THE LOST BUCKTAIL
A forgotten Wellsboro captain led the legendary Bucktails at Gettysburg, 148 years ago this month.
By Kay Barrett
STPR makes local a second place winner.
By Patricia Brown Davis
Inspiration begets inspiration.
By Audrey Patterson & Matt Connor
The YHEC sharpshooters return to Mill Cove.
Nature
By Tom Murphy
Monarchs and admirals are easily caught with a little help from author Jeffery Glassberg.
Race Tracks No More
By Dawn Bilder
The volunteers at Keystone Greyhounds prove life is not complete until you have a hound.
By John & Lynne Diamond-Nigh
What once was old is new again.
Feet In The Water
By Nicole Hagan
Forgo the town pool and find the perfect swimming hole.
By Dawn Bilder & Jim Obleski
Captain Alfred Sofield led the northern Pennsylvania sharpshooters to grim glory.
By Matt Connor
Michael Patterson welds sculptures and success from cold hard steel.
By Angela Cannon-Crothers
Whimsical and colorful creations find a home at this Seneca Lake gallery and dessert cafe.
Top: The Bucktail’s Last Shot sketched by Edwin Forbes in 1863. Middle: Welder Michael Patterson and his fish sculpture. Bottom: Glass garden art at SkyLand Farm where nearly 400 artists and craftspeople display their creations.
Cover art by Tucker Worthington.
Fingerlakes Wine Review
By Holly Howell
A little bit of Italian wine makes for a savory summer.
Read & Feed
By Cornelius O’Donnell
James Beard’s cookbooks make for a library of good eating. 38
Someplace Like Home
By Dave Milano
The day Dave met Old Pete.
Back of the Mountain
Light Up the Night
P ublisher
Michael Capuzzo
e ditor - in - C hief
Teresa Banik Capuzzo
A sso C i A te P ublisher
George Bochetto, Esq.
M A n A ging e ditor
Kay Barrett
C o P y e ditors
Mary Nance, Kathleen Torpy
s t A ff W riter
Dawn Bilder
i ntern
Nicole Hagan
C over A rtist
Tucker Worthington P r odu C tio n M A n A ger / g r AP hi C d esigner
Amanda Doan-Butler
C ontri buting W riters
Kay Barrett, Dawn Bilder, Sarah Bull, Angela Cannon-Crothers, Jennifer Cline, Matt Connor, Barbara Coyle, John & Lynne Diamond-Nigh, Patricia Brown Davis, Steve Hainsworth, Martha Horton, Holly Howell, David Ira Kagan, Roberta McCulloch-Dews, Cindy Davis Meixel, Suzanne Meredith, Fred Metarko, Karen Meyers, Dave Milano, Tom Murphy, Mary Myers, Jim Obleski, Cornelius O’Donnell, Audrey Patterson, Gary Ranck, Kathleen Thompson, Joyce M. Tice, Linda Williams
P hotogr AP hy
James Fitzpatrick, Ann Kamzelski
s A les r e P resent A tives
Christopher Banik, Michele Duffy
A CC ounting
Zachery Redell
b e A gle
Cosmo
Mountain Home is published monthly by Beagle Media LLC, 39 Water St., Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, 16901. Copyright 2010 Beagle Media LLC. All rights reserved.
To advertise, subscribe or provide story ideas phone 570-724-3838 or e-mail info@mountainhomemag.com. Each month copies of Mountain Home are available for free at hundreds of locations in Tioga, Potter, Bradford, Lycoming, Union, Clinton, Wyoming, and Sullivan counties in Pennsylvania; Steuben, Chemung, Schuyler, Yates, Seneca, Tioga, and Ontario counties in New York. Visit us at www.mountainhomemag.com.
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MOUNTAIN Ch ATTER
And It’s Tony In Second
As the cars raced into the finish line there was no mistaking who was behind the driver’s seat of car #143 as it took a second place finish. Tony Esposito, along with co-driver Phil Barnes, in his bright blue 1993 Subaru Imprezza rally car took second in the Open Light class of the Waste Management Susquehannock Trail Performance Rally.
In the Open class, victory went to driver Antoine L’Estage and co-driver Nathalie Richard from Quebec, who were driving a 2009 Mitsubishi Lancer. Second place was also a Mitsubishi driven by William Bacon and Peter Watt. The top two qualify for X Games invitations.
