut trees to more efficiently capture resources.
“They connect with the tree roots, and they spread out another 50 feet,” Thompson said. “You may have 80 feet of area that a tree can collect nutrients and water.”
While environmental interventions like these support early growth in American chestnut trees, conservationists are still grappling with how to best protect trees from the threat of chestnut blight.
Finding a cure to the disease is a work in progress, and scientists are looking for answers in the genes of chestnut trees from around the world.
In the meantime, one new strategy has helped extend the lives of ailing trees. It involves taping a package of soil around an infected segment of the tree for months on end, which blocks the disease’s spread.
This is not a catch-all solution, because it doesn’t prevent new infections, and it is harder to use on big trees. More than anything, scientists need more information on how the disease works, and American chestnut resiliency more broadly.
While this American chestnut sapling is just a few feet tall, adult chestnut trees can grow to more than 100 feet.
Photo Credit: Jack Walker/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
This, again, is where Thompson comes in.
Thompson is creating a website for a new citizen science project that involves documenting the life cycle of local American chestnuts online, from planting to infection to treatment. That way, researchers have more information on what works and what does not.
“It’s bringing together minds from all over the country. Potentially, we can have people from all over the world,” she said. “But we’re first trying to bring together a group of people in Appalachia who know where these trees are, who can keep an eye on them and provide data about them.”
By engaging with volunteers on an online project, Thompson said she and other self-described “chestnutters” can also offer advice on how to treat infections and protect the species as a whole.
Thompson said the project has good traction so far, but it will take time for Appalachia to see the chestnut forests that were widespread centuries ago.
Still, Thompson said she and other conservationists are excited by the possibilities American chestnut reforestation provides. This includes protecting Appalachian ecosystems, and even combating global warming.
“These trees are out there. We know we have this big problem to solve with cooling the Earth. We have all these people who are excited about chestnuts,” Thompson said. “I’d like to see people join our group.”
“I’d like to see chestnutters making the world cooler,” she added.
To learn more about American chestnut reforestation in West Virginia, visit chestnutters.org.
Europe was the biggest customer of U.S. LNG last year as the continent continues a shift that started with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022.
About 66 percent of U.S. LNG exports went to European countries, primarily the Netherlands, France and the United Kingdom.
Asia was the second biggest market for U.S. LNG at 26 percent. Japan and South Korea were the largest importers.
Australia and Qatar trailed the United States, with about 10 billion cubic feet of LNG exported from each. Further down were Russia and Malaysia, each with less than 5 billion cubic feet.
West Virginia, the fourth largest U.S. producer of natural gas, produced 3 trillion cubic feet in 2023, according to the Gas and Oil Association of West Virginia. Some of it was exported as LNG through the Cove Point terminal in southern Maryland.
The state’s gas industry expects the mid-year opening of the controversial and delayed Mountain Valley Pipeline, which will have a capacity of 2 billion cubic feet per day.
Hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, has sharply increased gas production in the Appalachian Basin in the past 15 years.
This week, we’re revisiting our episode “What Is Appalachia?” from December 2021. Appalachia connects mountainous parts of the South, the Midwest, the Rust belt and even the Northeast. The Appalachian Regional Commission defined the boundaries for Appalachia in 1965 with the creation of the Appalachian Regional Commision, a part of Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty. It was legislation that sought to expand social welfare, and some localities were eager for the money, while others resisted the designation. The boundaries and definition of Appalachia can now only be changed by an act of Congress.
This week, we’re revisiting our episode “What Is Appalachia?” from December 2021. Appalachia connects mountainous parts of the South, the Midwest, the Rust belt and even the Northeast. The Appalachian Regional Commission defined the boundaries for Appalachia in 1965 with the creation of the Appalachian Regional Commission, a part of Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty. It was legislation that sought to expand social welfare, and some localities were eager for the money, while others resisted the designation. The boundaries and definition of Appalachia can now only be changed by an act of Congress.
Politically, Appalachia encompasses 423 counties across 13 states — and West Virginia’s the only state entirely inside the region.
That leaves so much room for geographic and cultural variation, as well as many different views on what Appalachia really is.
For Inside Appalachia, we turned our entire episode over to the question, “What is Appalachia?” With stories from Mississippi to Pittsburgh, we asked people across our region whether they consider themselves to be Appalachian.
