FOLK Summer Proof

FOLK THE DESTINATION ISSUE

SHARING THE AMERICAN STORY

A FRESH-PICKED

SOUTHERN

SUMMER ON THE FARM WITH

JON CARLOFTIS FROM DIRT TO SHIRT WITH HIGH COTTON BUCKETS OF BURLAP

THROWS A PARTY A SOUTHERN GENTELMAN

BY SOUTHERN PROPER

SUMMER 2012 | $6.95

MAGAZINEBYFOLK.COM

FOLK

SUMMER 2012

Sweet Tea Firefly Catching Front Porch Sitting

FAMILY

The Derby

A Slice of Pecan Pie Mason Jars Old Oak Trees Wildflower Picking

HUMID

Spanish Moss & Magnolia Trees

Collard Greens Barefoot Cornbread

HOME

FOLK | 1 | 2012

WELCOME

THERE IS SOMETHING ABOUT THE SOUTH. IT’S A PLACE THAT JUST FEELS LIKE HOME. WHETHER YOU’RE A LIFELONG RESIDENT, A TRANSPLANT, OR JUST A VISITOR, THE SOUTH IS A PLACE THAT WELCOMES YOU WITH OPEN ARMS AND SWEET TEA. For us at FOLK, the South a place that begins by wandering down a long dirt road. It’s a place where you can feel the sun and the heat on your cheeks, feel the wind in your hair, and taste the dust as the humidity rises and carries it towards the sky. The wildflowers and wild grasses that line the lane welcome you into their world as they arch over the road and curl through your fingers. The thin cotton of your clothes catches the low breeze that begins swirling the thick dust around your boot. The South’s air is full of the sounds of the fields, the wind, the birds, and of the American machine churning, steaming, and running in the distance. You can feel its heart beat as you pound shoe print after shoe print into the dirt road. In the South, you are young — be it in year or in wander— there are no iPhones, pagers, or cellular phones. There are only tin cans tied together with string, or phones hanging on kitchen walls with rotary dials and long curling cords hanging beneath.

As you continue to sojourn, walk onto the grass of the yard. You can smell its fresh-cut scent. Bow to the grand oaks in the lawn and feel the old fraying ropes that hold the swing in its strong branches. This swing has hung from this tree for generations. Sit. Sit in the swing.

Take off your boots and rub your toes in the grass. Squashing the grass as you become one with the cool earth below, you push off and swing. Back and forth, back and forth. Higher and higher. Watching yourself rise from the world below, you see the barnyard in the distance. Someone is tending to the garden. Rows of vegetables fill it.

The orchard is full of apples and peaches, and cherries will soon be ready to pick. Seeing the city in the distance, you can hear and feel the American machine once again. You dream of the stories it can tell. Of lights, and big dreams, and of its stores lined with goods, treasures, and sweets. You begin to desire a life in that big city. Returning to your surroundings with open eyes, you realize the love you have for everything about the South’s simplicity. Your swinging begins to slow and you sink lower and lower, until the grass is once again beneath your feet. The air feels thicker under the setting sun, so you move into the shade. You sit in the front yard and continue to explore the world around you. A well-worn picket fence surrounds the house. The broken gate swings in the breeze. You walk to the fence to explore the latch.

Swinging the gate, you step inside. The sidewalk leads to the front porch where there are more swings, one on either end. The porch is covered in pots filled with plants, and baskets filled with blooms of all kinds hang from the porch roof, complementing the wide bushes surrounding the porch. The floral aroma is everywhere. You take it all in, but you are hungry. You sit comfortably in another swing, still barefoot and holding a glass of lemonade. You drink your lemonade, following it with sweet tea. You have a slice of pie, a cookie, of something homemade. The front door opens, it is tall like the oaks in the yard, and your grandmother steps out onto the porch. She sits beside you and she takes a glass of tea. YOU ARE NOW IN THE SOUTH AND, IN

THE SOUTH, YOU ARE HOME.

—Ben

Editor-in-Chief FOLK | 2 | 2012

FEATURES

8 34

NATURAL INSPIRATION

Hillary visits with famed gardener Jon Carloftis to discuss inspiration and the story behind it all

SOUTHERN INGENUITY

Blogger Becky Cunningham of Buckets of Burlap prepares a summer party in fine southern fashion.

44

STEPPING OUT IN SEMINOLE COUNTY

Jen and the girls travel to Seminole County, FL to explore the area and all of the folk art the county has to offer.

50

SUMMERTIME IN THE METROPOLITAN SOUTH

A tour of the fine points of Nashville.

58

DIRT TO SHIRT The story of a shirt begins in the cotton fields of North Carolina. We follow the process from the fields to the shelves.

A PROPER GENTLEMAN

62

Reagan and Emmie of Southern Proper share the story that led them to co-creating one of the most popular southern fashion labels.

FOLK | 3 | 2012

CONTENTS

INSPIRE

16 JUST THAT SOUTHERN 17 BLOG LIFE 18 MUSIC 20 SHOPPING 22 SHARED STORY 23 SHOPPING 24 ARTISAN’S STORY 26 READER SUBMISSIONS

SHARE

6 SNAPSHOTS 86 FRESH EGGS 88 THE REMEMBRANCER 89 FOLKLORE 90 PONDERINGS 92 THE LITTLE THINGS 94 MAN FARMER 97 SHORT STORY 98 READER SUBMISSION

CREATE

29 INSPIRED BY...

31 JUNK FIX 40 SWEET RE-TREATS 43 PATTERN

GATHER

68 SOJOURNS IN THE SOUTH 71 CITY TOUR 73 COOKING CLASS 75 VIRGINIA’S ALLEY 76 SUMMER 2012 79 FROM AUNT JUNE’S KITCHEN 82 READER SUBMISSION 84 TABLESCAPE

FOLK | 4 | 2012

Get your fill of Americana at Vintage Concord!

We are a husband & wife team that roams the country for unique vintage items to decorate your favorite place.

Join the Vintage Concord Facebook community and be the first to know about new merchandise, special finds and much more! Located inside The Depot at Gibson Mill, 325 McGill Avenue NW, Concord, NC.

E us on Facebook Like

E Visit us at vintageconcord.etsy.comE

Follow us on Twitter

EST 2010

FOLK READERS SUBMIT THEIR PHOTOS!

ANITA HADLEY

FOLK

Snapshots!

VOLUME 2 NUMBER 3 BEN ASHBY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

DIRECTOR OF ADVERTISING HILLARY LEWIS

EDITORIAL SHANNON ASHBY ANDREW KOHN EDDIE LEGASPI LINDA REID KIMBERLY STRYKER LIZA TURNER

CREATE

AMY BALLARD

FOOD DAVID GOBELI SANDY ROBINSON AMY THAYER

ANITA HADLEY

DEB KENNEDY ANGIE UPTON DONNA WILLIAMS MICHAEL WURM JR.

ANITA HADLEY

FASHION HEATH STILTNER

FEATURES JEN O’CONNOR GAVIN O’NEILL GINA YOUNG

PHOTOGRAPHY JEREMY RYAN HATFIELD

PRODUCTION TOSHA JACKSON | DIRECTOR OF DESIGN ELLIOT OLSON | VIDEOGRAPHY

PHOTOGRAPHY: All photography has been used with the permission of its respective owners. We would like to thank each owner for the rights to use their photos. ADDRESS CHANGE: Please mail us at PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320 with your previous address and your new address. ADVERTISING: To inquire about advertising in a future issue of FOLK please email us at advertise.folk@gmail.com. We can send our media packet to you as well as current ad rates. Ads are due to the previous email address one month before the slated release date.

On this date ad dues must be paid in full. SUBMISSIONS: From time to time we will ask for reader submitted photos on our Facebook page (facebook.com/wearefolk). To send submissions directly to our offices please send them to the following address PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320 or email them to submissions.folk@gmail.com. FOLK, nor any member of the FOLK staff or CHANDLERclark will be held responsible for the return of submissions. The sender will not receive the submission back. LIABILITY: FOLK, nor any member of the FOLK or CHANDLERclark staff will be in any way held responsible for any accidents resulting from the possession of this magazine. This extends explicitly, but may contain other instances, to consumption or eating of

FOLK | 6 | 2012

INFORMATION SUBSCRIBE: To subscribe to FOLK simply head to our website (magazinebyfolk.com) or mail a check or money order for the amount of $32.70 to the following address PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320. Subscriptions are available for one year (six issues).

CONNECT ONLINE FACEBOOK: FACEBOOK.COM/WEAREFOLK

STEPHANIE DESIO

TWITTER: TWITTER.COM/FOLKMAGAZINE AMY BALLARD

BLOG: AMERICANFOLKLIFE.BLOGSPOT.COM

ETSY: ETSY.COM/SHOP/FOLKMAG WEBSITE: MAGAZINEBYFOLK.COM MEET AND GREET FOLK writers will be at the Springfield Antique Show and Flea Market to celebrate the kick-off of Vintage Marketplace. Dates are: May 18-20.

Springfield, Ohio

MY MOM

EDITOR’S NOTE: As with any magazine our issues are produced months ahead of the on shelf date. This issue was completed prior to the events in Sanford, FL. We wish to send our thoughts and prayers to the community and to all of those involved. God Bless.

-Ben Ashby

this publication or any part of this publication, paper cuts or other bodily injuries resulting from touching this magazine, or any form of mental duress, stress, or harm that results from reading, viewing, or handling this publication or any supplement published by CHANDLERclark. Please be aware that by purchasing or focusing attention on this publication you waive all rights to hold anyone connected to FOLK responsible for any negative effects that may result from contact with this magazine, its online presence, its reputation, its content , or its mission. Thank you. 7/11 MISCELLANEOUS: For editorial queries please email us at editor.folk@gmail.com or send us a letter to PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320. 2011 FOLK Magazine, a division of CHANDLERclark. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited. No rights for commercial use or exploitation are given or implied. LETTERS TO THE EDITOR: Please email Ben at editor.folk@gmail.com or mail a letter to PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320.

FOLK | 7 | 2012

NATURAL INSPIRATION An Interview with Jon Carloftis of Jon Carloftis Fine Gardens

BY: HILLARY LEWIS

IMAGINE walking out your back door

into the Appalachian wilderness, trudging through the same forest that Daniel Boone passed through generations ago. Not much has

changed since those times. The oak and sycamore trees jut toward a cloudless sky as sunbeams trickle through the canopy above. Wildflowers are in abundance and crisp, fresh air fills your lungs. As you take a moment to stop and admire the shades of green displayed in the moss growing on nearby sandstone, you hear the faint call of a whippoorwill in the distance. This is my home, and the home of Jon Carloftis.

Jon’s story begins in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, on the banks of the Rockcastle River. It is the nature of this land that he credits for the inspiration behind Jon Carloftis Fine Gardens. Gardening, a hobby from his childhood, and his love for gardening stems from his love for the Appalachian wilderness and nature. It is this love that Jon believes has made his work so unique. His work is his hobby.

In the early years of Jon Carloftis Fine Gardens, Jon relocated to New York where he focused his designs on bringing nature indoors and onto rooftops. This simple idea shared the relaxation of the wilderness with clients who had never experienced the tranquility of an Appalachian landscape. Word quickly spread of his talent and 2011 has proven to be Jon’s most successful year thus far.

With a raising coming from a small, rural community Jon’s advice for success is to “work like a dog.” He believes that there is truly nothing better than a good work ethic and that you must always stay open-minded concerning new ideas. You must dive into everything you believe in wholeheartedly, and realize that you will not always be successful. People expect new ideas and when you have successful years, at the end of the year you are “burnt out.”

Jon admits that when stress reaches a breaking point, he enjoys taking a few days to go to the beach. By immersing yourself in something totally opposite, you open your mind to new thoughts.

When something does not work, he goes back to his inspiration and reinvents the idea with a fresh view.

The most important advice Jon has for gardening is to work with what you’ve got. By blending your design with nature and what surrounds, you can create an oasis of your own. His favorite plants depend on the project at hand. He loves to pull natural elements from the surrounding area — this is evident in his favorite project to date. Jon loves the work he has done at Mt. Brilliant Horse Farm in Lexington, KY. With its formality and classic look, Mt. Brilliant is open, airy and as Jon states “it just works.”

For more information about Jon and his designs please visit: JonCarloftis.com

Cranberry and Almond Upside Down Cakes (makes 8) For the cranberry layer: 1 1/2 cups fresh cranberries 1 TBSP freshly grated orange zest 1 TBSP freshley grated lemon zest 1/4 cup honey Preheat oven to 350F and grease your muffin tin.

Combine flour, salt, baking soda, cinnamon and all spice in a bowl. In a seperate bowl combine eggs, ghee/oil and honey.

Combine wet and dry ingredients and set aside.

Toss cranberries with orange zest, lemon zest and honey. Arrange mixture into a single layer at the bottom of each muffin cup.

Top with cake batter and cover evenly.

Place pan into oven for 20-25 minutes or until tops are golden brown and fully cooked. If your cakes get too brown but need to cook another minute or two place a sheet of foil on top and continue cooking.

Weekend in the Country Shopping Festival & Vintage Market A folksy inspired festival chuck full of good stuff and great finds!

September 29th & 30th at Springfield Oaks 12451 Andersonville Road - Davisburg, MI 48350 Calling all... Artisans – Craftspeople – Vintage & Antique Dealers – Repurposed Goods Gourmet Street Food Vendors – Local Produce – Specialty Foods and Much More!

734.459.0500 hcshows.com

hcshows@yahoo.com

INSPIRE PRODUCTS, PLACES, & PEOPLE WE HAVE FALLEN FOR

I have learned in my years of being a Southerner that you aren’t a southerner unless you are well versed in a few things. Some may seem cliché, while others may seem standard — but to us, they are just the things that make this place feel like home!

MOONPIES ... head to Bell Buckle, TN this summer for its annual Moonpie festival!

SWEET TEA ... with lemon and mint PECAN PIE ... is it pronounced “pea-can” or “puh-con”?

FRIED CHICKEN ... just like your grandmother made it!

WAGON WHEEL by Old Crow Medicine Show “rock me mamma any way you feel” FIREFLIES IN A MASON JAR ... don’t forget to let them breathe!

KNOWING YOUR FAMILY’S HISTORY ... and being darn proud of it!

TRIPS TO FLORIDA’S BEACHES

... Panama City is so much more than just Spring Break

PICKING PEACHES, ORANGES, OR LEMONS

... the South has quite a few fruit-filled states

STEEL MAGNOLIAS and GONE WITH THE WIND ... we are a land of strong-spirited women

LITTLE WHITE CHURCHES

... and their well-dressed women on the amen-pew

HEMMINGWAY, FAULKNER, and TWAIN TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD The South comes alive in the summer with music, festivals, food, and fun. Summer is one big celebration in the South filled with colorful clothing, barbecues, lemonade, and visits to the lake. One cannot explain the excitement and color of a Southern summer without detailing all those little things that make it summer there. Whether you are spending your days by the river sunning, cooling off your nights night-swimming, or going to local festivals to immerse yourself in the local heritage of the South, it is sure you will be spending your time outdoors. The South has a great array of landscapes, and each one boasts its own unique activities. Some Southerners spend their cooler evenings hiking through the foothills of the Appalachians, while others may spend them poolside with the family celebrating their time together. Summer stimulates all of your senses with the buzzing of crickets in your ears, the humid air blowing through the willow trees, and the smells of ripening fruit in the garden. The South has adapted lightning bugs into games of tag and food into competitions at the state fair. No matter where you go in the South, if you’re there in the summer, you’re sure to find a lot of surprises.

FOLK |15 | 2012

JUST THAT SOUTHERN A VIEW ON SOUTHERN LITERARY CLASSICS

FAULKNER, TWAIN, AND LEE: THE SOUTHERN CLASSICS THE HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN SOUTH IS AS COLORFUL AND FULL AS THE HAIR AND BODICES OF AN ANTEBELLUM BELLE. From the culture-melding beginnings of this country’s South-

“I wanted you to see what ern states, our national sense of what is Southern has been cultivated.

From the French and Native American practices of Louisiana to the rich real courage is, instead of plantation owners in Georgia, the South is as diverse and interesting getting the idea that as ever. Of the many influential residents that have lived in these parts, courage is a man with a gun the most influential of all have been those chosen few that have given in his hand. It’s when you us the literary torch to pass to each new generation of Americans and Southerners. America’s writers have single-handedly been the historians know you’re licked before you and anthropologists of this country. What would the American South be begin but you begin anyway without the likes of Mark Twain and his riverboats, or Kate Chopin and her chilling Gulf of Mexico drowning? It’s true, without our great Southern writers, a very important part of this country’s past THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD — ­ Zora Neale Hurston wouldn’t live on for future generations. It GONE WITH THE WIND — Margaret Mitchell is in today’s time that we go back to the THE AWAKENING — Kate Chopin honest words of Harriet Beecher Stowe TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD — Harper Lee to remember a piece of painful history UNCLE TOM’S CABIN — Harriet Beecher Stowe that plagued this nation. Or to Margaret THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN — Mark Twain Mitchell for the harrowing action of a AS I LAY DYING — William Faulkner well-to-do Southern belle left bankrupt.

We all breathe heavily in anticipation as THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER — Mark Twain Eliza races down the river to freedom to THE OPTIMIST’S DAUGHTER — Eudora Welty save her son. We all curse and swear as NATIVE SON — Richard Wright we are forced to whitewash the fence with LANTERNS ON THE LEVEE — William Alexander Percy Tom after Friday’s fight. Yes, it is easy, or TOBACCO ROAD — Erskine Caldwell more appropriately enjoyable, to venture to ALL THE PRETTY HORSES — Cormac McCarthy the South through the words of our great DELTA WEDDING — Eudora Welty country’s writers. As part of the Southern BAYOU FOLK — Kate Chopin Issue, we want to inspire our readers to delve back into the cotton fields of these great American novels. In this section, you will find a few of the iconic and you see it through no Southern novels that have taught us the joys of front porch sittin’ and matter what. You rarely win, sweet tea drinkin’, and a few reader suggestions. So, here it is, the FOLK but sometimes you do.”

South’n Lit’rature List. May they transport you to the plains of Oklaho— To Kill A Mockingbird ma, or accompany you to an Antebellum plantation this summer.

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. —Their Eyes Were Watching God FOLK | 16 | 2012

BLOG LIFE

OUR FAVORITE BLOGS Blogger Amy Reister of PLAIN AND FANCY LIVING is no stranger to us at FOLK. Prior to us discovering her blog, a friend told us that we would love her and her style. Once we discovered the blog, we were loving her take on living, which is, as the name suggests, a mix of plain and fancy elements. Amy’s blog is filled with simple ideas for entertaining and home design. She also discusses her daily musings and the pleasures of southern life. It certainly didn’t hurt our love of the blog when we discovered that she is a Kentucky native and pretty good with a camera!

Subscribe One Year Six Issues Only $25.00

plain and fancy living

Subscribe via Paypal at AmericanFolkLife.blogspot.com

or

Check her blog out by going to plainfancyliving.blogspot.com

Photos courtesy Liz Thomas.