Open class rally hopefuls Dave Mirra and co-driver Martin Headland driving a 2010 Subaru Imprezza went off the track on the same corner where two years ago Travis Pastrana rolled his car. Headland was treated at Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hospital and released.
Ken Baker and co-driver Alex Gelsomino were also crowd favorites in the new Monster energy drink 2010 Ford Feista. Unfortunately, the team had to pull out in stage 10 due to transmission failure.
Rally favorite Pastrana was absent this year; he is currently in Australia shooting video for his MTV stunt show “Nitro Circus.” However, Esposito and Barnes proved that sometimes being a hometown celebrity can be just as nice as worldwide fame.
~Kay Barrett
Phil Barns (left) and Tony Esposito with their 1993 Subaru Imprezza
Original artwork by Jim Obleski
Forgotten Hero
Captain Alfred Sofield led the northern Pennsylvania sharpshooters to grim glory
By Dawn Bilder & Jim Obleski
In a day when the sound of distant thunder was really thunder, not the rumbling of an approaching battle, and fighting with your brother rarely meant killing him, there came a call to arms. President Lincoln announced the start of the Civil War in 1861. Trying to avoid using a draft, he called for 75,000 ordinary men to volunteer to fight for the Union army. Some men may have thought, I don’t want to die, not yet. Others may have resented the intrusion into their lives. It’s unknown what went through the mind of thirty-eight year old Alfred Sofield, the Justice of the Peace for Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, when he heard the call, but what prevailed in his nature was bravery and patriotism. Out of the thousands of volunteers requested from Pennsylvania, 300 were to come from Tioga County. Not only did Sofield volunteer himself, but he was largely responsible for recruiting the required quota in just two weeks’ time. Sofield and the other volunteers would join men from all over northern Pennsylvania, men who would become known as the tough, sharpshooting, battle-efficient Bucktails.
Sofield’s recruiting skills were only the beginning of his contributions to the war effort. His leadership and fighting abilities were, as with the Bucktails as a whole, legendary during the Civil War. Yet now Sofield is one of the forgotten soldiers of the Bucktails, rarely remembered or recognized in books and battlefield tours. This negligence seems especially unfair when it comes to the battle of Gettysburg, which occurred 147 years ago this July, and may not have been a victory for the Union without the blood and pride of the Bucktails.
The Bucktails were mostly lumbermen, farmers, laborers, and tradesmen. They were called the Bucktails because they attached the tails of deer to their uniform caps. To become a Bucktail, the men had to prove their excellent marksmanship, and could only wear the tails of deer they had shot themselves. Trading in their axes and ploughs for the constant companion of a rifle (always at hand even before the war), one of two battalions, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Kane, stayed with General Irwin McDowell in the valley of Virginia. The other battalion, led by Major Roy Stone, endured the fortunes of General George A. McClellan’s army during the Peninsula campaign and was at the forefront of almost every deadly encounter.
Because of the Bucktails’ skills and heroism in the first year of the war, it was decided that more troops like them should be brought into
the field. In July of 1862, Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton authorized Stone to proceed to Pennsylvania with the purpose of raising a Bucktail Brigade, also known as the Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. Twenty companies were organized in less than twenty days, and the 149th and 150th Regiments were born. The 149th was comprised of men recruited from eleven counties: Tioga, Lycoming, Clearfield, Lebanon, Alleghany, Luzerne, Potter, Perry, Clarion, Mifflin, and Huntingdon. Stone, now a colonel, Lieutenant Colonel Walton Dwight, and Major George W. Speer were chosen to be their field officers.
Sofield’s company, Company A of the 149th Regiment, of which he was senior Captain, bore the honor of being chosen to go to Washington, D.C., to protect President Lincoln. Confederate General Stonewall Jackson and his troops were headed for D.C. with the intent to either kill or capture Lincoln—and to burn down the White House.