A 1996 map that shows the southern part of Appalachia, as defined by John Alexander Williams.
Mississippi
Bob Owens — locally known as ‘Pop Owens,’ stands in front of his watermelon stand outside New Houlka, Mississippi. Pop says he was aware that Mississippi is part of Appalachia, but that no one in the state would consider themselves Appalachian.
Credit: Caitlin Tan/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Bob Owens is a watermelon farmer outside New Houlka, in the northeastern part of Mississippi. Owens said he was aware that Mississippi is part of Appalachia, but that no one in the state would consider themselves Appalachian. “I consider myself the worst redneck you’ve ever seen,” Owens said. “I live in the area of the Appalachian mountain range — not part of it, but close to it. So I guess you call me a redneck Appalachian.” This is the general consensus among the people in Mississippi we spoke to.
Geographically, the foothills of the Appalachian mountain range are located in northern Mississippi. The state’s tallest point is Woodall Mountain, 806 feet in elevation. For reference, the highest point in North Carolina, Mount Mitchell, is more than 6,600 feet in elevation, eight times higher than Woodall Mountain.
Co-host Caitlin Tan spoke with Texas State University History professor Justin Randolph, who wrote an essay for “Southern Cultures” called “The Making of Appalachian Mississippi.” Randolph argues in his essay that Mississippi became part of Appalachia for political and racial reasons, as well as economic advantages the designation brought to the 24 counties in Mississippi that were included in the ARC’s boundaries.
Shenandoah Valley
In the 1960s, while some localities were clamoring to get into Appalachia, on the eastern edge of the region, some lawmakers fought to keep their counties outside the boundaries, including politicians in Roanoke, Virginia and the Shenandoah Valley. Appalachian Studies associate professor Emily Satterwhite said explaining to her students why some counties in Virginia are included in Appalachia, but others aren’t, is confusing. “
The students in front of me are wondering why they’re not included,” White said.
Pittsburgh
The Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania skyline.
Courtesy
Appalachia’s largest city is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When we asked people from that city to tell us if they consider it a part of Appalachia, about half said no. “I definitely do not feel that I am Appalachian culturally,” said Mark Jovanovich, who grew up just outside Pittsburgh’s city limits in the Woodland Hills area. “Personally, I would consider the city of Pittsburgh is sort of like a mini New York City. I guess we’d probably be lumped in as like a Rust Belt city, which makes enough sense, but definitely not Appalachian culturally.”
An editor advised him to change the title of his book to a phrase that he said is sometimes used to refer to Pittsburgh derisively. “I couldn’t figure out why that should be a putdown, because Paris is nice. And Appalachia is a beautiful part of the world. And if we were called the Paris of the Rockies, we wouldn’t run from that. So why would we run from this? Why don’t we embrace it? So that became the title of my book.”
He said that geographically, Pittsburgh is clearly in the Appalachian Mountains. “I mean, this is one mountain range that stretches from Georgia to Maine. And the idea that it belongs only to the southern part of the mountain range defies logic to me,” O’Neill said.
What Do You Think?
How about you? Do you call yourself an Appalachian? Why or why not? Send us an email to InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.
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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by John Wyatt, John R Miller, Alan Cathead Johnston, and Dinosaur Burps. Roxy Todd originally produced this episode. Bill Lynch is our current producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Alex Runyon was our associate producer on this original episode. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens. Zander Aloi also helped produce this episode.
The start-up was built on the idea of using cutting-edge technology and local workers to produce vegetables on an industrial scale. And this was all set to happen in eastern Kentucky, where the company’s founder said this new version of agriculture could help replace the fading coal industry. AppHarvest got a lot of attention — from national media, politicians and investors. But then, last year, the company filed for bankruptcy.
This conversation originally aired in the Feb. 11, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.
When AppHarvest built its first greenhouse in 2020, it was touted as no less than the future of farming — and maybe Appalachia itself.
The start-up was built on the idea of using cutting-edge technology and local workers to produce vegetables on an industrial scale. And this was all set to happen in eastern Kentucky, where the company’s founder said this new version of agriculture could help replace the fading coal industry.
AppHarvest got a lot of attention — from national media, politicians and investors. But then, last year, the company filed for bankruptcy. Austyn Gaffney recently reported on AppHarvest’s downfall in a story for Grist and Louisville Public Media.
Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams spoke with Gaffney to learn more.