BACK DOWN SOUTH — the creative Southern street-style blog of Caroline Fontenot, is an amazing look at Southerners and the clothes that they wear. Writing short biographies on everyday people and shooting stunning photography detailing their everyday street style Caroline documents the fashion and story of the South.

The blog was created by Caroline in late August 2011 after her search for a Southern street style blog came up short. Adopting it as her mission to create such a blog Caroline, a full time photographer, set out to find the fashion, people, and stories that she felt embodied the Southern culture. Caroline says, “I decided that, with all the traveling I do as a full time photographer, I could successfully document fashion around the South, both on strangers, friends, and folks involved with southern companies. I wanted to create a blog that I’d want to read: a place that featured “good looks below the Mason-Dixon line,” with a short bio on each of the folks featured.” Caroline loves capturing the stories and styles of strangers through her blog. She says that her overall inspiration for the blog is to capture, “Every day looks on every day southern people.” backdownsouth.com

FOLK | 17 | 2012

Mail a Check FOLK Magazine PO Box 195 Beaver Dam, KY 42320

MUSIC

LIZA TURNER

GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV

Gregory Alan Isakov is a singer-songwriter who has performed with the likes of Brandi Carlile and Ani DiFranco and at both South

by Southwest and the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. His songs have been heard on numerous television and film productions and he is slated to tour this summer both domestically and abroad. He kindly took the time to give us a glimpse into his life and at a few upcoming projects. gregoryalanisakov.com

How many years did you spend in South Africa? How has growing up there influenced your music? Where do you consider “home”?

I lived outside of Johannesburg with my family until I was seven. It was a beautiful and intense place to grow up, and I’ve gone back since then. I’m not sure how these things make it into songs, but I’m sure that they have. We moved around a lot when I was a kid…and it looks like I do now as well, haha. Colorado has been home for about 10 years. It’s an amazing place.

I feel connected to the west in general… something about the space out here. I’ve lived in lots of places, but the idea of home has always felt sort of illusive to me. I don’t think I’ve ever finished a lease, and I do think more and more, that home is something you take with you.

It seems that media and fans alike have a somewhat difficult time describing the genre of artists like you, Brandi Carlile, Iron and Wine, Bon Iver, the Avett Brothers, etc. Do you consider yourself to be in a “category” or do you prefer this fluid understanding?

It’s funny, people ask me a lot what kind of music we play. I’m always a little stumped.

I think I say “we play songs”. It seems like music genres are changing all the time. Just last night at a show I heard the term “country-emo”. I guess I don’t really think about it too much. I listen to all kinds of music and the one thing they have in common is they put me into an emotive sense of place and time and most of all, a feeling. It could be a Miles Davis song or Nick Drake. I think that’s what we are all after.

How do you decide on the artistic direction of your website, videos, T-shirts, CD covers, etc.? How would you describe your personal artistic inclinations/tastes?

I am quite involved with all aspects of the music we make, artwork being a big part of

that. I’ve been lucky to have amazingly talented friends that I have worked beside putting together our records and T-shirts. I have a small silk-screen set up in my basement. I make a lot of prints by myself that we will have on the road.

What instruments do you play? Are there any you would like to learn?

I play a little of everything; not one too brilliantly:) I have a slew of old guitars at home and a couple of banjos, a bass, and a piano that I traded my couch for. I just started playing the saw and a pedal steel for the record that I’m making these days.

In those instances when you’re not touring or in the studio, what is a typical day like for you?

Haha, a typical day…that sounds awesome.

Lets see, an ideal typical day that I am not in a van, I would probably spend it being nerdy in my vegetable garden at home, half reading Steinbeck and wearing out Leonard Cohen’s, “Songs from a Room.” I bet there would be some pinball and watching BB.C’s, “Merlin” thrown in there somewhere, and yeah, too much coffee. (with a little sugar)

FOLK | 18 | 2012

What are a few of your favorite venues?

I love the Fox Theater and Chautauqua here in Colorado, but we’ve been lucky to play a ton of beautiful venues. We recently played the 9:30 club in D.C and that was amazing as well. There’s an old wooden saloon in Pinos Altos, New Mexico called the Buckhorn Opera House; one of our favorites.

What projects/collaborations do you have planned for this spring and summer? Upcoming tour and album information?

I have been mostly working on a record that we have been recording at a studio in the mountains near where I live for the past year and a half. I have been loving making it, and that should be out sometime soon this year. We are also on the road a bit this summer and will be at Red Rocks Amphitheater with Brandi Carlile in July. After that, in Europe.

What is one song you really wish you had written (from any genre)?

Besides the Happy Birthday song or maybe the Alphabet song (those two are good), it would probably be “One of Us Cannot be Wrong” by L. Cohen. That has to be the most beautiful love song I have ever heard.

SHOPPING HEATH STILTNER

AUTHENTICA CLASSICS We talk with Martha Passman about the story behind her business

When and how did you start in the antique industry?

From the time I was a teenager, growing up in the suburbs of Atlanta in the 1970’s, I have been interested in space planning, floor plans, fabrics and interior design.

Collecting floor plan magazines for years, I would sit and study space planning for hours. I refinished my first piece of antique furniture when I was 18 and have always collected bolts of fabric. Some women like shoes, but I like fabric.

So, did you study Interior Design in college?

Although I took classes in college and wanted to major in Interior Design, my father would not allow it. So, I went with my second love, which was Journalism, and majored in Public Relations.

After college, what did you do?

After college I was employed by IBM in Atlanta and worked there until the birth of my second child in 1995, when I decided to be a stay-at-home mom and opened a part-time decorating business.

I’ve made wonderful contacts over the years, working with very talented people who sew and upholster.

So, I guess that’s when you started working with grain sacks. How did that start and why?

I fell in love with the look of authentic European grain sacks several years ago. At the time, there were two main sources for authentic pillows, one was sourced out of New York and the other was in California, but neither of them had online retail sites.

About two years ago I started looking again, and after spending days searching for what I wanted, I decided to find a source just for the grain sacks themselves and design my own pillows. So, the idea snowballed, and in the fall of 2010 I decided to make an investment in enough grain sacks to start a small side business.

How did you find the grain sacks, and how did you start the business?

I researched textile sources and websites for several months. I made phone calls and questioned friends who lived in the UK. While I was researching European grain sack sources, I decided to incorporate American grain sacks as well and started buying seed and feed sacks from

the USA. I went to auctions, shopped flea markets and antique shows, and literally built my stock one sack at a time or by small lot loads. I wanted quality construction, so I met with a professional decorator work room that I had worked with previously and explained what I wanted to do. They jumped on board. I created a blog and business Facebook page and I went to work.

What stands out the most to you when you’re looking for grain sacks? Is there a particular feature you look for?

I love European sacks that show wear and tear. The grain sacks with worn spots, darns, and hand-stitched patches are the most endearing and collectible, in my opinion. Most European sacks range in age from 50 to about 120 years old. The majority of the American feed and seed sacks were used in the first half of the 20th century from 1910 to the late 1940s.

By 1950, cotton was too expensive and mills started using paper bags. It is rare to find a perfect grain sack — they were hard-working textiles. So today, each sack has its own character and signs of age.

As the European sacks are hand loomed, the textile may include slubs, knots, or even tiny pieces of flax woven into the the fabric. I have purchased several sacks

FOLK | 20 | 2012

that still had flour, corn, or alfalfa in the corners and seams.

What have you done with all of the grain sacks you’ve accumulated? How did you get the name Authentica?

By May of 2011, we had produced our first batch of approximately 80 pillows. Every grain sack or piece of fabric is authentic aged textile, hence the name Authentica Classics. I am always on the lookout for vintage textiles and trims, although I may occasionally use new trims for piping or ruffles, depending on the pillow. Authentica Classics pillows and other designs are displayed and sold in Antiques and Collectibles of Dahlonega, Georgia, about an hour north of Atlanta.

What projects or products do you have coming up for Authentica Classics?

We just celebrated our one-year anniversary in February 2012. Big plans are being made with a new retail site, to be found at AuthenticaClassics.com. Pillows and other textile designs made out of traditional grain sacks, vintage quilt tops, table linens, and other surprises are in store. If everything works out, you might even see other vintage creations and repurposed art being offered by Authentica Classics.

SHOPPING

HILLARY LEWIS

THE DEPOT AT GIBSON MILLS {325 McGill Ave. Concord, NC 28027}

APPROXIMATELY 25 MILES NORTH OF CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA YOU WILL FIND THE OLD CANON MILLS MILL TOWN. The mill houses across the railroad tracks are still intact, and the mill itself now serves as the largest antique mall in the South. At over 100 years old, the 20-foot ceilings, exposed beams, and creaky floors add to the character of the Depot at Gibson Mill. Additionally, in preservation of the building’s rich history, every room is named after what it was originally used for during the mill’s functioning days. Each aisle is then named after historic streets from the surrounding area.

Janna Baker, is the General Manager of the Depot at Gibson Mill, got her start in antiques several years ago by attending auctions to furnish her home with her newlywed husband.

Her involvement with the Depot at Gibson Mall began when she rented a booth to sell her handmade jewelry designs. When a managerial position opened up, she left her corporate financial career for a future in antiques and design. The thrill of antiques and rust was a job she couldn’t turn down.

With 600 booths, no matter what your personal style may be, the Depot at Gibson Mill truly boasts something for everyone. From traditional antiques, to industrial pieces, to a vintage car auto barn in the basement – here you will find things you never knew you would need! {depotgibsonmill.com}

FOLK | 21 | 2012

SHARED STORY

SWEET HARVEST FARMS We asked C.J.,

the lady behind growing soap brand Sweet Harvest Farms,

to share her story.

C.J., “SOAP AFICIONADO” OF SWEET HARVEST FARMS, ACTUALLY STARTED OUT AS A FOLK ARTIST. Having trained at The McNay Art Institute and under such noted artists as Robert Huntsinger and Patricia Sapp, she was selling her art at shows and special events. As luck would have it, she eventually opened a boutique featuring her own work and that of Deb Strain and Carol Endres while offering other items such as clothing, primitive antiques and homemade soaps.

With a medical background and a knowledge of what is nurturing and vital for healthy skin, she came to realize that not all “homemade soaps” are created equal. She found that many left the user itchy, dry and with taut skin.

Always up to a challenge, C.J. decided she would find the secret to creating a cleansing soap that is luxurious and nurturing as well.

After years of research and suggestions from other soap makers, C.J. formulated her own patented cold-processed soap recipe that leaves the skin clean, soft and hydrated.

Using only the highest quality organic oils such as shea butter, olive oil, palm oil, coconut oil, jojoba oil (and others), C.J. also offers soaps for eczema, sensitive skin, acne/blemishes and even an all natural dog soap for …well, your dog.

Sweet Harvest Farms is a cottage industry which is growing by leaps and bounds. A family business, C.J.’s husband, daughter and son help with the everyday logistics of wrapping and packing each bar for shipment. C.J. remains hands-on and creates 40--50 pounds of soap each day.

All of Sweet Harvest Farms products are exclusive family recipes and can be purchased online, in spas, boutiques and specialty stores around the country. It is estimated that there are less than 100 true soap makers left in the U.S. today. C.J., of Sweet Harvest Farms, is proud to be one of them.

“We are making skin happy one bar at a time!”

FOLK | 22 | 2012

SHOPPING

HEATH STILTNER

CITY FARMHOUSE

FRANKLIN, TN.

{111 Bridge Street, Franklin, TN 37064} How did you start City Farmhouse?

We have been in the business for almost 20 years. We had a shop at this location in Franklin, TN, for about six years. We closed it nine years ago when we moved to Western Tennessee to be near our grandchildren. We have been show dealers for the past nine years, exhibiting at Heart of Country, Music Valley, New York Pier, Chicago Botanical Gardens, Marburger Farms, Zapp Hall, and Brimfield, MA. Since we decided to open back up shop, we don’t do shows any longer. Our grandchildren, ages 6, and 9, sell in the shop too. They have a great eye and everything they buy sells. They put the money in their college fund. This month they sold $100.00 but they have sold over $300.00 before!

What style would you say is your favorite?

I would say that City Farmhouse style is French Farmhouse inspired. We use a lot of architectural, industrial, primitives, and American antiques blended with upholstered French furnishings.

How do you find all of your products?

Most of the inventory is our own and we go out pickin’ 3 days a week. We post to Facebook as we are pickin’ and our followers love to follow along with us. It’s like a TV show on Facebook.

So is everything in store antique?

Our shop is unique in that while we have 3 dealers, things are often blended together to create an “at home” feel. We use a lot of old barn doors styled with French upholstered chairs, industrial lighting with early primitives, old bicycles and antique garden pieces, and lots of unique metal pieces repurposed into cool accessories (like a vintage iron playground “crawl through”turned into a cool table). We also have a popular line of handmade French linen pillows, and handmade linen lampshades.

How have your fans and patrons reacted to your shop?

Our inventory turns over about once every 2 to 3 weeks so the shop is constantly changing. Our regular customers come every week to see what is new. We also have customers come from

long distances just to shop with us. We constantly get comments that our shop is very unique.

I hear that you also wrote a book about antiquing — tell me a little about that.

David and I once wrote a book on antiquing all across the U.S. At first we self-published it, then it was picked up by Crown, a division of Random House. We stopped doing it because it was taking away from our antiquing, which is what we love to do.

FOLK | 23 | 2012

ARTISAN’S STORY IVONNE BROWN Hello and welcome to my banner world. My name is Ivonne Brown, also known as “The Crackling Crows”.

About three years ago I got very interested in the hobby of making banners. Although I currently make banners, I have always been very creative and made collectible dolls in the past.

For every occasion, you can display a banner to dress up a room — primitive, whimsical and folk art banners just to name a few. I love making seasonal and year-round banners, but I think I’m best known for my Halloween and Christmas banners ­— oh I’m getting really creative making those. I create banners for graduations, birthdays, weddings, nurseries, and special occasions, etc.

The banners are made from a very sturdy artist board, nothing flimsy — it will last for many years to come. Recently I added some linen banners and fabric banners to my banner collection, this hobby is really versatile.

My husband and great supporter of 12 years and I love to visit antique stores and craft fairs; this is how I fell in love with folk art and primitives. Since I was a child I was always into creating things, my hands wanted to be busy

all the time. As I am making my banners, I’m developing ideas for the next banner. I always try to make unique, one-of-a-kind banners; I have so many ideas in my head....

I keep my art fresh by observing the details of everything around me, such as art, history, nature, and everyday life. I use those details to help evolve them into new ideas for my work.

I put a lot of pride in my work and place meticulous attention to detail. Banners are carefully gift-wrapped and always make nice and affordable gifts for friends, loved ones or yourself.

Besides the hobby of making banners, I also love to cross stitch old samplers in the evenings and I also enjoy photography. I enjoy capturing the moments in life and of course taking pictures of my work comes pretty handy.

Hopefully, one day I will be able to expand my knowledge of photography.

I hope you enjoyed my little story and please visit my blog folkartbythecracklingcrows. blogspot.com or check out my Etsy store for new listings.

“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes, Art is knowing which ones to keep!”

FOLK | 24 | 2012

SHARED STORY READER SUBMISSIONS

Many years ago, when I was around the age of five, I can remember visiting my grandparents’ home. Because my father was in the military, we did not get to spend that much time with his parents, so every visit was a treat. They lived in a meager home on a six-acre farm. My grandfather, Alamander Mullins, made his living working in construction, mostly building houses for the surrounding communities. As a matter of fact, my father helped build the house that my grandparents lived in. Alamander could build the most beautiful houses around, but he chose to live simply. His own house was just put together with plywood and no insulation to speak of—only newspaper or rags in between the slats. I remember the house being very cold in the winter, and the only source of heat was the huge black wood stove in the kitchen and the fireplace in the living room, which was fueled by coal and wood.

A simple set of directions is all it took for my mind to race off into another world. One of my professors at college had given my class a task to write a personalized poem using “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon as inspiration. I am being honest when I say reading the title is all it took before my hands started to write on that blank sheet of lined paper. Before I knew it, I had completed a free verse poem that told the story of my life from my birth in Opelika, Alabama, to present day where I am wearing out my second pair of patent leather peep toes.

I AM FROM MUD FIGHTS AND PATENT LEATHER PEEP TOES I am from the red dirt that stains your clothes but was raised in rich soil that grows the crops.

I am from mud fights and working from dusk till dawn.

I am from homemade items and designer clothes — from worn-out tennis shoes, scuffed up boots and patent leather peep toes.

When we stayed with them, my sisters and I would stay in a bedroom next to the kitchen. Back then, we were small enough to all sleep in the same bed. All of us would bundle up in that bed with at least three or four heavy homemade quilts, with no sheets at all. I remember long before daylight, my grandfather starting a fire in the wood stove in the kitchen, snow outside and frost on the inside of the kitchen windows and us in the bed, warm as toast. Shortly after that, you could smell the wonderful scent of homemade biscuits and gravy.

I am from creamed style sweet corn, freshly caught and fried catfish, and homemade cakes.

I am from family dinner nightly to holiday traditions.

Every morning, when we got to the breakfast table, my grandmother, Maudie Mullins, had a table full of food: biscuits, gravy, bacon, sausage, pork chops, and every other breakfast food you could imagine. Even though I was just barely old enough to see over the table, I will never forget my grandmother asking my mother if I could have a cup of coffee. To say the least, as I was five years old, my mother opted to give me a glass of milk instead.

I am from high expectations and the “do your best” views on life.

I am from “there are more fish in the sea” to “whatever makes you happy” from “a picture says a thousand words” to “actions speak louder.”

I am from “fire and brimstone” to “help thy neighbor” and “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

The scents, the warmth, as well as the feeling of being safe, will be forever ingrained in my mind to my grandparents’ house. I still have a couple of the quilts my grandmother made, and they always remind me of those cold nights spent under those quilts. So when my granddaughter comes to stay with me, I have a fire going in the fireplace, quilts on top of her, and, when she wakes up, the smell of homemade biscuits.

There is nothing better than the smell of wood burning in the fireplace, biscuits in the oven, a warm quilt wrapped around you—nothing beats the sweet comforts of home!

— Debra J. Elliot

I am from endless possibilities, multiple talents, people pleasing, and passionate tears.

I am from life’s opportunities, looking forward to tomorrow, “everything has a reason,” and a never-ending life.

FOLK | 26 | 2012

— Elizabeth Ayer

Sweet Harvest Farms

Unique - Refreshing - Distinctive

Handmade Soap

Retail and Wholesale 813.244.6025

SweetHarvestFarms.com

THE NEBRASKA COTTAGE COMPANY

pare down‌

Contact Owner Kelly Langer at kellylanger@aol.com Or Call us at (402)525-5577 8101 Cooper Ct. Lincoln, NE 68506

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CREATE SUMMER 2012

FOUND

INSPIRED BY: OBJECTS MICHAEL WURM JR.

During the summers of my youth, I had a pretty active imagination. Houses were built from leaves, pools were oceans, forts were built from blankets, and fireflies were magic.

Thankfully, as an adult, my imagination still runs wild. And, while I’m no longer sleeping under blanket forts, my imagination has been a powerful tool in creating unique and beautiful elements for my home.