A photograph taken of Sofield during this time shows a young man with light hair and light eyes, with a seamless face and haunted eyes, the eyes often seen in other soldiers’ photographs who have witnessed and participated in the inevitable grim business of war. He was described as well liked, well respected, and levelheaded, a trait highly valued in an officer during battle, by both his townsmen and his fellow soldiers. But
at home the flip side of levelheadedness was a problem, for he was an unaffectionate husband and distant father to his three sons. As Justice of the Peace he married many couples, but he had trouble bringing himself closer to his own wife, Helen Mar Jones Sofield.
The Bucktails reputation in the army continued to grow fast and favorably. “They were skilled marksmen,” wrote one officer about them, “and were constantly practicing at long range, from two-hundred to onethousand yards. To their peculiar tactics, constant practice, individual responsibility, and good marksmanship, can be credited the fearful punishment inflicted upon the enemy in every action in which they were engaged, without a proportionate loss to them.”
During the war, many soldiers grew detached from their families and loved ones out of emotional necessity; other soldiers strengthened their will to be closer to them. Sofield was one of the latter. In a letter to his wife, written twentyeight days before the battle of Gettysburg, he wrote, “I have the blues worse than ever. To be reminded [by a letter from home] that I was so necessary to your happiness, and feeling far short of my duty as a husband as I have been for the past twelve years, and how indulgent and forgiving you have been, causes me to feel sad… If I am permitted to join you again after getting out of this war, I will try to atone for
past errors.”
The Bucktails fought in a good number of small skirmishes and bigger battles. But their presence was most profoundly felt at the battle of Gettysburg, the battle widely regarded as the turning point of the war for the Union army.
On the first day of the battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 1863, the Bucktail Brigade arrived on the battlefield at 11 a.m. Their first post was on the ridge directly beyond where the seminary stood. In gaining their position, they had to pass an open field, under heavy fire from the Confederates, who were sheltered by a fence. Without firing a shot, the Bucktails charged the fence with their bayonets outstretched in their arms, unprotected by any barrier. They drove the rebel line from the fence and held the position, despite the constant fire from batteries posted on the opposite ridge. Later in the day, the enemy compelled the troops on the right of the brigade to fall back, and the 149th was immediately thrust forward to occupy a deep railroad cut at Chambersburg Pike. Instantaneously, shells plummeted down on them with such accuracy that some of the men thought they were being mistakenly hit by their own canons. One shell whistled through the air, almost drowned out by gunfire and the screams of men giving orders and of men being torn apart by bullets. This shell overwhelmed Company B of the 149th, killing or wounding seven men. One of the men stood up and started hopping down the line on his hands and feet, yelling, “I am killed, I am killed.” His commanding officer told him to get back to his place, but the man stretched out on the opposite bank and died.
Just moments later, another shell toppled toward Company A. The shell exploded under the prostrate body of Sofield, cutting him in half, his head landing next to his heels. It had only been four weeks since he had written his wife with the promise to be a better husband. His sudden death left him no time to think of his wife and children, his fellow soldiers, his country, or even the contribution his life would make in the future fortunes of the Union. The haunted look in his eyes was gone.
The same shell killed Private Edwin Dimmick, who also had a wife and kids praying for his safe return, and Corporal Nathan Wilcox, who was the fourth to die in his family that same year. Any death in
the close-knit group of soldiers belonging to the same company was devastating. But in Company A, these soldiers were friends and neighbors before the war, when people were just people, living together in a community, helping each other if someone’s house burnt down or baking goodies for each other during holidays. Even the soldiers’ families at home shared solace while they waited out the war.
Lieutenant Louis Bodine took up the charge after Sofield’s gruesome death, and, although wounded, survived Gettysburg. The 149th held their position on the pike against overwhelming numbers and did not fall back until after Meredith’s Brigade on their left retired. Fighting as they fell back, they repositioned themselves on Seminary Ridge. They made another stubborn stand until they were outflanked, and they took up positions on Cemetery Hill.
“I relied greatly on Stone’s Brigade [the Bucktails],” wrote Union General Abner Doubleday (no, he did not invent baseball) in his report of the first day of battle, “to hold the position assigned it… My confidence in this noble body of men was not misplaced… They repulsed the repeated attacks of vastly superior numbers and maintained their position until the final retreat of the whole line. Stone himself was shot down, battling until the last.”