The transcript below has been lightly edited for clarity.
Adams: AppHarvest has received a lot of media attention from the time it was founded. But for folks who haven’t heard of AppHarvest, can you tell us about the company?
Gaffney: AppHarvest was founded by a Kentuckian named Jonathan Webb in January of 2018, basically saying that, in order to revitalize the economy of central Appalachia, we needed to bring in more blue collar jobs. His vision for these blue collar jobs was a spattering of 12 giant greenhouses, which grew produce like tomatoes and berries and lettuce indoors. He built the first of those greenhouses in Morehead, Kentucky, in 2020, during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and then he added four more greenhouses over the next couple of years.
Jonathan Webb, founder and former CEO of AppHarvest.
Credit: Jon Cherry/Grist
Adams: AppHarvest checked off so many boxes that people talk about it when they talk about economic development and Appalachia. They touted decent paying blue collar jobs with benefits for locals, building out the local food system, diversifying the economy in a coal producing region — even leaning in on private investment, as opposed to just grants and public funding. Where did AppHarvest go wrong?
Gaffney: Based on my reporting, the biggest problem at AppHarvest seems to have was that it grew too big too fast. It went through 12 rounds of funding, raised over $800 million in seed and venture capital funding, along with loans from banks and national organizations like the USDA. That was before they built their first greenhouse. They also started planning on going public.
You mentioned private investment. They partnered with basically what is a blank-check company for the purpose of joining the stock market. So on top of lenders, they also now have stockholders to contend with, to pay back all this money on sort of a low value product, which was tomatoes, lettuce and berries. By the summer of 2021, before they’re open even a year, AppHarvest leadership admitted on an investor call that the company was staring down a $32 million net loss. That same day, stocks dropped 29 percent and in the following months, the company was facing five different lawsuits alleging securities fraud.
Basically, stockholders were saying that leadership had lied about the productivity in the greenhouses and the success of the company. So through these suits at AppHarvest, leadership was repeatedly cited as blaming employee training, turnover and “a poor work ethic” as the root causes of the company’s failures to achieve profitability. Basically, rather than working out the kinks in its first year of operation, AppHarvest built five greenhouses while selling a low value product and blamed its failures in some ways on the laborers that kept the company going.
Adams: AppHarvest isn’t the only indoor agriculture project in the U.S., or even here in Appalachia. Multiple companies have closed or filed for bankruptcy in the last few years. Why is this particular industry so challenging?
Gaffney: Traditional farming relies on labor but also sun, rain and soil. In controlled environment agriculture (CEA), this type of industry relies on a reproduction of at least one of those, which is largely energy. In the example of AppHarvest, the greenhouses rely on a hydroponic system, the reproduction of heat and light, and pulling in water from retention ponds.
In Kentucky, we rely on coal for nearly 70 percent of our electricity. So the production of this produce is also tied to increased greenhouse gas emissions. The cost of those lights and the robotics that power parts of these facilities, especially when tied to commodified fossil fuels, can make this industry prohibitively expensive.
Over the last decade, there’s been an influx of venture capital funding into this industry, and the CEA market is predicted to be worth $3 billion by next year. So while the high costs of these facilities have accumulated quickly, they’ve also led to a domino of bankruptcies and closures, especially over the last couple of years.
Adams: There’s a lot in the story about how AppHarvest tried to cut labor costs. What was that experience like for workers?
Gaffney: The biggest complaints I learned from employees were how the big promises that AppHarvest made in its initial couple years failed to match their actual working environment.
When people were hired, especially at the inaugural Morehead greenhouse, they were deeply excited to join this new company which had this big mission, which they felt like was contributing to a sustainable future. Some of the employees told me that they would skip down the aisles during their first couple of weeks or months of work because they were so excited to be there.
But in October 2020, workers said they were told they needed to work overtime, including weekends, and one employee said when she complained, her supervisor told her she needed to “learn to sacrifice.” By the spring and the summer, extreme heat descended into the greenhouse. Former workers reported heat indexes that could reach into the 140s and the 150s, and often hovered in the territory of what the National Weather Service calls “extreme danger,” which is anything above 126 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s what these employees called “a grueling hell on earth.” They complained of heat exhaustion, rashes, dehydration and also dangerous working conditions where glass panels could fall from the greenhouse ceiling or tomato wires could snap.