It’s a passion of mine to take found goods and vintage items that are no longer considered useful or beautiful and give them new life! Wood crates and old ladders hung on walls help to transform a house into home. These one-of-kind touches add life, and a bit of whimsy, to an otherwise lackluster space. I hope these four simple ideas using found objects inspire your imagination. Go grab a mason jar , fill it with fireflies and I’ll meet you in the house of leaves.

FOLK | 29 | 2012

INSPIRED BY...

MICHAEL WURM JR.

One. Vintage soda crates found in the basement of my newly purchased house became functional and artistic shelving in my kitchen.

Stocked with the things I use the most — like salt and pepper, measuring cups and spoons, and cupcake liners — these once dirty crates have been given a new functional life.

Two. A dull painting found in a local thrift shop was brought back to life with dots of acrylic craft paint in brighter colors.

A bright yellow-gold paint job on the frame completes, the look taking this piece from drab to fab!

Three.

Another basement find, this paint-splattered ladder was no longer functional for cleaning leaves from gutters.

Topped with a piece of barn wood and screwed to the wall, this ladder now displays the original blueprints of my 1917 home. The look is polished off with a collection of tools from the past.

Four.

This food strainer, a flea market find, was destined to be repurposed as a planter. Its unique shape and built-in drainage holes makes any dry soil loving plant an instant centerpiece.

Lined with some moss, then filled with dirt, trailing plants are added to give a carefree and fun look to this unconventional planter.

For more fantastic projects like these check out Michael’s blog {inspiredbycharm.com} Michael Wurm owns and operates Old Charm Bed and Breakfast in St. Marys, Pennsylvania.

FOLK | 30 | 2012

H

JUNK FIX

DONNA WILLIAMS

ANG IT UP

Create A Walk-In Closet Styled Bedroom for Pennies

I have a confession: I don’t like hanging up my clothes. I never have. I was one of those teenagers that never saw their bedroom carpet. Unfortunately, old habits die hard. In order to enjoy my current hardwood floor, I set about creating a makeshift walk-in closet. I have always been envious of those having extra storage space — so I decided my bedroom would make a fantastic deluxe closet space.

I even decided to take it one step further and allowed a little nostalgia to inspire the makeover.

Another bonus — the redo was very inexpensive.

Are you ready for a new look with new ideas and little cost? Take a look...

FOLK | 31 | 2012

JUNK FIX

DONNA WILLIAMS Horse Gate Headboard

Pallet Board Wardrobe Wall

Growing up on a 40 acre farm, I was blessed with having horses. When I found this gate in a burn pile, instant memories of evening summertime horse rides along the river came to mind. By complete chance, this gate was the perfect size for my king sized bed. If you look closely, you’ll see a horse tried out the gate for a mid-day snack.

Rustic wood reminds me of the big barn that stood in my childhood yard.

I always thought the weathered patina was charming, even if my mom insisted it needed new paint. Reclaimed and pallet wood was the perfect candidate for this functional feature wall.

1. Find the studs in your wall to attach the gate with screws. In order to install at the proper height, I used my traditional bed as the guide.

2. Install hooks so you can have some fun changing out your decor. Rustic wreaths were used in this case.

1. Collect odd sizes of pallet boards or reclaimed lumber until you have enough to fill a wall.

2. For a vintage plaster look, prime your wall white. Install the boards in a vertical fashion with intentional gaps.

Cut to size using a miter saw where necessary. Once again, each board took only one screw.

3. Use a level to straighten the boards

FOLK | 32 | 2012

for accurate alignment.

4. Install eclectic hooks from all kinds of things you find around the house.

Be creative — after all, anything that hooks can be a hook!

5. Hang up your wardrobe and vacuum your tidy floor!

Jeans Ladder A ladder’s strong, straight lines and repurposing abilities have me collecting them at a fast pace.

Dressed-up Dresser Dressers are necessary — but they certainly don’t have to be boring. This model, once pink and fresh out of a barn, had great vintage lines. A coat of white paint and a brown glaze was

JUNK FIX

DONNA WILLIAMS

You can visit Donna’s blog for more creative projects at funkyjunkinteriors.blogspot. com and Funky Junk Interiors on Facebook

Create A Board and Batten Wall (from page 31) I love the character of an old rambling farm house like the one I grew up in.

Rather than a sea of bland drywall, add intricate molding and vintage woodwork for a little charm and personality.

The traditional way to add such charm can be very expensive. Here’s my twist — geared for a designer that loves to change her mind.

used to brighten it up. An extra detail in the form of house numbers gave it some unique style. The over-sized number two was created just for fun.

Everything else on the dresser came from the thrift store for mere pennies.

1. Purchase some 8’ tall boards. I used 1x2’s and 1x4’s for a random pattern.

2. Paint your chosen wall with white paint. I like a quality latex kitchen/bath eggshell.

3. Sand, prime and paint the boards the same white.

4. Attach the boards to the wall using one screw in the middle; this allows you to tilt as desired. Using a level to guide you, add more screws if

FOLK | 33 | 2012

necessary.

5. Install the boards in a random fashion, as if your wall has been pieced together. This is what really adds the instant character. Touch up the screws with white paint for a finished look.

For a more permanent wall treatment, use finishing nails to attach the boards and follow up with silicone to remove any gaps.

This bedroom is now a fun, casual, and functional room that makes me smile.

Think about the things that inspire you, and then use them to create your own unique space. Doing it all on a budget makes the results even more rewarding. Plus it leaves more cash to spend on a fresh wardrobe for your new walk-in closet!

S

outhern Ingenuity

If you’re searching for true Southern style, look no further than Becky Cunningham’s blog Buckets of Burlap. After encountering the wonderful world of blogging in summer of 2010, Becky decided to chronicle the transformation of her 2005 modular house into a home with a “vintage country farmhouse” style. The blog has documented the changes in Cunningham’s home as she has slowly made updates room by room. Buckets of Burlap allows Becky’s readers to achieve the same farmhouse style that she has developed in her home, by becoming an avenue for sharing how she creates this style using unique flea market finds. “I want my readers to see that even a newer home can have character by adding architectural elements and vintage items,” says Becky. A veritable treasure-trove of great design, Becky’s Louisiana home showcases a unique blend of country style and repurposed objects. Her passion for decorating is surpassed only by her love for the South, her homeland. She defines “Southern” as her way of life. “Around our farm, it’s all in the way you treat others … being generous, kindhearted, and well-mannered.”

Living on a farm in northern Louisiana has given her a pioneer spirit. She reuses and repurposes abandoned and time-worn objects to create this signature farmhouse style. An old bucket becomes

a light fixture, and an old picket fence becomes a headboard. Her imagination stems from her upbringing, and she credits her family with instilling in her a good work ethic and a sense of creativity.

She cites her biggest creative influence as being her mom. “She was such a ‘decorator,;” says Becky, now a mother to three of her own.

“Everyone used to say ‘her house needs to be in a magazine.’”

However, it wasn’t until her mother passed away in 2009 that Becky felt her decorating style come alive. “All those things she once loved — gardening, decorating, and entertaining — were sparked within me. So, I started my blog, Buckets of Burlap, so that I could tell my story-how we are turning our little home into a farmhouse one DIY project at a time, and how my mom influenced it all,” says Becky. She expresses how wonderful it is that her blog allows her to connect with other women, and mothers that are so inspired to design by their families.

“My aesthetic was greatly shaped from my parents, who taught me the importance of working hard, entertaining with big meals, and hosting family holiday gatherings.” Family is something that continues to inspire her Southern identity. It is the most important thing in her life, and her design communicates that focus through

Text: Gina Young | Photo: Becky Cunningham FOLK | 34 | 2012

its simplicity and functionality. Her home is always open to her family and friends, like so many homes in the South.

Her home is often the scene of an evening spent with “family and friends roasting hot dogs around the bonfire.”

Becky, a former kindergarten teacher, married her high school sweetheart, Shannon. Besides her husband and three children, Becky’s family also includes their farm animals— two mini pot-bellied pigs, hens, two lambs, and a chocolate lab. The entire family embraces the country life through “baking homemade cookies, fishing in the pond, roasting marshmallows, and tending to the farm.”

The family’s hobby farm is also a topic of discussion on Buckets of Burlap. “I keep my readers updated with photos of new baby ducks and lambs and how to grow an herb garden,” explains Becky. Living off the land is one way that her family strives to live a simpler life. They enjoy a slower pace of life that includes working together on the farm to harvest the many fruits and vegetables they grow. It’s not only fun and games on the farm, however. The family works together to ensure the success of their farm. Besides growing their own vegetables, flowers, and herbs, they also gather fresh eggs from their hens. In creating a balance of work and play, they are able to spend quality time as a family.

In addition to room makeovers and farming, Becky also enjoys posting table-setting ideas. “I share ideas on tablescapes for entertaining for a party (like the photos here, of an ice cream social) or a simple dinner for two,” she explains of her simple and rustic tablescapes. She also claims to have decorator’s A.D.D., joking, “I rearrange furniture often, and I show my readers how I refresh a room by simply moving things around, or ‘shopping my house’.” She posts about shopping trips to antique malls or flea markets and increasing her collections of antique and vintage items such as vintage scales or grain sacks.

Everything is functional, yet there is a simple lived-in beauty to her humble home. Becky is very proud of her reclaimed barn wood kitchen island. “It was our first and favorite major step in transforming our home into a cozy and comfortable farmhouse.” That was the turning point for Becky in creating the style her home has today. Since 2008, she has worked to develop her own unique rustic country aesthetic in her home. Her husband Shannon helps in bringing her vision to life by lending his carpentry skills. “He has used reclaimed barn wood to create the dining room farm table, coffee cart, and a rustic headboard.” Between her husband’s craftsmanship and flea market finds, Becky has been able to create a comfortable and creative home that is all her own.

Whether she is feeding farm animals or decorating her home, Becky Cunningham lives out a lifestyle of the South.

Her originality is visible in both her photographs as well as her carefully curated blog. Since the launch of her blog, Becky has also been inspired to open an online shop, which will sell vintage farmhouse home decor. She is hoping to open it by summer 2012 As her blog has grown, Becky has sowed friendships with many readers that have blossomed.

Of these friendships, Becky says, “Where I felt a void in my life from losing my mom, I cherish these friends who share in my love for the simple country life.” No matter what she does, Becky shows us the meaning of true Southern charm and ingenuity.

FOLK | 37 | 2012

BECKY’S FARMHOUSE DECORATING TIPS 1. If you want to incorporate vintage country farmhouse into your decorating, start off by painting rooms in shades of white.

Whites give a neutral, clean, crisp background and allows the focus to be on the vintage accessories.

2. Use architectural elements such as old windows, doors, or columns to add character to a newer home.

3. Don’t be afraid to change things around. Rearranging pieces of furniture or moving items to another room will give a “tired” room a whole new look.

4. Mix different textures, such as burlap or grain sacks, wooden elements, and industrial or metal items, to add variety and a rustic feel.

5. Give outdated or dark pieces of furniture a coat of white paint. Or use reclaimed lumber to build small tables or a headboard.

SWEET RE-TREATS DEB KENNEDY

Front Porch Party HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU HEARD THE PHRASE, “SOUTHERN IS A STATE OF MIND”? The graciousness of

Southern living and hospitality can be enjoyed no matter where you make a home. Having recently relocated from a farm on an island in Washington state to suburban Orange County, California, I can attest to the truth of that venerable maxim.

It’s not about your geographic location – it’s about your style.

As a child I grew up in both Northern and Southern California — a far cry from the genteel life of Georgia and the Carolinas that I loved to read about. Thanks to stories from my relatives, both Southerners and Northerners, I grew to adore everything Southern.

My favorite book, and film, is Gone With the Wind, followed closely by the Savannah Trilogy by Eugenia Price, and my lifelong heroine is Miss Scarlett O’Hara. My grandmother

FOLK | 40 | 2012

SWEET RE-TREATS DEB KENNEDY

actually went to grammar school with Miss Olivia de Havilland, the actress who played Miss Melanie Wilkes. And yes, I do refer to women as “Miss,” even if they are married.

My favorite music is American jazz, everything from New Orleans Basin Street Blues, Harlem Swing and Ragtime, to Gershwin’s Broadway melodies about Porgy and Bess in the Good Old Summertime. In a stroke of sheer luck, I attended Savanna High School in Southern California and wrote for the school newspaper, the Rebel Dispatch. Our marching band’s signature tune was “Robert E. Lee”, and the rebel flag was flown on game days against our rivals, the Magnolia High Sentinels.

Despite my physical location, the South has always been part of my life and who I am. And, as I was ever-so-graciously reassured when I finally fulfilled a lifelong dream to visit Savannah and Charleston a few years ago, “Honey, you got here as soon as you could, bless your heart!”

My move down the West Coast this month comes with the blessing of joining decorative forces with my mom, a veritable entertaining maven. The parties and gatherings she throws are legendary among her friends and neighbors. I have helped her to host parties at her home in the past and I always revel in the time spent together. We work so well together and enjoy each other’s company.

When I shared with her the subject of my current column, her eyes lit up and she offered anything I needed to complete the photo styling and shoot for my story. How can a girl say no to that? Mom and I dug through some of the bins that I brought along on my recent move; finding my silver, china, and accessories. We raided her china cabinet for glassware and linens, and then set to work on a plan for transforming her California back patio into a Southern porch.

I should tell you that we did this while Dad was at work.

Tearing apart his lovely tropical-themed lanai to style it as a

FOLK | 41| 2012

SWEET RE-TREATS DEB KENNEDY

Southern porch would have sent him into certain shock! He won’t have a clue until he sees this issue in print though — and I may pour him a glass of fine bourbon before I hand him the magazine, just to be safe.

It took only a few hours for my enthusiastic “assistant” and I to create a simple setting, appropriate for any summer gathering. Using heirloom crystal and linens, gathered vintage accessories, fresh flowers, and lively jazz music to set the scene, helps to tell a Southern story. It may be Southern California, but there’s not a beach boy in sight.

Imagine a group of ladies, all dressed in white and straw hats, gathered here for a light brunch — mint juleps included. Perhaps a family luncheon is more your style, everyone in seersucker and khakis, sipping iced tea and lemonade while lunching on simple pulled pork sandwiches. A setting like this transports your guests to the South, home of hospitality and gracious entertaining.

SIMPLE IDEAS FOR GRACIOUS OUTDOOR ENTERTAINING: Float fresh berries, herbs, or even flower blossoms in a jug of iced water.

Patriotic flags inspire the perfect cool color scheme: red, white, and blue. Offer single-serving foods with their own covers or from covered cake plates. Yes, mason jars do mix well with fine crystal glassware and silver! Stack plates on ramekins to create a tiered server for finger foods. Provide quilts or a fire pit for the onset of cool evenings.

Mom and I had a great time with this project. We sat back after the photos had been shot and proofed, listened to Ella Fitzgerald crooning, and enjoyed a tall glass of iced tea. It was the perfect way to “wrap the shoot” and underscored that entertaining can be a pleasant experience from beginning to end, whether there are a dozen guests or just two.

After we put everything back together so Dad wouldn’t see the incredible mess we had made of his backyard, Mom asked me what my plan was for my column for FOLK’s next issue. I smiled, and with my best imitation of a Southern belle said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.”

I’ve created the perfect summer music playlist for your parties! http:// pl.st/p/23063654667

FOLK | 42 | 2012

PATTERN

ANGIE UPTON

old annie

Visit our blog {americanfolklife.blogspot. com} to print off the pattern and how-to instructions.

FOLK | 43 | 2012

TRAVEL

Seminole

SUMMER 2012

STEPPING OUT IN

TEXT: MK SHAW | PHOTO: JEN O’CONNOR

Once you’ve nosed your car off the crowded interstate to the brick-lined streets of Sanford, you’ll see why people fall under the spell of this charming little town. Situated just north of Orlando, amidst moss draped trees and wide green parks, visitors will discover plenty of fun alternatives to the tourist attractions of the big city. Our Southern hospitality is palpable,

from the front porches of 19th-century homes and bungalows, to the friendly merchants of 1st Street who’ll invite you to pull up a chair and visit a while. Long known as a mecca for antique hunters, Sanford’s historic downtown has blossomed into a vital arts district with galleries, eateries, and live music venues that offer something for every taste.

FOLK | 44 | 2012

COUNTY

In the heart of Seminole County, Sanford offers theme park day trippers the perfect get away from long lines and crowded parking lots. Locals find it a delightful choice for a girls day out lunch and shopping junket.

With help from business minded visionaries, the downtown has enjoyed a renaissance in recent years. While many American mom and

FOLK | 45 | 2012

pop enterprises have died out in the wake of strip malls and chain stores, Sanford has struck a healthy balance of galleries, thrift and consignment stores, restaurants, bars, and other creative retail shops.

The small-town vibe is evident in places like the Colonial Room restaurant, where crowds of regulars occupy the time-worn booths for

hearty diner-style food and the latest gossip and town news. Oh, and all the locals know that fried chicken is served on Thursday, so expect a wait for your lunch.

For the best in Southern folk art, a stop at Jeanine Taylor Folk Art is a must. You’ll find favorites like Ruby Williams, Missionary Mary Proctor, Theresa Disney, Mr. Imagination, Ab

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the Flagman, John “Cornbread” Anderson, and more. The 5,000 square foot gallery shares space with Gallery on First, which houses eight working artist studios and complements the folk art collection with a breadth of variety. You might be lucky to find the winsome French bulldog, Frankie, serving as greeter on any given day.

Homes are lovingly maintained and nod to Southern style and classic architecture.

Locals and tourists alike browse the wares at each Saturday’s market. From orchids and okra to cupcakes and kettle corn, a bounty of fresh food and goodies is presented in the charming Magnolia Square.

Taylor’s spacious gallery is host to a full calendar of folk art shows, visiting artists in residence and workshops. Jen O’Connor’s spirited Earth Angels swoop into town every March to enjoy lovely weather, adoring fans, and the charms of Sanford. The 2013 calendar is already marked for their popular “heART of Winter” event on March 1 and 2.

Just off the town’s main square, you can submerge yourself in the densely packed shelves of Maya Books and give the namesake cat a scratch or say hello to the canine mascot, Layla. Just across 1st Street, when you wander into Miss Libby’s Antique Emporium, you can talk to Miss Libby herself. Or, more than likely, you’ll be listening to Miss Libby, as she loves to share stories of her wares.

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The hub of activity on Saturdays is the Sanford Farmer’s Market in Magnolia Square.

With the historic clock tower hovering over the busy plaza, you’ll find produce vendors, locally harvested honey, home-baked goods, well-tended orchids, hand made items, and live music. Cavorting kids will most likely be throwing pennies in the fountain or playing with friends under the shaded awning while

Streets beg to be walked with brick-lined by-ways and trees utterly dripping with Spanish Moss. Here proud Sanford resident and JT Folk Art Gallery Manager, MK Shaw shows the visiting Earth Angels crew some of the prettiest blocks in the town. The gals wandered shady streets before meandering through the farmers’ market.

Each March, the Earth Angels visit Sanford to enjoy the town and the warmth of Southern hospitality. The Earth Angels ensconce themselves in the renowned Jeanine Taylor Folk Art Gallery in the heart of downtown Sanford and take in all the town has to offer the artful spirit.