Stone survived and wrote in his official report, “No language can do justice to the conduct of my officers and the men on the
Fourth Bucktail Regimental Association reunion in Wellsboro, October 1890.
bloody first day—to the coolness with which they watched and waited, under a fierce storm of shot and shell, the approach of the enemy’s overwhelming masses, and prompt and perfect execution, under fire, of all the tactic of the battlefield, to the fierceness of their repeated attacks, and to the desperate measure of their resistance. They fought as though each man felt that upon his own arm hung the fate of the day.”
It was during the second and third days of the battle that the Bucktails made their most important stands. They entered the battlefield at the far left of Little Round Top, which was being taken over by several Confederate divisions. An Ohio artillery battery next to them started to retreat, but the Bucktails charged down the hill, pushing the Confederates back through Devil’s Den. Their actions ended further Confederate advances up Little Round Top. When the fighting was over, Plum Run, which flowed between Devil’s Den and Little Round Top, ran red with blood, causing its bed and sides to look like red clay.
Captain John P. Bard of the 42nd Infantry, 13th Reserves, 1st Rifles, in his official officer’s report after the battle, penned, “From the time the Pennsylvania Reserves [the Bucktails] entered the battle until the end, the Confederates at this point of the line fought entirely on the defensive; up to that time, they were the attacking party and were confident with victory.” He continued, “The
Confederates had driven the 3rd Corps, with terrible slaughter, through the Peach Orchard, met the Regulars in the Wheat Field … and drove the Union troops back across Plum Run and were on the eve of capturing Little Round Top, the real key to Meade’s position, when they met the Pennsylvania Reserves and the tide was turned.”
It’s hard to fully appreciate their acts of heroism without understanding the conditions in which they fought. The July heat bore down on their wool clothes and caused sweat that made the material itch. The wool didn’t absorb water well, and the moisture that formed between their skin and clothes chafed their bodies. Rations were short. Many of them didn’t sleep for three days. Each night the smell of rotting bodies and the cries of disabled men left on the battlefield for help and water or the mercy of death filled their noses and ears until all they could imagine was death—instant or lingering—and nothing else.
“I was in one of the biggest fights and hardest one that I have ever been in,” wrote Bucktail Private William F. Stone of his experience at Gettysburg, “and I have been in some not very small ones. We lost an immense site of men, and it was one of the horriblest sights that you ever saw. I have seen men … with their heads off and some with their legs and arms off. I have traveled over thousands of such poor creatures … but on we go, heedless of all dangers… We were marched right into the mouth of cannons and in front of their rifle pits… Will Hurlburt went to the hospital again, but he’s not so sick that he don’t intend to get killed by the rebel bullets.”
Among the 450 men of the 149th Bucktails alone, sixty-six were killed, 159 were wounded, and 111 were captured or missing; this amounted to 336 men out of 450.
Many outfits after the battle were worn out, diminished and left behind to rest up, but the Bucktails kept on going, moving with the army in pursuit of Confederate General Robert E. Lee.
The Bucktails fought hard for their country until the very end of the war. The last Confederate general surrendered on June 23, 1865. The next day, June 24, 1865, the Bucktails were sent to Harrisburg, where they were paid and discharged, free to return home.
As with most war stories, the tragedy continued after the fighting stopped.
See Bucktails on page 46
heart of the Mountain The Greenest Green
Patricia Brown Davis
Afew years ago, my daughter Kathleen and I were attending an exhibit of paintings by Tucker Worthington, called “On the Fork” at our local art gallery. We were mesmerized by one simply called “Zazen.” Intense greens of all hues, it showed Stony Fork Creek in all her summer glory. Kathleen remarked, “Mom, when I first saw Stony Fork, I thought, this is the greenest green I’ve ever seen!”
People communicate and interact in three basic styles: visually, auditorily, and kinesthetically—the outline for what would become the lyrics of a ballad—and part of Kathleen’s statement, the title—“The Greenest Green.” Once the words were there, the melody tumbled along like the creek. Here’s the lyrics:
Did you ever slip away near the sunset edge of day To a place that tucked you right inside its heart?
The trees are friendly walls, and the sky, it never falls, And the floor of mossy carpet tops the earth.
The room’s a forest sheen of a misty emerald green, And the air dances with the ferns and leaves. The green’ry climbs the stones, and the trees are overgrown, And this temple’s colored vines do interweave.