This kind of mismanagement or dissatisfaction also bled into the corporate office that was based in Lexington. Former workers told me the leadership team was disorganized, and the goals of their positions were not clearly stated. One corporate worker told me they felt like they’d been sold a beautiful pipe dream, something that felt sustainable and new, and that could make it in Kentucky. But they said it turned out just to be a nightmare.
AppHarvest was touted as no less than the future of farming, but they filed for bankruptcy last year.
Credit: Jon Cherry/Grist
Adams: The story goes over a lot of ways that AppHarvest got things wrong. Is there a different version of AppHarvest, and that business model, that could potentially work in Appalachia?
Gaffney: It’s sort of speculative, so obviously, I can’t say for certain. But I think like all climate solutions, there’s a space for a renewable grid-powered version of AppHarvest. That could be one piece in a puzzle of solutions for a future food economy. That also includes small scale family farm markets that are sustainable and take care of our soil. But in order to feed our growing world, solutions like controlled environment agriculture — where we produce a high yield in a smaller facility without continuing to infringe on our forests and biodiversity — I think there is a space for that.
But AppHarvest grew so quickly that they weren’t able to trial and error a new type of economy with a totally new workforce. Maybe if AppHarvest had, had one greenhouse over three years, or five years or 10 years, and developed that workforce pipeline over time, they could have been successful. Instead, they built five greenhouses in less than three years. At that scale, it’s not that the science of CEA is wrong, but basically, it’s expensive. Plants are finicky, especially in indoor agriculture. If a disease or a pathogen takes hold, it can spread like wildfire.
I think they needed more room to make mistakes in their first few years, and maybe have less money to pay back in their first few years than they were able to do.
This week on Inside Appalachia, a wildfire in 2016 escaped the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It killed 14 people, injured dozens more and destroyed parts of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. We talk with an investigative journalist who has new information on the incident. Also, four decades ago rice seeds from Laos crossed the ocean to California and made their way to a family of Hmong farmers in North Carolina. And the Appalachian trail has been exhaustively hiked, explored and written about, but it’s still got a few secrets left.
In 2016, a wildfire escaped the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It killed 14 people, injured dozens more and destroyed parts of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. We talk with an investigative journalist who has new information on the incident.
Also, four decades ago rice seeds from Laos crossed the ocean to California and made their way to a family of Hmong farmers in North Carolina.
And the Appalachian trail has been exhaustively hiked, explored and written about, but it’s still got a few secrets left.
You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.
In 2016, a wildfire at Chimney Tops in Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee spread beyond the park boundaries into the nearby tourist towns of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. At least 14 people were killed. Many more were injured and thousands of residents and tourists had to be evacuated.
A new investigation revealed that National Park Service officials underestimated the severity of the wildfire and were slow to alert Tennessee officials about the danger.
Tyler Whetstone, an investigative reporter, spoke with Mason Adams about his reporting.
The Sweet Sticky Rice Of Western North Carolina
Tou Lee holds sweet sticky rice stalks in his rice field in Morganton, North Carolina.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
When you think of rice, you might not think of Western North Carolina. But the area is home to several varieties of heirloom rice that made their way here from Laos nearly five decades ago. The rice was carried and cultivated by Hmong refugees.
One family now sells their rice at markets and to restaurants, and they’ve built a passionate following.
Folkways Reporter Rachel Moore has this story.
Save The Salamanders!
The West Virginia spring salamander.
Credit: U.S. Geological Survey
Have you ever heard of a West Virginia spring salamander? They’re a species found in the General Davis Cave in Greenbrier County, West Virginia, but there are only a few hundred left.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service wants to put the West Virginia spring salamander on the endangered species list.
WVPB’s Curtis Tate spoke with Will Harlan, a senior scientist at the Center for Biological Diversity.
An Appalachian Trail Mystery
The Appalachian Trail was completed in 1927. For 25 years, hikers took to the trail and traveled along the mountains from Georgia to Maine, but then the trail was moved. And the old trail was nearly forgotten.
Historian and podcaster Mills Kelly discovered the lost trail and wrote about it in his new book, Virginia’s Lost Appalachian Trail.
WMRA’s Chris Boros speaks to Kelly about rediscovering the trail.
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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by David Mayfield, Chris Knight, John Blissard, John Inghram, Eric Vincent Huey and Steve Earle.
Bill Lynch is our producer. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens.
You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.