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wafts of fragrant kettle corn sweeten the air.

Find your way to the Magnolia Square Market and you might think you’re in Europe. The proprietors are German and they stock dry goods and candies straight from Deutschland along with a fine assortment of cheeses, meats, potato salad and fresh desserts in the deli. The chocolate-covered rum balls are crowd favorites! Beer connoisseurs will enjoy browsing the home brew aisles.

Heading south on Magnolia Avenue, you’ll be treated to one of the most scenic drives in the historic district. Centuries-old oak trees arch gracefully over the brick street. Tidily kept yards and fern-draped front porches are

lined up side by side for blocks. Residents of the “hizzy dizzy” (a local’s nickname for the historic district) are proud of maintaining their homes and showing off the charms of 1880’s architecture. You’ll see evidence of that from the many preservation award banners given out by the Sanford Historic Trust organization.

Just two blocks from the downtown shopping area is a pedestrian promenade that fronts freshwater Lake Monroe. Boaters will appreciate the fact that the north-flowing St. Johns River winds through the lake on its way to Jacksonville and the Atlantic Ocean. You can reach any ocean in the world from our port!

If you time your visit for one of the monthly

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citywide events, you can catch the festive Alive After Five street party on the second Thursday of the month. On the fourth Friday of the month is the Art Walk, with multiple venues featuring original art. The Food Truck Bazaar rolls into town on the first Saturday of every month and you can enjoy a vintage car show with the Celery City Cruisers on the last Saturday of every month except November and December.

FOR A SMALL TOWN, SANFORD SURE PACKS A FUN PUNCH!

ime

in the metropolitan south

ARTICLE Gavin O’Neill PHOTOGRAPHY Jeremy Ryan Hatfield A wise woman once told me that Southern people do not sweat; they glisten. On one particularly sticky evening, I began doubting these words as I sat on my friend’s porch listening to a neighborhood folk band in Nashville, Tennessee. No tonic water could quench the thirst I had created, or keep the heat at bay. It was as if the whole city had broken into a life-threatening fever. However, slowly and reluctantly, I felt myself slip into the pace of life around me. As the beat of the bass found my wrist, it spun and snapped my fingers to keep the time that seemed to drift by like smoke around me. It was a memory that forged new bonds I had been waiting my whole life to know. It was a return to the natural side of proper, civil living. It was the lifestyle that paid no mind to the clockwork of a 9-to-5 gig but rather the tempo of your mother’s heart and the song your granddaddy passed down to you.

Big lights in the little city, the metropolitan South. Slow enough to watch the flowers wilt, but fast enough to dump you on the side of the road.

Nashville thrives in the heat of its spring and summertime. No city I’ve seen blooms, and fades, into such sultry evenings. It’s a bouquet of lifestyles, activities, events, and traditions that spring up with the early April buds. Every neighborhood boasts its own park, which hosts a handful of socials when the weather is swelling with humidity. Seasons here change in an hour — that’s sixty minutes tops.

You’ll go to bed freezing and wake up to a blooming and sunny spring fever. From the trendy, tattooed boroughs of East Nashville, to the glitz and glam of Brentwood, it’s an assortment as unique as the flowers that open with the morning sun.

No matter how hot it gets, Nashvillians prefer to be outside. Whether it’s a concert in the park, a bike ride through downtown, or enjoying a new novel under a willow tree, locals never mind wiping the sweat off their brow. The Schermerhorn Symphony takes on several outdoor projects during the spring and summertime that brings music to whoever finds it suitable for their summer evenings.

These events come without a bill, which makes classical music tangible to all of Nashville’s walks of life. The Symphony building downtown also hosts events completely free to the public with different music performed in each room. Downtown also hosts an Art Crawl the first Saturday of each month.

This brings locals to their local art with a sip-and-strut sensibility. Each art gallery opens up for guests to walk in and out, serving beverages along the way. Local galleries and the Symphony have been a crucial stepping-stone in preserving the culture that uniquely describes this Southern city.

Nashville is proud of its musical history, and the landscape of the city would not be the same without its landmark venues. However you don’t have to buy tickets to the Ryman to have the best seats in the house.

Almost every bar and coffee shop hosts local bands and break out singer/ songwriters with limitless talent. Time passes so sweetly with a new tune to listen to and a beverage in your hand.

Even street corners serve as grand stages to aspiring musicians playing for a cool buck or two. Nashville is all about the grassroots of the talented — creating a community of famous locals that are big enough to tear up the stage at the downtown bar on 3rd and Lindsley, and humble enough to play for their friends on the porch when the day comes to an end.

Nashville likes to remember. Its memory of the past serves as its guide to a bright new future. Whether it’s the majestic Parthenon in Centennial Park that’s stood since the World’s Fair came through the South, or mothers that teach their daughters how to shuck corn on the porch like their grandmothers taught them, traditions are preserved in our local’s memories. We like our summers because it brings people from all over together for fun, for knowledge, for music, and for memories. So if you think you’d sweat or glisten, come on down and test the waters. You never know what memory is waiting to bloom for you in Nashville, Tennessee.

WEAR

SUMMER 2012

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Judy Hill began making ties, she was only using her extra and talent for sewing to outfit her sons but even she says she was surprised, “how blessed she was to find her niche in the market.” Starting in January of 2010, Judy Hill used her skills as a seamstress and her knowledge of true Southern fashion to start making washable 100% cotton ties for her sons. James, president of his fraternity, and Cameron, a student at UVA College of Medicine, were both avid wearers of bow ties and it was Judy’s idea to make them for her sons. She started making 100% cotton ties after her son was working in a hospital was encouraged not to wear ties after a recent study revealed the number of doctors who had spread illness by not washing their ties. Judy was raised around the textile industry in North Carolina and recognized the study as an opportunity to start a line of all-cotton ties that were not only suitable for any occasion but also washable. At the same time James was unknowingly wearing his mother’s creations after she had sent him a collection of them. James’ ties quickly gained popularity among his southern fraternity brothers at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill at which point his mother was forced to admit that she had been making them for him. The classic fabrics that Judy uses for her ties quickly gained popularity and with help from her sons and a great community of seamstresses, Judy began what is now known as High Cotton Ties.

Judy, James, and the Hill family take their motto to heart. While growing their business, they retained their goal of staying local and American-made, still producing their ties close to their home in North Carolina. With help from James, her spokesperson and marketing expert, Cameron, who is in charge of web and graphic design, and Patrick, a campus representative for the brand, Judy continues to produce classic bow ties in timeless patterns such as tattersall, gingham, and dyed linens.

Recently Judy Hill was given a unique opportunity to produce a cotton T-shirt with the low-

FROM DIRT TO SHIRT

A TRUE SOUTHERN ACCENT — that is the motto of High Cotton Ties, a North Carolina based tie manufacturer that not only imbibes their own motto but has also become a great American success story. When

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FROM DIRT TO SHIRT HEATH STILTNER

est carbon footprint. This launched a new campaign and effort that they call From Dirt to Shirt. The average T-shirt travels 17,000 miles during production, while High Cotton’s T-shirt travels only 750 miles from the beginning stages of growing the cotton to the finished product. North Carolina is the third largest producer of cotton in the United States and 50% of that crop is exported annually to produce items that are then imported. Judy was also lucky enough to acquire a prize in this past year’s harvest, the first 100% organic cotton crop known in North Carolina’s agricultural history which they will use to create an organic polo. Judy says, “Cotton is staple in Southern history and it is a blessing to get an opportunity to make such an inspiring product that creates so much change.” James says, “The ultimate goal is to bring the cotton back to the south.

Not just to grow it, but also to weave it and produce quality American-made clothing with it.”

From Dirt to Shirt also formed a partnership between High Cotton Ties and fellow North Carolina business TS Designs. The company prides itself on producing quality Americanmade T-shirts and sharing the story of the people involved in their production. Eric Henry, president of TS Designs, recognizes that, “While their products may cost more, they have something more to offer the consumer.

“The products carry a story of everyone that has touched the product along the way.”

James agrees and says that this the way that they market these shirts, as a product that has more than just quality construction— they’re products with hearts and souls.

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I can vouch for that commitment. I was lucky enough to sit down with James over dinner to discuss the company’s efforts in their new undertaking and the company’s history. During that dinner I learned more than I could ever learn about a company, its heritage, and its practice with one simple gesture. I wore my favorite High Cotton madras tie to the dinner, a tie I had bought at Graves Cox, my local men’s store, for Keeneland last Spring. I removed my tie sometime during the dinner and after a quick inspection of all the stitches by James, I knew more than just its color, name, and origin of purchase. James and Judy have a small staff of seamstresses and know them all personally, and in the quick moment that he saw my tie, James knew exactly which of their employees had made it. It was an amazing gesture that I doubt I could ever see should I meet any other clothing manufacturer.

That is the appeal of High Cotton; they’re not just a tie manufacturer from North Carolina. They have a heritage and a story, and it is with their own story that they highlight the stories of the people that allow them to make their products.

Not only is High Cotton Ties a True Southern Accent, they are also a True American Story.

— Heath Stiltner

highcottonties.com

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A

PROPER THE STORY BEHIND SOUTHERN PROPER

THE AMERICAN SOUTH HAS ALWAYS HAD A STYLE OF ITS OWN. FROM THE SLOW LIFESTYLE OF FRONT PORCH CONVERSATIONS AND SWEET TEA FROM MASON JARS, TO THE ELEGANT PLANTATION HOMES THAT DOMINATED MUCH OF THE SOUTH’S FARMLAND. The South also had its own sense of fashion, one that exhibits a sense of gentlemanliness while being as flowery as a bird-mating ritual. The men of the

Gentleman South have always embraced a style that is dependent on bright pastels, bow ties, and an outfit that can go from the church to the hunting fields to the farm.

Emmie Howard and Reagan Hardy Howell of Southern Proper know this style all too well, and the ties that they produce reflect it in every pattern and every stripe. Both women are natives of the South and cite it as the biggest influence for their brand.

TEXT: HEATH STILTNER | PHOTO: SOUTHERN PROPER

Emmie, a farmer’s daughter from Gold Dust, TN, a rural farmtown of 500, grew up on 3000 acres of cotton by the Mississippi. She likens her raising to a Mark Twain flashback, complete with views of the Mississippi River and its wayfaring river boats. Her father is a third-generation cotton farmer and raised her in church surrounded by the townsfolk in their Sunday best. She grew up harvesting cotton with her father and has a fond appreciation for it.

Reagan had a very different upbringing, but one that is no less Southern. She grew up in Eastern North Carolina, just one hour from the coast.

Her family spent a lot of time on the coast in their beach house. Like Emmie, she was raised in church and accompanied her parents in their best outfits. Her father is a Southern gentleman and a former fraternity man, so she was always inspired by her dad’s keen sense of fashion and affinity for bow ties. She is the owner of the brand’s logo and mascot, Beau, her black Labrador retriever who she was walking while talking with me about the brand. She describes him as a diva dog who always seems to get his way.

The two met while attending college in Georgia at Brenau Women’s College in Gainesville. They joined the same sorority in 1999 and became close friends. Both women shared an appreciation for classic Southern men’s fashion and have said that they both “loved a man in a seersucker suit and a bow tie!” Each of them have their own unique style that can be described as preppy. Reagan says that “Most people think money is the biggest factor in preppiness, but it really isn’t. Being preppy isn’t about fitting into a certain social class — it’s about liking classic American style and appreciating more traditional things.”

After graduating, Emmie had a job in marketing and worked with many famous interior designers. She says that her experience working with Goody, a hair product manufacturer, helped her decide to go into the fashion industry after she was able to experience a career in buying textiles. Teaming up with Reagan, who also worked for the marketing firm, the two started devising a business plan that ultimately became Southern Proper. “There was a space in the market that we wanted to fill, a niche in classic Southern men’s fashion,� says Reagan. In 2005 the two launched Southern Proper and quickly gained popularity in the South for their playful bow ties, called Beaus, and neckties, called Gents. Their ties originally featured images of southern staples like cotton, moonshine jugs, and quail, but they have recently added a line of stripes to satisfy the more traditional Southern gentlemen.

Each line that Southern Proper releases has a theme that they like to follow. Themes that have been popular include Southern farming and a line for the sportsman and game hunter. They have two lines this year that they are excited to release. The first collection features images of beach life and will be released this spring for summer 2012. The line features fun images like convertibles and an adorable pattern containing bikini bottoms that has been named Topless. The fall line is a collaboration that the pair did with Georgian artist William Lamb. William Lamb & Son is an outfitter for sportsmen and also carries fine art that depicts the hunt. The collaboration between the two brands has yielded a line of ties featuring gallery-worthy depictions of sportsman themes that have delighted the retailers of Southern Proper. Emmie says that the line brings back memories of the hunting safety classes that her father signed her up for when she was ten. The collection is set to debut this fall. In addition to these lines of ties, Southern Proper also has a line of Sweet Tees, their Pima cotton T-shirts, that are set to release soon.

Reagan and Emmie say that they are blessed to be given the opportunity to outfit the Southern men they love in the style they adore. The two travel the South every year displaying their brand at trunk shows and sporting events. {southernproper.com}

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SOUTH

SOJOURNS TO THE SOUTH DAVID GOBELI

TAKE A RIGHT BY THE OLD, WHITE, Methodist Church and follow Live Oak Methodist Church Road past the signs for the logging company. Continue on when the crackled eggshell asphalt abruptly becomes the compact red earth of the dirt road. When you start seeing the diamond-shaped North Carolina Bear Sanctuary signs you know you are getting close. About a mile after the grey, weathered, abandoned house you will see a split rail fence and two driveways. Skip the first one. Heed the warning or your car will end up buried to the axles like the school bus that one year. The substitute driver did not know he wasn’t supposed to use that one to turn the bus around.

Pull into the second driveway and there will be my childhood home. A wood-sided, one story, Southern-sun-faded house set on one acre in rural North Carolina.

While it was not the first home I lived in, it is the first I remember. I remember riding the school bus home during the week and having it pull in our second driveway. Our house was the last stop on that long dirt track and offered no easy way back to paved road besides turning around and making its way back to the white church.

I remember my best friend, Justin, and I playing in the back yard; running around like the wild, country kids we were.

We caught bugs, were always mindful of the copperhead snakes that could be stalking the chickens, played “army,” and ran with my dogs. I remember climbing the great pines that the lumber company harvested. I remember the ol’ timers with their cragged faces and rough hands that would tell stories of days gone by. We would sit on our back porch just wasting time and gossiping, always a jar of tea brewing in the sun. Our skin would bronze in the delightful Southern sun, and my drawl grew thick and slow.

I have since lost the tanned skin indicative of a Southerner.

I’ve lost the speech patterns and the instinct to watch out for copperheads.

My family moved from North Carolina to Panama when I was eight, then to Washington State, and finally settled in the Midwest, where both of my parents were from originally. I now consider myself a true Wisconsinite and would not give up that proud title for anything. The one thing I will not let go of is the memories of my time in the South and my love of the food that is buried so deep in the culture.

Southern school lunches included grits drenched in butter, biscuits and gravy, fried pies, braised greens, and okra. In those days kids did not stick up their noses to vegetables, even the okra, and the ubiquitous schoolhouse cafeteria pizza hardly ever made its way onto our trays. Puddings were made from scratch as an after-school treat was one of my absolute favorites.

I still crave that down-home food. When I am feeling under the weather or need a giant dose of comfort, out come my versions of the Southern classics I remember so fondly from my childhood. Some of the dishes are relatively new to me, discovered in the last few years in the great cities of the Southern states.

These recipes span a wide range of country foods that I have been so very fortunate to enjoy and add to my own fattening collection. From Kentucky comes the famous Hot Brown, a delicious blend of a French mornay sauce with thickly sliced toast, turkey, tomatoes, and bacon. From Appalachia I’ve mixed roasted sweet potatoes with one of the most delicious members of the onion family — ramps. Coastal cities like Savannah and New Orleans taught me the power of the shrimp and grits. Braised collard greens and black-eyed peas play gloriously with the most wonderful of the Southern meat — pork. Then there is the cornbread, of which I can sit down and eat as complete meal, and oxtails. They are a great soul food cut of meat that is a rare delicacy in today’s boneless, skinless society.

I challenge you — cook some oxtails, bake some cornbread, invite all of your friends and family over, and then pour yourself a tall glass of cold sun tea. Let the summer sun sink through closed eyelids and remember the South.

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Shrimp and Grit Cakes Serves 4 2 cups water 1 cup half & half 1 cup heavy cream 1 ¼ cup grits 1 ½ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon black pepper 2 tablespoons vegetable oil 4 oz shredded cheddar cheese 4 slices thick cut bacon 1 lb shrimp, peeled and patted dry 1/4 cup lemon juice 2 tablespoons parsley, chopped 1 cup sliced green onions 1 clove garlic, minced In large pot bring water, half and half, cream, and salt and pepper to a boil. Add grits and cook, stirring constantly until liquid is absorbed and grits are soft, approximately 15 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in cheese. In a parchment-lined baking sheet, pour grits, smooth the top and refrigerate until set, approximately 1 hour.

Invert baking pan and remove grits from pan. Cut into 3x3 inch squares. Heat skillet on medium heat and add oil. Gently add grit cakes and cook until browned, approximately 4 minutes, flip and cook other side.

Once both sides are browned, remove to baking sheet. Place baking sheet in a low oven to keep warm.

In a heavy skillet, add bacon slices. Turn heat to medium and cook bacon until crispy.

Remove bacon from pan and drain. In pan with bacon renderings, add shrimp. Cook, stirring occasionally, until shrimp starts to turn pink. Add lemon juice, parsley, green onions, and garlic. Cook 2-3 minutes longer until shrimp is done, add crumbled bacon.

Remove grit cakes from oven. Divide evenly between 4 plates and spoon shrimp over cakes.

Hot Brown Serves 2 2 tablespoons butter 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 2 cups heavy cream 1/3 cup Pecorino Romano cheese, plus 1 tablespoon for garnish salt & pepper to taste 14 oz. sliced roasted turkey

2 slices thick cut white bread, toasted, crust trimmed 4 slices of crispy bacon 2 Roma tomatoes, quartered 1 tablespoon parsley, chopped Preheat broiler.

In saucepan over medium heat, melt butter.

Add flour and mix until smooth. Cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Add heavy cream.

Cook while stirring until thickened, about 3-5 minutes. Add cheese, salt, and pepper, stirring until smooth.

In 2 oven-safe shallow single serving baking dishes, layer toast. Divide turkey over toast.

Ladle sauce over turkey and add tomatoes.

Layer bacon over everything and sprinkle with reserved cheese over top.

Place under broiler until cheese sauce is hot, bubbly, and slightly browned. Sprinkle with parsley. Serve immediately.