The Greenest Green I have ever seen, can be seen on Stony Fork; It’s in the trees, the rocks and leaves, but mostly in my heart.
The stream moves along with its mystic merry sound, As it splashes, winds, and turns and carves its way. When the gentle rain comes down, their duet becomes a song, And my heart hears every word they have to say.
The creatures in this home, join in and sing along, A perfect green impromptu as it’s played. And the whistle through the pines, shake the spruce and woody vines, And their happy lives become a serenade.
The Greenest Green I have ever heard, can be heard on Stony Fork; It’s in the wild and the sounds of nature’s child, but mostly in my heart.
The sun moves ’cross the sky, taps my shoulders, makes me sigh; As the shadows grow, it cools my room with peace.
Green haze starts its slow ascent, and mist wraps me like a tent; And the dreamtime in my soul takes flight in me.
Many come by here to rest, but Tucker felt it best; With his paints he brushed the canvas with his soul; Light and water dance in space, and entwine in an embrace, And the “sky is earth,” and “earth is sky,” you know!
The Greenest Green you can ever feel, can be felt on Stony Fork. It’s day and night, mist and air, wind and light, but mostly in my heart. It’s in the wild and the sounds of nature’s child, but mostly in my heart. It’s in the trees, the rocks and leaves, but mostly in my heart.
One of our county commissioners, Erick Coolidge, who sang the song, which inspired him to record it with the help of a commissioner from another county, who was financially inspired to back him, with the proceeds going on to breast cancer research in memory of our mothers.
To purchase a copy of the song contact Erick Coolidge ar 570-723-8209.
Patricia Brown Davis is a professional musician and memoirist seeking stories about the Wellsboro glass factory. Contact her at patd@mountainhomemag.com.
Goals Worth Shooting For
Top marksmen of Youth Hunter Education Challenge return to Mill Cove
By Audrey Patterson & Matt Connor
As young hunters gather at Mill Cove, a group of local boosters develop big plans for the area.
Every hunter dreams of an adventure of a lifetime, pulling his bowstring back to hit his mark, anxiously waiting for a cloud of black powder to clear, a chance at their favorite game species in a wilderness that will challenge their skills.
And every year hundreds of young hunters achieve a measure of that dream at the Mill Cove environmental area in Mansfield, where the National Rifle Association’s (NRA) International Youth Hunter Education Challenge (YHEC) has been taking place on alternate years since 1999, this year from July 26 through 30.
Young hunters eighteen years old or younger, who have completed a hunter-safety training course, participate in regional and state NRA Youth Hunter Education Challenges. The event tests them and helps to reinforce that knowledge for future use in the field. The competition is held at the state level, after which the top-ranked individuals advance to the NRA International YHEC.
“YHEC is the only program of this kind in the world,” said Charlie Fox, Chairman of Mill Cove, Inc. “These are some of the best in the nation. The YHEC competition will draw young hunters from as far west as Oregon and
as far south as Louisiana, 20 plus states in all.”
Shooting challenges and hunter responsibility challenges make up a total of eight International YHEC events; archery, muzzleloader, shotgun, and light rifle as well as a hunter responsibility exam, hunter safety trail challenge, orienteering skills, and wildlife identification challenge. Although scores are given for these eight areas, shooting sports also teach youth life skills – discipline, goal setting, problem solving and good sportsmanship.
“Three hundred competitors come here, plus coaches and family,” said Bruce Dart, treasurer of Mill Cove Inc., the non-profit corporate entity created to maintain and develop the 250-acre Mill Cove forest area. “In all there are about 1,000 people that come here for a week. Many of them stay at local hotels. A lot of the kids stay in the dorms at Mansfield University.
“They spend somewhere in the neighborhood of $335,000 in this area during the course of that week,” he added. “In terms of economic impact, one dollar circulates three times, so they bring about a million dollars worth of economic impact to the region when they come here.”
The economic aspect to the YHEC event is an important component to the nonprofit’s goal to create an environmental education center in the densely-forested Mill Cove area.
