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With stories passed from lips to ears, we share our past from yesteryears. In fireside glow or porch-lit night, our mountain tales bring great delight. What am I?
A bow in hand, a tune so bright, the music rings through day and night. A dance, a stomp, a joyful sound, in mountain towns where beats resound. What am I?
Through haunted halls where echoes stay, the voices lost still have their say. A place once filled with pain and cries, now tells its tales through ghostly eyes. What am I?
Answer: Ghost Stories of the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum
Beneath the hills so dark and deep, men once worked where dangers creep. With pick in hand, through dust and stone, they built a world they’d call their own. What am I?
A clash so fierce, a fight so grand, between two families on this land. A tale of bullets, blood, and woe, where bitter feuds would only grow. What am I?
A gathering grand, with fiddles and song, where stories and music have lasted so long. In Charleston’s heart, our roots we show, through mountain arts from long ago. What am I?
A shadow moves, with glowing eyes, in Point Pleasant, he takes the skies. A legend feared, yet still embraced, where creatures lurk in this small place. What am I?
Though legal now, my past was wild, I once was made where law’s exiled. A sip so strong, it burns yet sweet, my mountain roots make me elite! What am I?
Some fry me up, some call me tough, my taste is bold, my smell is rough. With onions fried upon the plate, I bring a taste that some debate! What am I?
In mountain homes, I’m served with pride, with smoky beans cooked by my side. No fancy meal, but full of heart, a country classic from the start! What am I?
A breakfast king from down the way, where biscuits rule the start of day. A country twist on morning fare, with sausage, eggs, or gravy there! What am I?
In autumn’s chill, I’m cooked with care, my spicy scent fills up the air. A spread so thick, with deep brown hue, on toast or biscuits, I’ll stick to you! What am I?
A southern treat with something new, where cabbage makes its grand debut. On top of sauce, so thick and sweet, this bun and dog are quite a treat! What am I?
A miner’s snack, so soft and neat, with spicy slices tucked in deep. No need for cheese, no sauce in sight, just golden bread and meaty bite. What am I?
I cloak the hills, I shade the land, a sea of green so vast and grand. A nickname strong, I wear with pride, in Washington, I stand worldwide. What am I?
My slopes are high, my powder’s light, a skier’s dream in winter’s sight. With views so vast and air so chill, my mountain thrill is quite the skill. What am I?
My fruit is crisp, my trees stand tall, in Yakima, you’ll find them all. A juicy bite, both red and gold, my orchards’ stories long are told. What am I?
Across the waves, I sail with grace, connecting towns at a steady pace. A Northwest ride both smooth and free, a floating road from sea to sea. What am I?
I weave through peaks and valleys deep, where hikers climb and rivers leap. A trail so vast, from south to north, I take adventurers back and forth. What am I?
A coastal bloom with petals grand, in pink I paint the Northwest land. Along the trails, I catch your eye, Washington’s pride beneath the sky. What am I?
Answer: Coast Rhododendron (Official State Flower)
I tumble down from cliffs so high, a roaring fall that meets the sky. With mist so cool and views so wide, I take your breath and spark your pride. What am I?
With mountains high and forests deep, I’m where the wild creatures sleep. A coast, a range, a world so grand, I hold the best of sea and land. What am I?
My peak is high, my slopes are white, my presence is a stunning sight. In Washington’s heart, I rise so tall, a climber’s dream, admired by all. What am I?
Once I stood both fierce and proud, but one big blast formed ash and cloud. Though I erupted in a fiery show, today I sleep beneath the snow. What am I?
I like my music big and bold, with bass so loud and beats so cold. My rhymes are smooth, my sound’s just right, I rap about what’s out of sight. Who am I?