Bacon-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Red Eye Gravy and Braised Collard Greens Serves 4 Pork Tenderloin: 1 pound sliced bacon 1 pork tenderloin Red Eye Gravy: Drippings from pork tenderloin 1/2 cup coffee ½-1/2 cup pork or chicken stock 1 tablespoon brown sugar 1 tablespoon tomato paste Salt and pepper to taste Collard Greens: 2 oz salt pork, diced 2 pounds collard greens, washed and trimmed 1/2 cup pork or chicken stock Tenderloin and Gravy: Preheat oven to 350. On a sheet of parchment paper, layer bacon lengthwise, slightly overlapping until it is the length of the tenderloin. Lay tenderloin on the side closest to you and roll, as you would sushi or pigs in a blanket. Place tenderloin on a parchmentlined baking sheet and bake until bacon is browned and pork reached 160 degrees in the center. Remove from oven and let rest. (continued on next page)

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SOJOURNS TO THE SOUTH DAVID GOBELI

In a hot skillet, add drippings from tenderloin.

Add in coffee, chicken stock, brown sugar, and tomato paste. Whisk until smooth and heat to boiling. Add salt and pepper to taste. Thinly slice tenderloin and drizzle with gravy.

Collards: In heavy pot over medium-high heat, brown salt pork. Add collard greens and stir. Add stock and cover. Turn down heat to a simmer and let greens cook for 15 minutes or until desired texture is reached.

Fried Sweet Potatoes with Bacon, Ramps, and Mushrooms Serves 4 3-4 slices bacon, chopped 2 sweet potatoes, washed, peeled, and

diced ½ pound mushrooms, diced 4 oz ramps, washed, trimmed, and chopped Heat skillet over medium-low heat. Add bacon and cook until browned. Remove from skillet and reserve for later. Turn up heat to medium and add potatoes to skillet and cook in the bacon grease. Once browned and softened slightly, add mushrooms. Once potatoes are fully cooked, push all to one side of the pan.

Add ramps and cook for 3 minutes. Add bacon back to pan and stir. Add a small amount of water and scrape along the bottom of the pan to release the bits. Stir again and serve.

Corned Corn Bread with Hot Honey Serves 6 Cornbread: 2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour 1 ½ cup cornmeal, white or yellow ½ cup sugar

4 teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon salt 1 ¾ cup milk 2 eggs 5 tablespoons melted butter 2 cups canned corn Hot Honey: 1 cup honey 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes Cornbread Preheat oven to 400. Lightly oil a cast iron skillet or 9” baking dish. In a large bowl, stir together dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, mix milk, eggs, and melted butter. Stir wet into dry ingredients. Stir until smooth. Add corn and mix until incorporated. Pour batter into skillet or baking dish and place in oven. Bake 20-30 minutes or until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cut wedges and top with hot honey (recipe follows).

Daiquiri 2 oz light rum 1 oz lime juice 2 teaspoons sugar In shaker add ice, rum, lime juice, and sugar.

Shake vigorously and strain into chilled glass.

Sazerac 3 oz rye whiskey ¾ oz simple syrup dash Peychaud bitters anise spirits lemon twist Add a small amount of anise spirits to a cocktail glass. Swirl to coat the inside and discard excess. In shaker add whiskey, simple syrup, and bitters. Shake vigorously and strain into prepared cocktail glass. Garnish with lemon curl.

Hurricane

Hot Honey: In small saucepan mix honey and red pepper flakes. Heat to a boil and turn off heat. Let steep 2 hours. Return to heat until nearly simmering and very thin. Pour honey through a fine mesh strainer. Let cool and then pour honey back in original bottle. Store at room temperature in pantry.

2 oz light rum 2 oz dark rum 2 oz passion fruit juice 1 oz orange juice ½ oz lime juice 1 tablespoon simple syrup 1 tablespoon grenadine Add ice to cocktail glass, add all ingredients and stir to mix.

Mint Julep

Alabama Slammer

1 teaspoon sugar leaves from 4 sprigs mint, plus more for garnish 2 oz bourbon crushed ice Add mint and sugar to glass, muddle lightly.

Top with crushed ice and add bourbon.

Gently slap 2-3 sprigs mint and add to glass as garnish.

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½ oz vodka ½ oz Southern Comfort ½ oz amaretto ½ ox sloe gin orange juice Add ice to shaker, add all ingredients and shake vigorously. Strain into cocktail glass.

CITY TOUR ROGER OLIVER

SAVANNAH, GEORGIA EATING YOUR WAY THROUGH TOWN I have lived in beautiful Savannah, Georgia for nearly a decade and must say it is a wonderful place to live and visit. From its tree shaded streets to its historic architecture, Savannah is full of old southern charm. Savannah, founded in 1733 by James Edward Oglethorpe, has built a rich and varied history over the years. Juliette Gordon Low was born here and founded the Girl Scouts of America in 1912. Nearby Tybee Island has beaches and a historic lighthouse dating back over 200 years. Fort Pulaski was a confederate fort during the Civil War and is an interesting stop for any history buff. A must for any visitor is a ghost tour of downtown Savannah. There are many different ghost tours, my favorite being the hearse tour where you ride in the back.

Whether it is a weekend or a month, finding a new great restaurant is never a problem. The range of cuisines offered will make sure everyone can find a delightful meal to remember. For home-style cooking and southern hospitality, Paula Deen’s The Lady and Sons is arguably the most famous restaurant in town­­— serving up fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and other southern specialties in a wonderful buffet. Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room is the locals’ favorite option for southern fare.

Food is served family style; friends and newly made friends pass the gracefully cooked dishes around the table. Hours are limited, so planning ahead really will benefit any traveller. The Pirate’s House has been serving visitors since 1753, and spent much of its early years cooking grub for the blood-thirsty crews that gave it its name. The Pirate’s House menu has a great combination of southern, sea food, and standards that makes repeat visits easy.

B. Matthews, Blowin’ Smoke, and Blue Turtle Bistro are a trio of restaurants that are owned by the same folks. We’ve been visiting B. Matthews many years and they serve a great, moderately priced breakfast and lunch (including tasty sandwiches) during the day. In the evenings they take it up a notch and transform the place into a wonderful dinner spot. Blowin’ Smoke

has some of the best barbecue in town, often served with a side of live music and an extensive beer selection. Blue Turtle Bistro is a great mid-town spot for a nice dinner. The bacon-wrapped beef tenderloin medallions are delicious.

River Street is the major nightlife spot of Savannah. — ­ Mainly bars, a few candy shops, and restaurants that face the water.

Vic’s on the River is one of the more upscale restaurants and features fine food and some of the best views of the river. City Market, an open pavilion-styled space, is another popular nighttime area and is filled with more restaurants and bars. Jazzed Tapas Bar is a below-streetlevel dining spot very near City Market that serves an eclectic mix of tapas and refreshments. The weekends bring live music while dining. Vinnie Van Go Go’s Pizza in City Market bakes up some of the best pizza you’ll find. It’s a tight spot and not the fanciest of places but the food is great and they’re open late. Run in and grab a slice, if you get the chance.

700 Drayton is an upscale restaurant at the Mansion on Forsyth Hotel. It has great ambiance and the sweetest and most succulent sea bass I’ve ever had. Finally, there’s a pair of places that I cannot talk about Savannah restaurants without mentioning. Sweet Potatoes and Toucan Café are both fantastic eateries that share common ownership, but not much else. Sweet Potatoes serves up southern specialties with a slight twist. Toucan Café is my favorite restaurant and one we attend regularly. They serve an interesting tropical island and Mediterranean fusion. I have enjoyed dining there more times than I can count and look forward to all my future visits. It’s to die for!

Plan a trip down to the most beautiful city in the south—a weekend, a week, or a year. The historic district offers plenty of quaint bed and breakfasts and Forsyth Park deserves a stroll. Its grand fountain is an iconic symbol of Savannah along with the cobblestone roads, over 25 squares in the historic district, and don’t forget the riverboats.

— Roger Oliver

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COOKING CLASS DAVID GOBELI

OXTAIL AND BLACK-EYED PEAS A great-tasting, classic Southern soul food dish, oxtails are a cut of meat that most people have not tried, and are intimidated by. The cut is exactly what it sounds like—the beef cattle’s tail. The bony cut is full of gelatin, giving it a silky mouthful that is rare with beef. Long cooking over low heat tenderizes the meat to the point it falls off the bone. Low cost and great flavor makes oxtail a favorite among the more adventuresome of cooks. The gravy made from the braising liquid and black eyed peas are a natural pairing.

Braised Oxtails: 2 tablespoons vegetable oil 4 lbs oxtail 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 onion, diced ½ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon black pepper ½ teaspoon ground coriander ½ teaspoon ground fenugreek 1 cup smoked ale water Gravy: 2 tablespoons butter 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 2 cups broth from braised oxtails 2 dashes Worcestershire sauce ½ teaspoon garlic powder salt and black pepper to taste

Heat oil in a heavy-bottomed, preferably cast iron, large pot. Add oxtails and sear on all sides. Once all sides have browned, add garlic, onion, salt and pepper. Cook 5-7 minutes until onions are translucent. Add coriander and fenugreek and stir. Cook for 3 minutes, careful not to let the spices burn.

Deglaze with beer and scrape the bottom to loosen the brown bits. Add enough water to cover the oxtails by ¾ and bring to a boil.

Reduce to a simmer and cover, cooking for 3 hours.

Once the oxtails are tender, remove from pot and set aside. Strain cooking liquid and reserve 2 cups. In small pot, melt butter. Add flour and whisk for three minutes. Stir in broth and Worcestershire Sauce. Whisk to remove clumps and until thickened. Place oxtails in

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skillet and pour gravy over. Heat gently and turn oxtails to coat, about five minutes.

Black Eyed Peas: 1 tablespoon vegetable oil 2 stalks celery, diced ½ medium onion, diced 1 red pepper, diced 2 15 oz cans black eyed peas, drained ½ cup chicken or vegetable stock salt and white pepper to taste Black Eyed Peas: In pot, heat oil. Add celery, onion, and pepper. Cook 5 minutes until softened. Add peas and stock. Cook on medium heat until stock is absorbed.

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VIRGINIA’S ALLEY SANDY ROBINSON

Growing up in the border state of Kentucky, I wanted to lean to the north. I didn’t want to be country or “Southern”. The older I got, I realized that it really doesn’t matter where you are from; the only thing that really matters in life is how you treat others, and I always try to treat others like I want to be treated. Then one day, I took a quiz, titled “You Might Be Southern If …” and, bless my heart, I am Southern!

I “bless a lot of people’s hearts,” I love shoes, but given the chance I am bare foot, I MUST have a porch swing that I can nap on; my kids know that the blue pitcher in the fridge holds sweet tea. I have a bunch of relatives, first, second, and third cousins. When I was little, if my momma, daddy or Sunday School teacher said it, that’s how it was … Whether you are from the North or the South, use these recipes to enjoy a Southern breakfast. Just don’t forget the sliced Preheat oven to 450. Grease a cookie tomatoes! sheet with vegetable oil or spray with cooking spray. Place flour in a large bowl; make a well in the center. Pour buttermilk and oil in a measuring cup, and pour the liquid mixture in the flour JAMES’ BISCUITS FOR ASHLEY well. With a spoon, incorporate flour This is my husband’s biscuit recipe, into liquid mixture until it’s too thick passed down from his Grandma Pearl. to stir; coat hands with flour and finish James, like Grandma Pearl, hand pats mixing with hands. When completely his biscuits, but you can certainly roll mixed, pinch off a half-dollar size ball them out and use a biscuit cutter…our of dough, hand pat to about 2 inches daughter often calls and says, “Daddy, round by ½ inch thick. Bake 10 to 12 if I come home, will you make me minutes or until golden brown and some biscuits?” enjoy!

A VERY SOUTHERN BREAKFAST

¼ cup vegetable oil ¾ buttermilk 3 - cups of self-rising flour

CHOCOLATE GRAVY 2 4 4 2 1

cups milk tablespoons butter tablespoons flour tablespoons cocoa cup sugar

Mix sugar, cocoa and flour together in a bowl. Melt butter with milk in a saucepan. Add cocoa mixture into saucepan stirring constantly over medium heat until no lumps are visible.

Continue stirring until mixture reaches desired thickness. Serve immediately over open-faced biscuits. Makes 6-8 servings.

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CHEESE GRITS 3 cups water 1 ½ cups milk 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup stone-ground grits 1 stick butter 16 ounces sharp cheddar cheese, cut

into pieces 2 eggs breadcrumbs In a large saucepan, heat milk and water nearly to boiling; add grits, cooking and stirring until very thick. Add butter and cheese. In a small bowl, beat eggs lightly. Spoon a little hot mixture into eggs and stir. Stir egg mixture into grits mixture. Pour into large, greased casserole dish. Top with bread crumbs.

Bake at 350 for 40-45 minutes. Let stand for a few minutes before serving.

PA LES’ RED-EYE GRAVY Growing up, my mom would cook a big breakfast on Sunday morning.

When she cooked country ham, my dad always made red eye gravy. There are a lot of ways to enjoy your red eye gravy, and all of them are good! My favorite is: split open a biscuit, top with scrambled eggs, top with milk gravy, then finish off with red eye gravy.

This is not something that you would “need” to eat for breakfast every morning, but it’s a yummy treat! After you cook your country ham, remove it from the skillet, mix in 2 cups of coffee, stir well and bring to a boil. Serve any way you want!

SUMMER 2012 AMY THAYER

Doughnuts

POOR MAN’S

1 can refrigerated biscuits 50/50 mixture powdered sugar and water oil for frying

Preheat oil to 375. Remove biscuits from container. Using your thumb, puncture a hole in the center of each biscuit , gently

pulling to what resembles a donut. Place doughnut-shaped biscuits into hot oil , careful not to crowd the pan. After the top starts to firm and puff up , turn them over.

Allow both sides to turn a golden brown.

Remove cooked doughnuts from pan and set out on paper towels to blot away the excess grease.

Glaze:

1 cup powdered sugar 3 tablespoons milk

Whisk together sugar and milk. Add more milk, 1 tablespoon at a time, if needed to achieve desired consistency. Drizzle glaze over warm donuts.

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AUNT JUNE’S KITCHEN BEN ASHBY

AS SOUTHERN AS PIE IF YOU KNOW MUCH ABOUT ME YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE FOOD. It is also common knowledge that if you spent too time around me you will gain weight. I don’t mean to contribute to the American obesity problem. It is just part of my family. We being southern by a long bloodline of Ashby’s raised in the fields, kitchens, and gardens of a very old farm on Chandle Loop in Centertown, Kentucky are cooks. We appreciate the art of the potluck, the fish-fry, and the notion that ranch dressing makes anything from the garden better. Who would be responsible for my ability to cook and my appreciation for all things homemade? It would be a collection of Ashby family members, but the one who stands out the most is my Aunt June.

When she died in 2004 I was lucky enough to get her cookbooks and recipe boxes. My favorite cookbook is the one on the page. Each recipe is handwritten —which has sadly led many of them to be unreadable... as any southerner will tell you- the cooks down here are messy. In our southern issue I thought pies would be the most fitting. I, during my years spent with Aunt June would only eat chocolate pie. My childhood was filled with a destine for cobblers, casseroles, and pies- or basically any food that was composed on many different ingredients. Since those years of single ingredient foods I have fallen for many a pie. Chocolate is by far my favorite. Here I share four of our family’s favorites.

Above: Peach pie sits on a table in the summer sun.

Below: A young Ben in Aunt June’s kitchen.

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PECAN PIE

1 9-inch pie shell 1 3/4 cups pecans, coarsely chopped 2 eggs, slightly beaten 1 cup light corn syrup 1/4 cup brown sugar 1 Tbsp molasses 2 Tbsp melted butter 2 Tbsp flour 1/4 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon vanilla Directions Preheat oven to 375째F. Spread pecans along the bottom of the pie shell. Mix the remaining ingredients and pour over pecans. (No need for an electric mixer, you can mix by hand.) The pecans will rise to the surface of the pie. Bake at 375째F for 40-45 minutes until the filling has set. About 20 minutes into the cooking you may want to use a pie crust protector, or tent the edges of the pie crust with aluminum foil to prevent the pie crust edges from burning.

Remove from oven and let cool completely.

CHOCOLATE PIE 1/2 cup water 1 1/2 (1 ounce) squares unsweetened chocolate 1/4 cup butter or margarine 2/3 cup sugar 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract Filling 1/4 cup shortening 3/4 cup sugar 1 egg 1 cup all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup milk 1 (9 inch) unbaked pastry shell 2 tablespoons chopped nuts Directions Directions In a saucepan, bring water, chocolate and butter to a boil; boil for 1 minute. Remove from the heat; add sugar and vanilla. Set aside. In a mixing bowl, cream shortening and sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg; beat well. Combine flour, baking powder and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with milk. Pour into pastry shell. Carefully pour reserved chocolate mixture over filling. Sprinkle with nuts if desired. Cover edges of pastry with foil. Bake at 350 degrees F for 55-60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean.

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BUTTERSCOTCH PIE 1 cup dark brown sugar 3 tablespoons flour pinch salt 1 cup milk 2 eggs separated 2 tablespoons butter 1 8 inch pie shell (baked)

Meringue 1/4 teaspoon cream of tarter 4 tablespoon sugar Combine sugar, salt, and flour in top of double boiler. Heath milk and slowly stir into the flour and sugar mixture. Combine until mixture begins to thicken. Beat egg yolks in small bowl and stir into mixture. Put mixture into a baked pie crust. Top with meringue. Bake at 350 degrees for twelve minutes.

FRESH PEACH PIE

6-8 peaches (sliced) 1 cup sugar 1 cup water 3 tablespoons corn starch 1 stick butter 1 teaspoon almond extract Cook sugar, water, and cornstarch, stir until thick. Add butter and almond extract to mixture. Cool. Add peaches and combine until coated. Pour into prebaked pie shell.

Refrigerate.

SOUTHERN BY THE GRACE OF GRITS MARTHA PASSMAN

WHEN YOU HEAR “GRITS”, YOU IMMEDIATELY THINK OF THE SOUTH.

YES, WE LOVE GRITS. WE ARE BROUGHT UP EATING GRITS AND TAUGHT TO APPRECIATE THEIR “GRITTINESS” AND VERSATILITY. When you hear the word grits,

you immediately think of the south. Yes, southerners love grits. They are brought up eating grits and taught at an early age to appreciate their “grittiness” and versatility. Grits are corn ... plain and simple. To make grits, corn is coarsely milled and turned into a hot cereal, like Cream of Wheat or oatmeal.

A Southerner is used to seeing others screw up their faces and voice their distaste for something they don’t understand. Terry, a friend of mine, recounts this story: “Back in the 70’s shortly after we moved to Georgia, from Pennsylvania, my grandparents came for a visit. We went to Shoney’s for breakfast and when the waitress asked my grandfather if he wanted grits, he said, ‘I’ll try one.’”

A connoisseur of grits knows the ins and outs of serving and eating grits. As a first lesson, you learn that you cannot let grits set on your plate, in a bowl, or in the pot for long without ending up with what can only be called paste. A good description of the substance would be something like wallpaper paste, and rather than using a spoon to eat it, you have to use a knife and a fork, or serve it to the family dog. Once you eat your grits you have to wash out the bowl pretty quickly or you will have to chisel off the cementlike residue left behind. After eating grits, always brush Southerner has their favorite way of eating grits. Grits aren’t just for breakfast twice or keep a toothpick either. They are more widely used now than ever and grace the menus of many handy. There’s probably not progressive, high-end restaurants with ingredients like shrimp, and recipes such one grits lover out there who as roasted mushrooms, with goat cheese, and grits. They make a wonderful side hasn’t gotten them stuck in dish to any entrée. Just serve them in place of rice or potatoes. their teeth a time or two.