“The idea was that, gee it’s nice that the
NRA comes in here and that helps the whole region appreciably, but it would be nice if we had some infrastructure in here that would entice some other groups to use the area and multiply that economic impact,” said Dart. “If we could build an environmental education center and have some lab facilities on site, we’d have some tremendous opportunities with Mansfield University and their fisheries program, their biology program, their outdoor recreation leadership program, a whole host of things in that regard.”
Plans currently call for construction of state-of-the-art shooting ranges, for example, which would likely attract the municipal police officers training program, which currently utilizes a shooting range in Coudersport.
“If we could have that here locally, that would be another advantage that we could provide,” Dart said. “There’s just a ton of things that are available. All kinds of school programs could tie into it as well. The opportunities abound if we’re able to put it together. What we hope to do is to have it developed slightly, with a minimum amount of developmental impact, to keep the area as pristine as possible.”
The problem is money. To develop the Mill Cove area in the way Dart, Fox and others hope will likely cost millions of dollars.
“We are just in the process of beginning a capital campaign to raise money for this
And the Winner Is...
Galeton Chamber’s raffle returns with a Polaris ATV, a Harley, or $5,000 cash
By Dawn Bilder
Were you feeling lucky that day?
“Not particularly,” Greg Bee says. “I was just doing the family thing. My first baby, Ella, was about five months old, and I was home feeding her, giving her a bath, and trying to get her to sleep. When the phone rang, I just thought, ‘Who is that calling me?’ Then the person on the phone said that I had won the raffle.”
Thirty-four year old Bee, a general manager for three family-owned Napa Auto Parts stores, had bought one raffle ticket for the Galeton Chamber of Commerce’s first raffle fundraiser from a deliveryman who came to his store. Winners of the raffle could choose between a new a Yamaha Grizzly 450 ATV, a Harley-Davidson Iron 883 motorcycle, or $5,000 in cash.
“At first, when they called me and told me I won, I was shocked, and I thought, ‘Okay. Wow. Seriously?’ I never win anything. They needed me to pick which prize I wanted right away, so I thought for a few minutes. I had to go with the Harley-Davidson Iron 883.”
This year the winner of the raffle will be able to choose between a 2010 Polaris Sportman
500 HO ATV, a 2010 Harley-Davidson Iron 883, or $5,000 in cash.
Canyon Motorsports, located at 1572 Route 6 in Gaines, Pennsylvania, (814-435-2878, www. canyonmotorsports.com), is providing the ATV. The Harley-Davidson is being provided by Larry’s Sport Center, 1913 US Rte. 6 W. in Galeton (814-435-6548, www.
larryssportcenter.com).
Raffle tickets cost $5 per raffle or 5 for $20. This year’s raffle winner will be chosen during the Gale Fest on September 4.
The Gale Fest is a free multi-day festival of arts which includes music, painting, crafts, and activities for the whole family. Go to www.visitgaleton. com for more information on the raffle and the Gale Fest.
Visit one of these local sponsors to buy your raffle tickets
Balsam Real Estate Settlement Co. 19 Crafton St., Wellsboro, PA 16901 570-723-7200 www.balsamsettlement.com
Brick House Deli 4 West Main Street Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-2444
Ed-U-Caterers 14 1st Street Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-2603
Canyon Motorsports Route 6, Gaines, PA 16921 814-435-2878 www.canyonmotorsports.com
Galeton Drug 20 West Street Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-6588
Heart’s Desire 27 W. Main St., Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-2280 www.visitheartsdesire.com
John’s Sporting Goods 27 Whispering Pines Lane Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-3544
Lydia’s 14 East Main Street Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-2411
Nob Hill Motel
289 Route 6 East Galeton, PA 16922 814-435-6738 www.nobhillmotel.com
Top: Cheryl Main, co-owner of Larry’s Sport Center, with raffle motorcycle. Bottom: John and Cindy McCarthy, owners of Canyon Motorsports with raffle ATV.
READING NATURE
Capturing the Admiral
Tom Murphy
One morning a small photo of a distinctive black butterfly with red stripes on the forewings and hindwings appeared in the corner of our bathroom mirror. Madalene, my wife, explained that it was a red admiral, and because she wanted to see one, to sharpen her eyes, she was holding the image in her mind for some time every day. It worked; she soon saw one. Madalene designs and makes quilts, often inspired by the natural world, so it’s no surprise that she is fascinated by the graceful and delicate patchwork quilts that butterflies are. When I asked her to recommend a book for butterflying, she immediately produced Jeffrey Glassberg’s Butterflies through Binoculars.
Glassberg’s book has helped change the focus of butterflying. The stereotype of someone interested in butterflies involves chasing butterflies with a net to add to a collection of dead insects on pins. As with those interested in birds in the 19th century, the rarer the insect, the more likely it is to be killed. The insect books I used as a boy always had a section about collecting and mounting butterflies; this book doesn’t. It mentions collecting butterflies only to condemn it as one of the reasons (after habitat loss and insecticides) that some species of butterflies have disappeared. He talks about getting a close-focus pair of binoculars to be able to see butterflies and a camera as a way to capture them.
More than I expected, finding butterflies is a matter of the right place and the right time, and this book helps put us there. In addition to full-color, nearly life-sized photos of the insects (from both the top and the underside), for each one there is a tiny map of the eastern U.S. showing where it may be found and a clever chart of four states arranged south to north showing how abundant the butterfly would be in any month from March to October.
Using the information in Glassberg’s book, I learned that Madalene’s red admiral appears throughout the eastern U.S., and that in New York (the band closest to us) they are most abundant in May, mid-June to the end of July, and September to mid-October. What I also found out is that they migrate from the southern states, beginning to arrive in New York State by April. In addition, Glassberg notes that they like fields with flowers, “especially moist meadows near woodlands,” just like the field next to the woods below our barn.
I was taking a break from writing this article to do some mowing, and as I settled in on the seat of our little tractor out in front of the barn, I looked down and there it was flying around a clump of weeds—a red admiral. I was at the right place at the right time, and I knew it.
Tom Murphy teaches nature writing at Mansfield University. You can contact him at readingnature@mountainhomemag.com.
project,” said Dart. “We have submitted numerous grant applications to help fund the total project, which has a cost of probably $3.5 million. We don’t have that kind of pocket change, so we’re hopeful to be able to raise some of the money and get a bunch of grant money.”
In thE BEgInnIng…
As late as the 1970s, the Mill Cove area was populated with homes and businesses and hunting lodges, but by the time the Army Corps. of Engineers completed the TiogaHammond dam for flood control purposes in 1980, that population, its infrastructure and buildings had long been moved out of the planned flood zone.
The hundreds of acres surrounding the dam became the property of the Army Corps., and with Fox’s encouragement, the NRA brought YHEC there for the first time in 1999.
“At the end of that first event, the manager of the Corps of Engineers said that if a local group would take over the management of the area, they would lease it to the local group for development,” said Fox. “We met with representatives of the university, the chamber of commerce, the NRA, sportsmen and a whole batch of people over time with that goal in mind. It’s been ten, 11 years in the planning process.”
Thus the plans for the Mill Cove Environmental Education Area grew in conjunction with the establishment of the bi-annual YHEC event at the location, each
bolstering the other’s mission to promote outdoor recreation among young people.
And among the hundreds of young hunters who flock to the area every two years are members of the Troy Junior Sportsmen, which has 38 participants ranging in age from eleven to eighteen.
“At the national level we placed third overall for several years and in many team events,” said coach Laurie Castle of the Troy group. “One of the participants, Jason LeVan, has placed second overall at the national level the last two years.”
Of all the valuable lessons these young athletes learn about shooting, hunting, and personal responsibility, “most important is having fun,” said Castle. “You don’t have to be big or strong, and it doesn’t matter if you’re male or female, you can be a good shooter.”
She credits the success of the team to the, “youth that have the desire to practice and achieve” and “the very dedicated, knowledgeable coaches, and great supportive parents.”
For more information on the Mill Cove Environmental Center, or to make a contribution to its ongoing capital campaign, visit www.millcovearea.org.
Author and freelance writer Audrey Patterson is an Environmental Education Specialist for DCNR.
Editor and author Matt Conner writes feature and cover stories for Mountain Home. He lives in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.
Teams from as far away as Washington state and Canada listen to opening remarks at Straughn Hall on the MU campus. Page 16: A YHEC competitor stops to visit with spectators. Friends and families attend the weeklong event from all over the U.S. and Canada.