Of course, the South isn’t just about the grits – it’s about moon pies, YooGrits are a great base for Hoos, Coca Cola, and watermelon in the summer. It’s about having tomato many recipes. The traditional sandwiches on white bread, with lots of mayonnaise, and sweet iced tea, with and most widely served vermint, out in the backyard. It’s about fried chicken, cooked greens, and mashed sion would be buttered grits. potatoes with gravy.

With just the right amount of It’s about keeping old-fashioned ways alive and sharing a smile and givsalt and pepper, of course. ing friends or strangers the finger when you pass them on the road. Not THAT The possibilities are endless. finger. It’s a simple gesture. Just raise your index finger from the steering wheel Although, there are those of and give them a nod. us who like them with just Being a Southerner is about friends helping friends and knowing your neighbutter, the addition of any bors. It’s about cooking when someone passes, marries, or has a baby. It’s flavor of cheese takes grits about commiserating with your friends and understanding when someone says, to the next level. Cheese “Oh Bless Your Heart,” that they understand and nothing else needs to be said. grits with bacon — now It’s about droppin’ your “g’s” when you are fixin’ dinner, runnin’ to the store, or THAT is heaven in a bowl. prayin’ your prayers. Yes, we have our own way of talkin’ and we like to drag out Grits can be cooked our words. slowly, quickly, or instantly, Being Southern is about opening doors for others and sharing a hug when but they’re always meant to you see a friend, whether at church, school, or the grocery store. It’s about sharbe salty rather than sweet. ing a smile with a stranger and then striking up a conversation with them, and Some Southerners would knowing each other’s life story by the time you check out at Walmart. It’s about certainly turn up their noses pickup trucks and rolling hills, farms and barns, and evenings on the front porch if you served them anything swing. but slow cooked grits. Every The South has many endearing qualities, characteristics and quirks. That’s what makes us who we are, as Southerners. I think everyone has a little bit of “being Southern” in them. So, if you are ever in a restaurant and you hear someone order grits, you’ll know they are either Southern, a converted Southerner, or someone has dared them.

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S SUMMERS SPENT GROWING UP ON A FARM WERE SPECIAL. WELL, MAYBE, ENDURABLE IS A BETTER WORD TO DESCRIBE THEM. Summers usually meant long days of hard work which began the day school was out and ended the day school began. By the time school ended, usually around the end of May, all the main crops had been planted; cotton, corn and peanuts. This meant that cotton had to be chopped (thinned out) and then hoed to remove all the aggravating weeds. Corn was ready for us to side-dress. This was done by grabbing a handful of ammonia nitrate, walking up and down the rows of corn and spreading it around the roots. It was hot work with the ammonia chaffing and burning your hands and arms.

Peanuts had to be hoed to remove all the weeds and crabgrass. Later on, as the peanuts grew, we had to pull the large weeds from them that had grown as the vines matured.

Guess who the workers were that had these tasks? I suppose you could have called us “guest workers”. We “guessed” if we wanted to eat, we had to work.

Our normal team of workers consisted of Uncle Charlie’s children: Freddy, Zona and Brenda. He had another daughter, Shelia, who came along much later, but she was a princess, like my younger sister, Sharon, and they did not have to work in the fields like us “commoners”. The other half of the team came from the children in my family: Jean, Jalane, JoAnne and me. Remember you couldn’t count “Princess Sharon”. Jean, who was the oldest child, was bright enough

WOODHAM ROAD SUMMERS JOHNNY KELLY

to know there was no future in doing slave labor on the farm so went off to college. A few short years later, my sister Jalane got married, realizing that even marriage was better than working in a “chain gang”. The size of the team fluctuated, depending on how many of our “city-cousins” came to enjoy the wonderful country air that abounded in the hot fields.

Chopping cotton, side-dressing corn, and weeding peanuts is like a day at the French Riviera compared to picking cucumbers. Cucumber pickles, which we enjoyed so much, go through a long process before they get into that jar. Our team of workers had step one in that process: we picked them off the vine. In case you don’t know by now, cucumber vines do not grow up a tree or on a trellis. They grow on the ground — ­ way low on the ground. Normally, when picking cucumbers, your head is always below the bottom of your feet and God did not design your body to perform in that position.

After working about an hour in that position you got dizzy, cranky and just plain mean. In addition to the unnatural body positioning, the second obstacle to overcome was the hordes of bees that lived in condos in the cucumber blooms. Bees are good and make sweet honey but they don’t like to be stepped on nor squeezed by hand. Their normal reaction to either one of these is to insert a thing into your appendage called a stinger. This usually causes the “stingee” great pain and to emit a loud scream. If one of your parents, or your Sunday school teacher were around, you just screamed really loudly and blessed the bee that had just stung you. Normally they

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were not present so we had other words to express our displeasure over the assault. Most were not heard too often in church. One of my city cousins, Johnny Marvin, reacted, when stung, by trying to destroy the entire bee condo and all those that adjoined it. It was not a pretty sight, especially for a fragile young boy like me.

We spent the remainder of the summer picking tomatoes, peas, butterbeans, cutting okra, picking and shucking fresh corn and other wonderful, mind-expanding chores. Then the “crown jewel” of the summer chores usually arrived around the first of August: picking cotton. I am sure, without any doubt, why the War Between the States was fought. It wasn’t slavery. It was picking cotton. Picking cotton all day long will give almost anyone the desire to kill. The only reason I looked forward to school beginning was getting a reprieve from picking cotton.

Summers were not all bad as we had a lot of good times between the many chores. We children always found time to have fun. We had plenty of fresh watermelons to eat, plenty of milk, eggs and fresh peaches to make homemade ice cream, plenty of cousins and neighbors to play Rook with and plenty of stories to share. We could entertain ourselves using our imaginations to dream of faraway places, meeting, or even being, “moviestars” and pretending our homes were air-conditioned.

Each year, when school reconvened, the other kids at school would tell where and how they had spent their summer vacation. I did not enter into that conversation.

TABLESCAPE SIBYLLE ROESSLER

Sibylle Roessler is a freelance designer and blogger. Living dangerously close to El Rastro, the biggest flea ­market in Europe, she happily combines work with play and is a flea-market addict.

In less than a year the popularity of her blog ‘Funkytime’ grew quickly, acknowledged by Apartment Therapy & Design Sponge for her “funky style.”

The blog was also recently featured in Artful Blogging and Women’s Day. BRIGITTE, Germany’s largest women’s magazine declared Funkytime to be one of the 12 most creative blogs on the internet.

Sibylle’s work will also be featured in two books, “The Design Cookbook: Recipes for a Stylish Home”

by Kelly Edwards and “Mod Podge Rocks! Decoupage your World” by Amy Anderson.

She is also publishing Funkytime magazine, which is a seasonal home and lifestyle magazine featuring articles on food, design & DIY projects. {fun.kyti.me}

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SHARE SUMMER 2012

Fresh Eggs, Two-in-One Biscuits, Well Water, FRIED CHICKEN IS ONE OF THE SIGNATURE FOODS OF THE SOUTH. I DON’T LIKE FRIED CHICKEN SO I’M OFTEN TOLD I’M NOT SOUTHERN. I can eat it but I will eat plenty of everything else on the table before resorting to eating fried chicken. Let me explain with a little background information first.

During my formative years I often had the privilege of spending a great deal of time with one of my maternal grandmother’s sisters. I always knew she would find time to bake a batch of cookies but I also knew those cookies needed eggs. If I were lucky enough for an overnight stay, breakfast would required fresh eggs to accompany her famous (at least I thought they were) Two-in-One biscuits. One of my “jobs” was to follow the path from the back door, down through the yard, between the coal house and wash house to the gate of the chicken coop. The small structure seemed like a miniature salt box styled house with its tall front and slopping roof. Inside were rows of “bunk beds” for the chickens. Carefully, I entered the building that housed her laying hens. With a

basket in hand I set about gathering eggs. Most of the time I found a nest of eggs unattended so the task posed no threat.

Occasionally I met up with the setting hen and the trouble began. I tried sweet-talking the old gal and gently lifting her from her nest. I soon found out that setting hens are much like sleeping dogs. Leave them alone. On more than one trip to the henhouse I returned to Aunt Pearl’s back door in tears because the old hen had flogged me. I did, however, have my basket of eggs for her. Looking back I realize she kept a supply of eggs on hand but wanted me and my siblings to have the responsibility of contributing to the cookies, breakfast, or whatever else might require fresh eggs.

Breakfast, as it cooks, is the world’s greatest alarm clock.

The aroma of bacon or sausage sizzling in a big iron skillet and freshly made biscuits baking in the oven awakens me with a big smile every time. Aunt Pearl’s biscuits were extraordinary! She rolled out the dough onto her counter top then used a very small biscuit cutter to cut the small biscuits and arrange them on a baking sheet. She gathered FOLK | 86 | 2012

the dough back into a ball, rolled it out once again and set about cutting out the second round.

She carefully placed a second biscuit on top of the first (hence the name Two-In-One biscuits) then popped them into the oven.

Not since those long ago days in her farm kitchen have I encountered such awesome biscuits.

A special treat at Aunt Pearl’s stood just outside her sunroom.

The well that supplied water for drinking and cooking intrigued me as a little girl. Uncle Rol would carefully lower the bucket into the well and slowly draw it back up with the coldest water I could imagine. A cup usually hung on a nail of the well covering just waiting to be dipped into the seemingly icecold water. Nothing quenched a young girl’s thirst better than a drink from the freshly drawn bucket of water. As I grew stronger I eventually earned the job of drawing water from the well. I never could get a full bucket like Uncle Rol did but it didn’t matter. I’d wrestle the bucket over the side of the well, unlatch the chain from the bail, then carry the water into the kitchen where Aunt Pearl dumped it into the larger bucket sitting on the metal

and Chicken Feathers sink cabinet. She kept a dipper hanging beside the bucket.

You never considered getting a glass from the cabinet … just scoop up a dipper full of water, drink and enjoy. She also kept the water there to have ready for cooking.

Cooking was one of Aunt Pearl’s many talents. Dinner, to me, is the noonday meal. Uncle Rol worked the farm all morning and came in around noon for a big meal to fuel the rest of the day’s work. Oft times he brought a field hand or two with him. It never bothered Aunt Pearl when an unexpected guest came to her table. There was always plenty for everyone to eat. No one went away hungry. As you might expect, fried chicken often graced her dinner table. Here is where the one negative part of my visits with Aunt Pearl comes into play.

Being a “Daddy’s Girl” meant I was accustomed to fishing, hunting, blood and guts. The gory stuff posed no ill threat to my constitution. When Aunt Pearl wanted fried chicken for dinner she calmly walked the path to the chicken house, selected a good sized chicken, snatched it

from the flock, wrung its neck and then chopped off its head.

As bad as that scene might seem, it was just a way of life that we all accepted. The bad part for me came when she doused the headless bird with boiling water to allow the feathers to be easily plucked. Our world has many unsavory aromas but nothing quite equals the smell of hot, wet, chicken feathers. To this day, when I smell chicken frying, baking, boiling or grilling, I still smell those nasty, wet chicken feathers. Perhaps that odor remains in my mind more than in reality but it does explain why I really don’t care for fried chicken. I also knew that at Aunt Pearl’s table I would find a plethora of vegetables and another round of Two-in-One biscuits to fill my tummy.

Yes, I am Kentucky born and raised but, Colonel Sanders, I apologize for not riding your band wagon. Give me eggs, bacon, Two-in-One biscuits, let me wash it down with a dipper of ice cold water from the well and life is good.

Time marches on and change is inevitable. Both Aunt Pearl and FOLK | 87 | 2012

Uncle Rol are long gone.

Their house has been demolished and the farm mined. Progress is what it is but I can still drive down the road, visualize where the house, barns, garden, chicken house and well stood.

In my mind, I relive the glory days of gathering fresh eggs, drawing water from the well, slathering butter on Two-in-One biscuits and even the smell of hot water and chicken feathers. I loved my Aunt Pearl and Uncle Rol and will forever thank them for the experiences they gave to me and the wonderful memories they helped create.

— LINDA REID

THE REMEMBRANCER

HEATH STILTNER

ONE OF THE MOST VIVID MEMORIES I HAVE OF MY CHILDHOOD IS ROOTED IN THE SOIL BETWEEN MY HOME AND MY NANA’S. I was lucky enough to grow up around my family, in very close proximity to everyone on my mother’s side and not far from my father’s. From my house I could see everything in my “holler”; from the head, the farthest point at the end, to the mouth, where my short gravel road met the larger gravel road to Dorton, where I went to school.

Those days were the simplest of my life ... before US23 made extinct those well traveled gravel roads of my youth. I am reminded of those days every time I drive down a gravel road. I can remember chasing cars down the paths of my Papaw’s garden, and not caring that the low greens of the vegetable patches were smacking my legs viciously. The smells of those gardens are always around me. I can remember the musk of tomato plants and the sweet smell of berries ripening on the vines. It was simple childhood bliss growing up in that garden.

The strong summer sun beamed down on the field day in and day out and the ripening vegetables and fruits made me more aware of my upcoming birthday. The most exciting part of this garden lay in the row nearest to my porch. Stretching from the porch to the gravel road lay a long row of sweet, red berries that fueled my youthful energy during those warm days of summer. The strawberries that grew there were not like the overgrown grocery variety. They were a special entity that I have never found anywhere else. The small rubies clung to their vines delicately and all of the neighborhood kids were allowed to pick what they could carry.

The sweet taste of those berries was unlike any other.

The rich flavor and smooth, soft flesh melted in your mouth, dripping down your face leaving crimson evidence that you were in Papaw’s strawberries again.

Those strawberries were an important part of my childhood. Every year I got older, a different birthday theme was picked, and I had a different grade and teacher to look forward to in the fall. The only thing that remained the same each year was the aroma and taste of those berries. The garden has disappeared in the waning years of my youth, but the sight and memory are revived each time I see the space between my house and my Nana’s.

— Heath Stiltner FOLK | 88 | 2012

FOLKLORE KIM STRYKER

LOCAL LEGEND TRIPPING AT THE SAN ANTONIO GHOST TRACKS HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THE MYSTERIOUS “GRAVITY HILL”? Folks say there is a country road that crosses some train tracks on the outskirts of San Antonio. People drive out there because it’s supposed to be a “gravity hill” —the ­­ road looks like its going uphill, but when you put your car in neutral, right before the train tracks, you feel a nudge and your car starts to roll UPHILL. High school kids like to go there at night, put their headlights on and take turns testing it.

Ask around and you’ll find that people have different explanations for this phenomenon. Some take the scientific approach, explaining that the slope of the road is actually going downhill, but due to an optical illusion it appears to be going up. Others posit that the car is being pulled by a magnetic field buried deep in the earth. But for those who call this place the “ghost tracks” the only explanation is not of this world.

Legend says that forty years back, a school bus came down the road delivering kids home from school. Back then, rural roads did not have train crossings; you had to look both ways.

Some kids were rough-housing in the back of the bus. The bus driver looked in his mirror to see what all the commotion was. Distracted, he drove right into the path of an oncoming train.

Somehow the bus driver survived, but all the kids on the bus were killed.

Well, it seems that the children felt badly about causing that accident, so today, if you stall your car on those railroad tracks, the ghosts of the

children will push your car uphill to safety.

“Good story!” you’re thinking. “But I’m sure it’s just an optical illusion.”

That’s why I thought too...until I saw the little handprints in the dust on the back of the car.

Folklorists study local legends for many reasons, but not to decide whether they are true or not. What’s more interesting to us is why these stories are told. What purpose do they serve in the community? In the case of the ghost tracks, we can interpret this legend as a cautionary tale: to drive more carefully, to look out for trains, or even to cherish your children because you never know what might happen. But this story also reveals something about what people believe: are ghosts real? Is there an afterlife?

Are there forces in nature which we don’t understand? For the people who seek out this “legend trip” destination, there is a curiosity about the world and a willingness to wrestle with the ambiguous.

Want to visit a “gravity hill” and see for yourself? The good news is that these local legends can be found within 50 miles of most anywhere in America.

There are various websites listing locations with directions and testimonials from people who have visited firsthand. The most convenient locator I’ve found is an iPhone app called Roadside America.com. For $1.99 you can down-

Sources: Bennett, Gillian. “Contemporary Legend: An Insider’s View.” Folklore 102.2 (1991): 187–191.

Bird, S. Elizabeth. “Playing with Fear: Interpreting the Adolescent Legend Trip.” Western Folklore 53.3 (1994): 191–209.

Dégh, Linda, and Andrew Vázsonyi. “Does the Word ‘Dog’ Bite? Ostensive Action: A Means of Legend-Telling.” Journal of Folklore Research 20.1 (1983): 5–34.

load a searchable listing of wacky roadside attractions in your region of the country, including any nearby gravity hills. If you are searching via Google, you may also want to try search terms such as “mystery spot”, “spook hill”, and “magnetic hill”.

The point of a legend trip is not to prove any explanation right or wrong, but just to participate in something that is ambiguous, mysterious, and outside of your everyday experience and might just give you goosebumps.

Author’s note: Carl Lindhal is the folklorist who wrote extensively about the Hispanic community of San Antonio and its interactions with these “ghost tracks” in his influential work, “Ostensive Healing: Pilgrimage to the San Antonio Ghost Tracks” published in the Journal of American Folklore, 2005.

For more about contemporary legends, see works by Jan Harold Brunvard, Linda Degh, Gillian Bennett, S. Elizabeth Bird, and Bill Ellis.

Kim Stryker is a folklorist living in Virginia in a 1930’s farmhouse (that she wishes was haunted) with her husband, two cats, a very big dog and a swarm of honeybees. She works as a liaison between family farmers and new immigrants in the region to foster exchange and develop new markets.

She also works on a contract basis with the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and is president of the Folklore Roundtable at George Mason University.

Dorson, Richard M. “Defining the American Folk Legend.” Béaloideas 39/41 (1971): 112–126.

Ellis, Bill. “Death by Folklore: Ostension, Contemporary Legend, and Murder.” Western Folklore 48.3 (1989): 201–220.

Lindahl, Carl. “Ostensive Healing: Pilgrimage to the San Antonio Ghost Tracks.” The Journal of American Folklore 118.468 (2005): 164–185.

Mullen, Patrick B. “Modern Legend and Rumor Theory.” Journal of the Folklore Institute 9.2/3 (1972): 95–109.

FOLK | 89 | 2012

PONDERINGS SHANNON ASHBY

W When the Old Beda Road was replaced by highway 231 North and South, a valley had to be filled in order for level construction on the new road to continue. The path of highway 231 was originally called the Buffalo Trail or Trace. Native Americans followed buffalo across the shallows of the Ohio River into Kentucky territory where hundreds of buffalo left the river, about where Frederica Street in Owensboro is today, and headed south along the same corridor year after year. The state highway department contacted my grandfather, Orville Tichenor, the landowner. They offered to build a large pond in exchange for the dirt that was needed to fill the deep gully. Sources of water at that time were scarce — no city water … just wells, cisterns and a few springs from which people and animals could drink. Water on the west end of the farm would allow cattle to graze if this small pasture and corn patch could be fenced. Fencing was too expensive, at the time, for my grandparents, but it eventually happened.

The pond was an exciting place for the Beda Community. Couples and families drove in on the large pond bank and emptied their cars for a day of swimming, picnicking and fishing. Often, farm trucks, fancy color cars and other 1940’s vehicles lined the banks. At night it was a favorite place for lovers, or ornery people, to “park” or drink liquor and beer. I never visited the pond at night, but my Papaw would walk to the top of the hill and see if he recognized any of the cars parked there. Oftentimes he would whisper their names to my grandmother.

Beda Cumberland Presbyterian

PONDerings

Church used the pond to baptize church goers and wash away their sins into Christianity. It helped a lot because no cattle used the pond at that time and stirring the water helped keep the pond fresh as opposed to stagnant. Church members would walk or drive from the small white wooden church to the pond and the preacher would wade into the water up to his waist. He would then beckon those on the bank, waiting to be baptized, to wade to him. He’d place one arm around the new Christian and raise the other hand high toward heaven, his shirt sleeves dripping with pond water, and pray loud enough for all the gathering to hear. The new convert grabbed hold of his arm as he lowered them backward under the pond water and lifted them back to their feet. It was an inspirational moment that gave you a pacified feeling as church members sang all four stanzas of “Just as I Am, or “I Surrender All”… acapella, in four part harmony.

I remember our closest friends and family, Jerry and Wanda Allen, being baptized in that pond. The pond banks were lined with people around the shallow end. It was a place of notoriety for there were no other farm ponds as close to the highway and church as ours. I think at least one bird dog was converted there as well. Often times the family farm dog followed his master into the water only to be affectionately dunked by the minister. And so it was — the pond on our farm became a significant part of Beda’s social and spiritual life.

After the newness of the pond wore off and the church started sprinkling as a form of baptizing new

FOLK | 90 | 2012

members rather than immersing them, a new era began. The pond was one of my thinking spots. Mom and I lived with my grandparents for a time and my grandmother (bless her heart) could send me into the “squimmin’ mimmies” in a short period of time. Papaw, who was calm and never laid a hand on me, was totally opposite. When Mamaw got in one of her moods to convince me of my guilt, total unworthiness and to assure me that I was bound for hell, I’d slip out of the house with my Australian shepherd in tow, go around the bend, over the hill and down through the late summer corn and sage brush to the pond bank and pour out my heart to the tiny ripples created by the warm weather breeze. At that time, I was a lonely, only child, with no one to talk to; furthermore, there wasn’t anyone to talk to my Mamaw either. I think most folks were about half scared of her. I’d stretch out on the bank of the pond and listen to the warm breeze, or a slow moving car that occasionally passed. I’d stay just long enough to keep from worrying Papaw.

Twenty years later we fenced in the property and my parents built a small barn to house a flock of as many sheep as we could afford.

“Pop O” found twelve ewes from Wyoming – a different breed with white faces. He paid over twenty dollars apiece for them. They grazed the fence line and kept it picked clean. They also kept the pond bank cleared and it could still be easily seen from the highway.

We’d always had sheep on the big farm, but not near the pond by us.

Sheep are a different kind of farm animal. They attach to their human

PONDERINGS SHANNON ASHBY

family like pets. They are sensitive and can be scared to death if you aren’t careful.

Dogs posed a big problem to sheep.

If they ever got into a herd and started running them, most ewes would fall on the ground from exhaustion. If you didn’t get them up as soon as it happened, I guess they’d lie there and die with lambs standing by their side. We had one horrible experience with Jerry Allen’s bird dog, Queen. Queenie got off the chain by her dog house and ended up in our sheep. It was mid-winter and the pond had iced over, but not too thickly. The lambs hadn’t started coming yet and the herd hadn’t been sheared.

On this cold, snowy, day, Queen scared the sheep and I imagine she circled them. The whole lot ended up on the pond ice, scared, with a dog constantly barking and barking. The ice broke through and we lost every one of them. The pond was too far away from the farm house for anyone to hear Queenie barking. It was devastating to find all the sheep, their wool and lambs gone. In a brief discovery, the sheep could be tracked to the pond, their wool had caught on low branches, briars and underbrush while they tried to get away, but they couldn’t save themselves and we weren’t home to help them.

Later that evening, Jerry Allen came to see Pop O. He held his hat in his hand as he walked into our tiny kitchen. He was a dark-eyed, handsome man and a cousin of my mother. He’d come home from work and found Queenie off her chain and with some evidence that she’d been into something. Wool was tightly pulled about her collar,

blood on her face and chest, and she was wet. He told us he’d heard about our sheep falling through the ice and thought Queenie was at fault. He didn’t have to come to us or admit to his dog killing our sheep, but being the man he was, he did. He had a home-owners’ insurance policy with Farm Bureau so we were partially compensated with a check for $200.00 Often, when I look into the vivid green hue of the pond, I think about all the community excitement and the sheep that were there, but that’s been nearly 60 years ago. I’ve ice skated there, all alone, enjoying the quiet…away from Mamaw. I could escape into any world and be anyone I wanted. It was a healthy escape that took me to places so far away that it would take me hours to get where I was going and hours to bring me back again. I’ve canoed and paddle-boated on that pond. It served as a background for a beautiful prom party for one of my sons.

We gathered dozens of home-made lanterns filled with sand and lit candles. They cradled the pond’s shore line and gave off a magical glow in the water and on the pond bank. It cast flickering shadows in the woods as if fairies magically created it all.

We don’t allow many people to fish or swim in the pond anymore. Fishing and enjoyment are just for our children, grandchildren and other family members. I even turn people away when they ask. I’ve been known to walk to the pond and tell people to leave for there are some people who don’t ask permission. I guess that’s selfish, but times have changed and so have people.

The pond is fairly well hidden and

grown up more now. Her banks are surrounded by birch, cedar, and sycamore. In the spring she becomes forty shades of green and reflects her surroundings like a huge vanity mirror. Buck bushes provide a home to red winged black birds in the summer. This time of the year, I can hear the spring peepers and see a few tadpoles that will become bull frogs. A dead snag of a tree in the water permits turtles to sun … big ones and little ones all bunched together basking in the warmth of the day. The blue gills begin their dance soon. Occasionally there will be turkey or deer tracks around the shallow side. I have one special place, between two pine trees, where I buried Abigal, my favorite cat. This pond has served her purpose well. Papaw deeded her to me when I was twenty-something, to help teach me responsibility and to appreciate her history. We care for her now, no sheep, no traffic, no diving board …just a haven for her wildlife.

Now the pond gives off the sound of the filament being cast from an adventurous family member’s reel and the occasional sound of a frisky bass breaking top water on warm summer nights. It’s time for her to rest now and let us enjoy her beauty. I have to respect her and keep her safe in the winter of her years.

I enjoy seeing her every morning as I look out the front windows of our country home. She may look a little differently each day, but I can smile at her and know that we share the same secrets and the passage of time. Those things never change on Shannon’s Acres.

THE LITTLE THINGS LIZA TURNER

“DARING FROM WITHIN” AND A FEW SUCKERS IN MY POCKET IN 2006, PRESERVATION MAGAZINE PUBLISHED AN ARTICLE WRITTEN BY ONE OF MY FAVORITE AUTHORS, ABOUT ONE OF THE SOUTH’S GREATEST WRITERS. In “Daring from Within: Why Eudora Welty Stayed Put,” Ann Patchett convincingly gives life to the words that close Welty’s classic memoir, One Writer’s Beginnings.

“A sheltered life can be a daring life as well” seems less conceptual, poster-worthy quote and more tangible case study in Patchett’s description of the seemingly mundane, yet completely lovely life Welty led in Jackson, Mississippi (the town where the Pulitzer Prize-winning author was born).

Written in a pseudo-obituary style (with an almost vicarious sense of memoir), Patchett traces Welty’s intellectual and career path from Mississippi to Wisconsin to New York City to Europe, and finally, back to Jackson.

In so doing, she suggests that the renowned Southern novelist/photographer/poet, a

woman who seemed to keenly understand “place” with a depth few are lucky enough to ever achieve, lived a life of complete engagement in both the extraordinary and the simple, a life neither lonely nor uneventful, a life “full of friends dropping by for conversation, the exchange of books, and the occasional glass of bourbon.”

In my humble opinion, we could all do a lot worse than conversation, our favorite authors, and the occasional mint julep.

And, it is these types of signifiers that now seem to structure my family —, animal-, and farm-filled days. I am a rural, southern Kentucky native who moved back to my hometown of roughly 2000 people almost three years ago; — a move inspired both by illness and unsettledness. I came, ultimately, to spend time with my father. I’ve stayed, however, for reasons more intrinsic.

I appreciate the people, the landscapes, and the customs in a way now that I could never have done ten years ago. Small town quirks seem more endearing, less provincial. I find “comfortable” easier to come by. I love reading the local newspaper and finding myself excited, not about an upcoming concert or off-Broadway play, but about the annual Homemakers’ International Dinner. I enjoy the ribbing of library patrons who know me well enough to unabashedly critique my tattoos, my Saturday morning “I’m-runninglate” cabbie hat, and my Obama bumper sticker, but who also say things like “Boy, the farm sure did look pretty this morning” or who bring me bottles of wine from east coast vineyards they visit while on trucking assignments. I like that people wave when I meet them on Highway 90, a road that I could likely drive with my eyes shut for miles at a time, regardless if in my fuel-efficient, dog-hauling hatchback or my Dad’s pick-up truck that has nei-

ther air-conditioning nor left taillight.

Now, does this mean that my life isn’t frustrating at times? Of course not. My hometown isn’t immune to the small town stereotypes that inspire the trite “barefoot and pregnant” assumptions. People are in each other’s business. There is not an abundance of job opportunities. There is no thriving entertainment or dining or cultural arts scene. Obviously, this situation isn’t ideal. I miss the luxuries and excitement and intellectual stimulation larger cities have to offer. I occasionally miss the anonymity, and thus, regenerative potential, that cities afford. I miss being around tons of like-minded, 30 year olds who want to spend evenings drinking coffee at local cafés and running into people, different from me in every demographic category, who are creating, building, writing, or thinking things I would have never even considered.

What I am discovering, however, is that there are characters here that are just as interesting as any “like-minded 30 year old” I might otherwise stumble upon in some hipster, but cozy, used bookstore; for intrigue and intelligence and creativity aren’t limited to arbitrary geographical divides.

And, recognizing this is one reason I have stayed. I am not “losing out” by living in a small town. I understand that the sacrifices I would have to make in order to have those city-life opportunities are much greater than those I make by settling, and truly “settling,” here. And, better yet, I know there is “daring” even in my “sheltered” life. I get it, Eudora Welty.

Thus, in honor of a great Southern literary hero, an eloquent Southern transplant (Patchett moved to Nashville when she was young and remains there; she recently cofounded the independently-owned bookstore, Parnassus Books), and the “dazzling intensity” which Patchett ascribes to both Welty herself, and to characters, simultaneously familiar and fictitious, I offer my own obituary. May one day people read something similar and think, “What a lovely life.”

Liza Turner, who died at age 102 (and with keen sensibilities and stellar physical condition intact …), was born in south central Kentucky, the place where she devoted the last seventy years of her life.

Sure, she went away for a while, traveling

FOLK | 92 | 2012

first to Danville, the small college town where she met the infamous Caroline Kraft (the treasured friend who will now inherit their jointly-owned Maine beach house).

She spent ten years teaching and attending graduate school in Somerset, Richmond, Danville, and Lexington. She visited Europe and traveled here in the U.S. as often as her work schedule and bank account would allow, stalking the Avett Brothers, embracing the sights and smells of locallyowned, eclectic diners, and writing for the critically-acclaimed magazine, FOLK. But, after priorities were reevaluated and her gallivanting inevitably lost its luster, she returned home. It was there, in the quirky, yet tastefully minimalist, log cabin built on her parents’ farm, that Turner’s most fulfilling, most authentic life began.

If you’ve ever been bored enough to read her dissertation (which she finished at age 86), the occasional random post on her blog, Pillow Book, or any of the FOLK essays, it becomes clear that she, in classic Eudora Welty fashion, believed that fodder for the most interesting and intriguing and inspiring of characters could be found right outside her door. There was the dark-haired postmaster who smiled, quietly said, “Have a blessed day,” and continued vacuuming the rug resting below the “Welcome Friends” plaque as Liza checked her mail in the tiny community post office; the singing Dollar Store employee who inexplicably convinced her that she did, in fact, need the vegetable-embroidered potholders he was stocking; the neighbor who still checked on her every other day, bringing both watermelon and election analysis, even after her dog, Willie, put a hole in the knee of his pants; the renowned artist (and luckily for her, incredibly talented friend), Bill Guffey who let her tag along on painting excursions and welcomed her to his downtown studio, never “fussing” if she talked too much or painted for two hours only to take a paper towel and wipe it all off; her niece, Isabella, whose love of those four dumdum suckers unfailingly hidden in “Aunt Li-Li”’s coat pocket was surpassed only by her appreciation of Elton John and her contributions to farm chores – woven together with Berryian sensibilities and Austenian sarcasm.

There was never literary hoopla nor some of the stereotypical excitements of “city life”, but, there was laughter. There were gar-

dens. There were themed Sunday brunches at local bed-and-breakfasts and whimsical wine tastings in her own dining room.

There were pets and front porches and farmers markets. There was conversation, and books, and the occasional glass of Woodford Reserve. There was a writer who valued “place,” a hometown girl who saw the “dazzling intensity,” a woman who loved her life.

If you get a chance, I encourage you to check out 1) Ann Patchett’s article in Preservation (the format of which was modeled for this “obituary”) as well as Parnassus Bookstore; 2) Bill Guffey’s incredible work and ongoing projects: billguffey.blogspot.com; 3) More photos from Leigh Morgan photography: leighmorganphotography. blogspot.com

FOLK | 93 | 2012

MANfarmer ANDREW KOHN

LAND AS A COMMUNITY “I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU, BUT I HAVEN’T THOUGHT MUCH ABOUT SOIL IN MY LIFE.” This is how I was going to begin a long, and probably quite eloquent essay about the hopelessness of mud, the pains of clay, and the celebration of organic matter — ­ “this land is your land” kind of stuff, with Katherine Lee Bates peering out at those now famous “amber waves of grain.” It all seems so infinite ... a continent that has gone from splendid wilderness to tamed acreage in only 300 years. Yet, it’s also quite finite for many of us toiling in our backyards, experimenting with Big Boys and Brandywines.

Too often, large farms, burdened with ever-increasing property taxes and the inflating costs of higher education, are forced to grow the soybeans and corn that feed our cattle and deep fry our chickens. The fields that nurtured a growing nation have been leached of their bountiful nutrients to fatten up livestock immediately before their slaughter. We need to feed people, and I get it. I like to eat, but we must also be careful. Our land remains long after we do, and the harm we cause in one lifetime may last for generations. “We abuse land because we see it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.” (Aldo Leopold) Soak in this idea — “land as a community.” I’ll give you a minute. It’s an amazing concept. We live with the land everyday, and interact with it more than our neighbors. It comes in the house with us every night on our shoes. It gives our dogs something to dig in outside and then bring inside. Our land fuels the tulips and daffodils that emerge in spring, the season’s first warning shots against Jack Frost’s broadside. Whether we decide to pile used cars on it, or are forced to mow it once a week, our relationship to land is undeniable. It’s a part of us.

If your plants aren’t healthy, or your garden is failing, something may be wrong in your community. If your dog were sick, you’d take him to the vet. You’d bring chicken soup to an elderly neighbor. So, if your soil is missing some nutrients, it may need a little help — and it’s super easy to get.

Here’s what you can do: 1) Choose how big an area you would like to diagnose, and take about five to 10 random soil samples with a spade, digging four or five inches into the dirt.

2) Get a bucket and combine all your samples. Let the bucket sit until all the dirt is dry.

3) Contact your local county Soil and Water Conservation District and they’ll tell you where to send the soil. It will cost about $15.

FOLK | 94 | 2012

MANfarmer ANDREW KOHN

4) In two weeks, you’ll receive the diagnostic results of your soil, with recommendations about how to remedy your problems, giving you nutrient names and amounts to apply to your garden.

Farmers, it turns out, have been doing this for years. The rest of us, those weekend gardeners and toilers of the earth, have knelt dumb-founded in the grass, staring at a weak stem or spotted leaf, wondering where we had gone wrong never thinking it was our soil that may be letting us down.

The Wampanoag knew this and planted herring with their corn. That herring would not only fuel the corn, but would help reach an effective balance in nitrogen levels when they planted their beans. This information would, in time, be passed on to those founding settlers of Plymouth Plantation.

Over the centuries, we have removed ourselves from small production sustainability, fortified by exploiting nature to successfully regenerate itself, to abusing organic and inorganic compounds that, while keeping the crops in balance, have devastated our waters, pushed species to the edge of extinction, and effectively severed our connection to the land.

I don’t mean to sound apocalyptic. Any walk through your neighborhood farmer’s market will prove there are amazing things going on in your area, but sadly, not in every area. If we are going to rest easy at night, dreaming of those Babydoll Sheep leaping over their custom-built Amish fences, we must think about access to quality, wholesome groceries for all Americans. Community Sustainable Agriculture (CSA) is an effective way for consumers to purchase produce from local farmers, in the form of a box of vegetables delivered each week to your home. While many cannot directly till

their soil, there are amazing programs across this great nation that can help them share in the harvest’s bounty.

I remain hopeful, as we rediscover our relationship to that which sustains us, land will once again be a welcomed, and valued, member in our community. I’ve always thought about how to make my gardens do for me what I wanted – not thinking about what I needed to give back in return.

Now, I know better; and when you know better, you can do better. That’s some inspirational Oprah-speak, but when you’re knee-deep in clay and grubs in 90-degree heat, inspiration may be all that keeps you going!

I’m now prepared to amend my opening statement; I have, indeed, spent some time thinking about soil. Home, which many a sampler tells us is where our heart is, doesn’t only include four walls and the roof, but the ground on which it exists. Those worms and butterflies are members of our family, giving as much to our community as the mailman.

An inch of topsoil may take 300 years to create. Even in our fast-paced world, Mother Nature is taking her time. Think about this fact the next time you dig. In pristine areas, what you’re moving may have been there before those men and women of Roanoke mysteriously disappeared, before modern horses ever set hoof on this continent, even before we ever thought about America, the beautiful!

*Andrew owns and operates Orchard House Bed and Breakfast in Granville, Ohio, where he lives with his partner and numerous farm animals. You can follow his everyday farm adventures at facebook. com/goorchardhouse.com.

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SHORT STORY GINA YOUNG

a summer place

“Everyone get in the car! It’s time to go!”

It was the summer of ‘56, and the time had finally come for the family’s annual vacation to Georgia. Every summer for two weeks, Clarence and Betty Nelson piled their children, Bobby and Mildred, in the family’s black ’49 Chevy to take a trip south. For the past five years, the family had traveled to Tybee Island, a small island off the coast of Georgia.

Clarence had taken off two weeks from his job at the electric company — vacation days that he saved for the best time of the year. His wife, Betty, a homemaker, looked forward to those two weeks in June, preparing for weeks beforehand for the meals they would have, the clothes they would bring, and where they would stop along the way. Ten-year-old Bobby and eight-year-old Mildred had grown up going to the island, counting down the days with growing anticipation. On a map, their little fingers traced the states they would drive through: Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia.

The day of their departure had finally arrived. Bobby and Mildred raced each other to the car, sliding in the backseat and slamming the door. The old Chevy lurched out of the driveway and the rural Maryland landscape began to fly past. Windows down, they rode on the sticky vinyl seats down winding country roads, with a slight breeze providing some relief from the intense heat. Bobby played with the transistor radio, trying to pick up a station.

“How much longer ‘till we get there? It’s been foreeever!”

It had been twenty minutes. The trip had just begun. After hours of driving, they stopped at a rest area somewhere south of DC to have lunch. Betty had packed a picnic lunch of cold fried chicken, threebean salad, and deviled eggs, with Poke cake for dessert. After lunch, it was back in the car to continue on their trip. Driving south along the coastal backroads, the rolling hills of Maryland gave way to those of Virginia, then North Carolina. Finally the palmettos of South Carolina became the Spanish moss of the lower South. Bobby and Mildred bickered in the backseat for half the trip, and slept for the rest. They woke up when they were finally in sight of the sand dunes … driving across the bridge that led to the island. The small collection of houses and stores painted in pastels came into view. Just steps from the beach, the main street was nothing much to look

at, but it was seaside perfection.

The apartment they rented was small, and located above a snack shop. It was a rectangular building, whose siding was painted a faded mint green, trimmed in faded yellow. Wooden steps led to the upstairs apartment. Bobby spent much of his time just outside, picking up empty pop bottles, which he sold to the snack shop at two cents apiece. Of course he always spent his profit on bubblegum no sooner than the money entered his possession.

A musty scent hung in the air when they opened the door, and the furniture was covered in dust. Betty would fix up the place while Clarence took the impatient Bobby and Mildred to the beach. They would spend almost the entirety of the two weeks outside, playing by the store, on the wharf, and on the beach. The extreme heat and humidity didn’t matter so much when they ran into the surf, with the cool water splashing around their legs.

Each day, the family would wake at eight and walk ten minutes down to the beach, with packed lunches in tow. Bobby and Mildred would start to run once they neared the sandy boardwalk over the dunes. They spent the morning chasing each other back and forth across the beach and building a sand castle. After Bobby gave up trying to dig a tunnel to China, he decided to bury Mildred in the sand. This ended unfortunately, as Betty had to rescue Mildred from a sandy fate. Bobby’s attention quickly turned elsewhere. He wandered around in the surf and discovered the largest seashell he’d ever seen. When he put it to his ear, he could hear the sounds of the ocean echoing in the depths of the shell.

“Look at what I found! Look!”

After everyone properly admired Bobby’s find, it was time to head back to the apartment for the afternoon. On the way home from the beach, they stopped by the snack shop for some of the owner’s homemade sweet tea to cool off after the heat of the beach. The syrupy tea was the perfect refreshment for a Georgia afternoon. The instant they got back to the apartment, Bobby proudly placed his new shell in a prominent place on the windowsill.

In the early evening with sunburns and tans, they ventured down to the wharf. The hot, sticky Southern air smelled of salt and seafood. The shrimp boats were coming in with their catches for the day, and the

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wharf was busy with activity. After some bartering, the family came away with a gallon of shrimp. Betty would roll them in cornflakes with margarine, then she broiled them in the oven. According to Clarence, they were “the best things you’d ever eat.”

At twilight, when the lightning bugs were just starting to come out, and the sound of cicadas threatened to drown out Bobby’s transistor radio, they headed back down to the wharf, where the entire town had gathered for the night’s entertainment. Every evening, a local band would play some popular songs, and everyone would dance underneath the canopy of lights strung up along the wharf.

That night, when the Nelsons arrived, the band was playing “Hound Dog” by Elvis Presley. The crowd was swing dancing, laughing, and chatting excitedly. All of the town came down to the wharf — small children ran haphazardly through the adults, playing tag and hide-and-seek. Teenagers were showing everyone up on the dance floor, with fancy new twists and turns that they had seen in the movies. While some of the adults actually joined in the dancing, Clarence and Betty chose to sit in lawn chairs along with some of their friends, relaxing and sipping sweet tea, talking about how much their children had grown over the past year and enjoying a good gossip. It was the perfect summer evening in the South.

When they arrived home that evening, Bobby and Mildred went straight to bed.

Later, in the early hours of the morning when it was still dark, a small noise interrupted the still and quiet. A scratching and a sliding that would have been unheard in the business of the day seemed to echo in the silence before dawn. Awakened, Bobby lay in bed and listened, paralyzed with fear by the scratching that seemed to come from the direction of the window. Finally, after what seemed like ages, with little boy’s bravery, he tiptoed to the window. What he saw was shocking — his shell had grown legs and was sliding along the windowsill!

The best two weeks of the year had come to an end. Clarence and Betty loaded the car while Bobby and Mildred stared forlornly in the direction of the ocean. Bobby found his shell a new home near some bushes, while Mildred purchased bubblegum for the trip back. Clarence started driving in the direction of the bridge. Bobby and Mildred looked back at the beach and looked forward to their next Southern summer.

READER SUBMISSION JANICE EAST

ENNIS BLUEBONNET TRAILS I had always dreamed of going to the Texas Hill Country to see the wildflowers in bloom, but each spring would come and go and we wouldn’t make it to see the bluebonnets. In my East Texas hometown, a few bluebonnets grow in a yard or two, although there are not fields of wildflowers growing like the hill country visions I had. With the responsibilities of life on our farm, my husband and I had always been unable to break away for a weekend trip to the hill country and my dreams of getting to see the bluebonnet fields first-hand would slip away each spring. We would always say, “next year, we will go,” but we would repeat that phrase again the following year. Fortunately, we learned about the Ennis Bluebonnet Trails and better yet, we could take care of our farm responsibilities early, travel. to see the wildflowers in bloom, and return home in time to finish up the day at home. One Saturday, we got up early and made the 100-mile day trip to Ennis, Texas to make my dreams come true. As we journeyed towards our destination, we saw occasional patches of the state flower of Texas, then the fields became larger and the flowers more abundant. I became giddy with excited seeing the gorgeous fields as we drove along the country roads.

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ARTISAN DIRECTORY Urban Farmhouse

Indian Trail Pottery

Sweet Harvest Farms

A marriage of timeworn vintage finds and irresistible new classics for your home. myurbanfarmhouse.com urbanfarmhouse.blogspot.com One North Main St. Thornville, OH 43076 ____________________________

Handmade, functional pottery along with unique gifts made in our Central PA home.

652 South Center St., Gratz, PA miller5@epix.net etsy.com/shop/indiantrailpottery ____________________________

All natural and luxurious handmade bath and body sundries!

Wholesale inquiries welcome.

Cynthia Young-Jennings, Proprietor sweetharvestfarms.com sweetharvestfarms@verizon.net (813) 244-6025 ____________________________

Lucky 7 Design

Christopher Gurshin New England Paintings and Folk Art

Eco Friendly Home Interiors & Gifts Vintage-Handmade-SalvageRecycled Art, Furniture & Accessories Lucky7Design@yahoo.com mylucky7design.blogspot.com 76 Main St., Woodbridge, NJ 07095

(732) 750-1777 ____________________________

Curiosity Authentic antique & vintage home decor. Voted Best Trend-conscious Antiques Store in Charleston! www.curiositycharleston.com 56 1/2 Queen St. Charleston SC 29401 ____________________________

Pleasant Valley Homespun Primitives Makers of handmade primitive cookie jars and canister sets as well as other fine handmade items! pleasantvalleyhomespunprimitives.com

pleasantvalleyprims@gmail.com ____________________________

Duct Tape And Denim Upcycled vintage jewelry: Tutus for Your Wrist, Road Trip Necklaces, & more.

DuctTapeAndDenim.com

Quality and Distinction since 1966 1313 Main St., Glastonbury, CT 06033

(860) 633-7707 chris@christophergurshin.com ____________________________

UrbanFarm Naturals, LLC

Star Metal Art 166 S. ELMWOOD Rd. FARMINGTON, IL 61531 We do custom orders.

Made in Farmington, IL! starcevichwelding@yahoo.com George & Sue Starcevich, owners

(309) 224-2352 | starmetalart.com ____________________________

Gathering Better Junque

Organic Body, Bath & more!

Handmade the Old-Fashioned Way! UrbanFarmNaturals.com UrbanFarmNaturals.Etsy.com (425) 42-8081 | Sales@UrbanFarmNaturals.com ____________________________

Salvaged Gift, Garden & Home!

211 W. Sycamore St. Willows, CA 95988 (530) 934--3664 gatheringjunque@att.net ____________________________

Tippy Stockton Jewelry

Kathy Schoemer American Antiques

Vintage and modern, feminine and fun, affordable and well made jewelry for all women. www.tippystockton.com 948 Cedar St., Edmonds WA 98020

(425) 359-8555 tippystockton@aol.com ____________________________

Susie’s Corner “All manner of marvelous things you don’t yet know you need.”

Antiques-Collectibles-Oddities susiescorner.net or on facebook at “Susie’s Corner” susiescornermomence@yahoo.com

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Founded 1971. A lovingly selected inventory of country antiques in a tiny NH village.

PO Box 173, Acworth, NH 03601 (603) 835-2105 kathyschoemerantiques@gmail.com

kathyschoemerantiques.com ____________________________

Walnut Ridge Primitives Original Folk Art Designs - Finished Goods, DIY Patterns & more... picturetrail.com/walnutridgeprimitives facebook.com/ WalnutRidgePrimitives

etsy.com/shop/wrprimitives

ARTISAN DIRECTORY Lodgepole by PineRidge (360) 750-7875 16516 NW 41st Ave. Ridgefield, WA 98642 LodgepoleByPineRidge.com facebook.LodgepoleByPineRidge.com

Quality, Handcrafted in USA, Rustic, Mission & Western Furniture & Architectural Woodwork. ____________________________

Rustic & Refined Interiors (360) 904-5789 16516 NW 41st Ave. Ridgefield, WA 98642 RusticAndRefined.blogspot.com facebook.RusticRefined.com Inspirational Interior Design ~ Mixing Artistry, Functional Experience, Vintage and Creative Whimsy. ____________________________

Simple Daisy Rustic inspired handcrafted silver jewelry with sweet messages of inspiration

simpledaisy.etsy.com heather@simpledaisy.com ____________________________

That Old Blue House Unique jewelry created with vintage lace, quilts, marbles, buttons and found objects thatoldbluehouse2.etsy.com Lisa Schureman P.O. Box 321, Green Valley, IL 61534

(309) 840--3600 thatoldbluehouse@gmail.com ____________________________

Prairie Primitives Folk Art Primitive dolls, hearts, stars and more handmade in Northern California!

PrairiePrimitives.etsy.com

Johanne Cassia

Johanne Cassia is a self taught folk artist and people often say they could walk right into her paintings. Johanne paints to capture the “history, traditions and spirit of America.”

Olde Ipswich Shop & Gallery Johanne Cassia, Folk Painter, Designer 83 County Road, Ipswich, MA 01938

(978)356-8838 jcassia@comcast.net

____________________________

Simple Folk Primitive and Folk Art Fiber Crafts and Other Simple Pleasures PO Box 407, Freeport, ME 04032

simplefolk.com info@simplefolk.com ____________________________

Little Luxuries of Mackinac Island

Little Luxuries of Mackinac is a little gift shop located on beautiful Mackinac Island.

info@littleluxuriesofmackinac.com

(989) 292-0558 7372-107 Main St., Mackinac Island, MI 49757 ____________________________

Fawn Run Farm Mercantile

Sharon E. Ascherl, Folk Artist Detailed paintings of a gentler time in America’s past and handpainted brides’ boxes.

(410) 874-8663 Odenton, MA sascherl@yahoo.com sharonascherlfolkart.com ____________________________

The Barn Woodshop Our intent is to make home furniture and accessories that warm the heart.

(574) 264-0322 thebarnwoodshop.etsy.com thebarnwoodshop@gmail ____________________________

R H Ulmer Carving & Woodworking In historic Marietta, OH rhulmer.com & Facebook: R H Ulmer Carving & Woodworking (740) 350-5015 Primitive & Colonial Style furniture & smalls. Emphasis on finishing techniques...and having fun! ____________________________

Fairytale-Stitches

Folk art, primitives, antiques, and more.

Folk artist/owner Marcy Dailey. Open 1st weekend of each month.

3883 E. 700 N. Rolling Prairie, IN

Custom Embroidery and Applique Textiles for children, adults, and home decor. etsy.com/shop/fairytalestitchesbou

fawnrunprimitives.com ____________________________

fairytalestitchesboutique@yahoo.com __________________________________

Victorian House Scones, LLC victorianhousescones.com (877) 749-1943 (toll free) sconelady@victorianhousescones.com

Award winning, artisan crafted scone, biscuit, and cookie mixes. Available both retail and wholesale (requires log-ins).

PrairiePrimitivesFolkArt@gmail.com

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(270) 232-5171

Handcrafted at Wit’s End One of a kind repurposed vintage feed sack purses and totes. ginnymae.etsy.com Custom and wholesale inquiries happily considered.

ARTISAN DIRECTORY Bittersweetfolkart Primitive Folk Dolls and Needfuls. All handmade in the USA Wholesale inquiries are accepted

bittersweetfolkart.com bittersweetfolkart@cox.net ____________________________

Millstone Mercantile “Peddlin’ Antiques, Primitives and Needful Goods” Robin Harrison, Proprietress (434) 660-2143 ____________________________

The Rusty Rooster 211 N. Range Ave. Denham Springs, LA 70726 (225) 667-1710 Owner Julie Guidry. From Rustic to Refined with Vintage, Architectural, Farmhouse and Shabby ____________________________

Greenwood Mercantile 409 W Main St. Greenwood, MO 64034 (816) 5- 37-7033 A group shop featuring hand-picked primitives and early country finds. ____________________________

Winding Vine Designs Heartfelt primitive folk art completely hand sewn by Patti Gagliardi windingvine.blogspot.com windingvinedesigns.etsy.com pgagliardi9@hotmail.com ____________________________

Olde Tyme Marketplace

Antiques,Vintage,Gifts and Good Junk. For the Farmhouse, Cottage and Cabin

oldetymemarketplace.blogspot.com

oldetymemarketplace.etsy.com Beth Lewis (704) 942-6258

Autumn JUNKFEST & FLEA MARKET Join the JunkFest girls and treasure seekers of all kinds for a fabulous mix of junky goodness! September 8th, Carrington, ND Fairgrounds Vendor inquiries: Cassie 701-652-2412 General show info: Missy (hafner5@ daktel.com) or Lynette (701) 674-3281

Brady Bears Studio Specializing in antique, primitive style mohair bears and other animals and mixed media Folk art.

BradyBears.com BradyBearsStudio.blogspot.com BradyBearsStudio@yahoo.com ____________________________

____________________________

Willow Creek Crossing

Curly Willow Collections

Oakdale, PA 15071 (724) 693-0191

(desirable, PRETTY, inspire) art - cards - patterns curlywillowco.etsy.com facebook.com/curlywillowco ____________________________

A prim/folk art/country shop situated on the bridge in “America’s Hometown” Oakdale, Pennsylvania. ____________________________

The Painted Porch

Black Sheep Antiques

A Multi-Dealer Shop offering an ever-changing collection of Antiques, Cottage, Architectural,and Primitive wares, lovingly collected, and wonderfully displayed!

Diane Kortuem, Owner paintedporchmn.com ____________________________

7094 US HWY 231, Utica, KY Open Tuesday-Saturday 10am-5pm or by appointment (270) 903-7859

willowcreekcrossing.blogspot.com

Find us on Facebook: “Black Sheep Antiques”

____________________________

EarthAngelsToys.com Founder & Owner, Jen O’Connor

Shambora Studios

presents the best in contemporary folk art.

Offering ReLoved antiquities, painted furniture, home decor and adornments for you and your vintage inspired home.

Noblesville, IN jaslines@comcast.net shamborastudios.blogspot.com ____________________________

(845) 986-8720 from 8-8 eastern Warwick, NY ____________________________

Crows in the Attic Primitives A variety of primitive and extreme prim dolls and critters, smalls and needfuls, everyday and holiday!

Handmade in the USA! Wholesale to qualified businesses. theheadcrow@aol.com crowsintheatticprimitives.blogspot.com

crowsintheatticprimitives.com

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Country Plus

20 Main St., Hopkinton, MA 01748

countryplusonline.com Facebook: countryplushopkinton Antiques and primitives to decorate your home. New England artisans feature prim and grubby dolls, hand made reproduction furniture, signs, dried and fresh herbs and unique floral wreaths and arrangements.

____________________________ To join our Artisan Directory please email Hillary at advertise.folk@gmail.com

FOLK | SUMMER 2012 A FRESH-PICKED SOUTHERN SUMMER

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UNTIL NEXT TIME Until we see each other again, may you enjoy the humid summer days! I hope your firefly jar is always full and your sweet tea always cold. Join us next issue as we celebrate the 4th of July, cook up a potluck, and make a few baskets with Longaberger. If you’re a new member of the FOLK family be sure to check out the bottom of this page for how to subscribe.

Don’t forget to meet us in Springfield, OH on May 18-20 for the Springfield Antique Show and Flea Market. I will be there to celebrate the kick-off of Vintage Marketplace.

I HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!

—Ben

SUBSCRIBE: To subscribe by mail simply fill out this form, cut off the pink area, enclose a check for $25.00 and mail everything to PO Box 195, Beaver Dam, KY 42320. Or subscribe online at magazinebyfolk.com For non-US/Canada subscriptions please email us.

NAME: STREET ADDRESS: __________________________ APT NUMBER: _____ CITY:_______________________ STATE/PROVINCE : ______ ZIP/POSTAL CODE: ______________ EMAIL: ___________________________ FOLK | 104 | 2012 ___________________

… Jen O’Connor Presents…

Artful Décor and Accessories for the Handmade Life and Home home décor, folk art, paintings, jewelry & accessories, textiles, soft-sculpture, heirloom toys, pottery, art dolls, vintage fancies, luxury goods, books, fashion and more

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May ‒ • 11th Annual “Spring Fling” • Saratoga Springs, NY Special Guests: Publisher JO PACKHAM & Sis Boom’s JENNIFER PAGANELLI June ‒ • Artists’ Showcase • Lafayette, NJ SAVE THE DATES: September 14‒16 & October 26‒28 • Country Living Fairs Join the mailing list to hear the news on events, sales and new arrivals Follow the BLOG for ideas and inspiration Visit the website to shop