ODY & S OUL
A Home for the Hounds
Keystone Greyhounds helps move dogs from race track to family room
By Dawn Bilder
Greyhounds are one of the fastest animals in the world, second only to the cheetah. They can reach a speed of forty miles per hour on their third step and accelerate to a maximum of forty-five miles per hour in their next few strides. At the same time, they don’t need a lot of activity, and their owners lovingly call them “couch potatoes.” They have no dog odor because their skin doesn’t hold oil as does that of most dogs, and they groom themselves like cats. Rarely do they shed or bark. And their pedigree can be traced back in an unbroken line for sixty-five generations to the late 1700s. Who wouldn’t want to adopt a greyhound?
Hal and Janet Lambert run the Sayre, Pennsylvania, satellite of Keystone Greyhounds, an adoption organization for former racing greyhounds. They have Gospel, whose racing name was Starr Gospel, adopted in 2006, and Dylan—racing name Askart—who they adopted in 2007. For the interview, they’re joined by their friends, who also adopted from Keystone Greyhounds, Tom Kennedy, proud owner of three greyhounds, and Melissa Soper, equally proud owner of one.
When the Lamberts began their search for a greyhound adoption organization, they realized there are over 350 in the United States. Twenty-seven years ago, there were no adoption organizations for former racing greyhounds. People would literally go from house to house, asking whoever answered, “Would you like a dog?”
personality, they make sure they are adopted to a family that matches them. They have found adoptions for more than 500 greyhounds since they started five years ago.
Soper recently adopted seven-year-old River, whose racing name was KC Running River. River was in thirty-eight races and then became a blood donor in Texas. Greyhounds’ blood is widely sought after because of its high oxygen and iron levels. Keystone Greyhounds drove to Texas and picked her up, and, after time with a foster family, she became Soper’s.
Keystone greyhounds
For more information on giving a greyhound a forever home, call Hal and Janet Lambert at 570-888-9999 or visit the Keystone Greyhounds website at www.keystonegreys.com.
The Lamberts chose to adopt through Keystone Greyhounds, run by Dianne Shadle. Keystone Greyhounds makes sure that all their dogs are spayed or neutered and have their shots and their teeth cleaned. They send each dog to a foster family to find out how they behave with other pets, particularly cats, and how they react to children. Once they understand each greyhound’s
A little-known fact about greyhounds: they love to wear hats. When River was adopted, she came with a nurse’s hat because Soper is a nurse. The Lamberts have bought countless hats from a lady in Chicago who makes them especially for dogs.
To demonstrate the greyhounds’ love of hats, Hal brings out a box full of them, and the six greyhounds who are present jump to their feet and wag their tails, happily anticipating wearing their hats. Soon they are wearing an Indian chief hat, a Christmas hat, a top hat with a large feather, a beanie hat that says “Think Spring,” and a Miss Muffet hat, complete with a sizable plastic spider on top. Soper says gaily, “Greyhounds are such hamballs,” and everyone present agrees.
Kennedy, whose friends laughingly say has failed “Foster Care 101” because he had three foster dogs in his care and adopted all three of them himself, explains that he couldn’t help it. “They’re just such great dogs.” But his friends grow serious and say, “He gave them what we call a ‘forever home,’” the goal of Keystone Greyhounds. It’s the place where greyhounds can stay for their long lifetimes, where they can live with love and laughter.
Janet and Hal Lambert with carousel greyhound Alec and real-life greyhound Dylan at Eldridge Park.
IThe Better World Restoration
John & Lynne Diamond-Nigh
t’s a warm spring morning in Florence, Italy. We are both in heaven. Our feet are floating, like the feet of Christ (in the Fra Angelico painting) when he enters Hell, takes Adam by the hand and leads him up to heaven.
We, and our twenty Elmira students, are being conducted through the State Institute of Art Restoration. It could be a lab at MIT. Restorers in white coats hover over paintings by Giotto, Bronzino, Vasari, and Rubens, toothpick-size brushes, styluses, Qtips in hand. Some look through microscopes as they work. Everywhere in this spic-and-span magical place is the curious blend of ancient tools side by side with lasers, scanners, vacuum tables, infrared cameras, robotical arms.
their backs like patients in a surgical ward as restorers toiled above them with the hovering precision of heart surgeons.
He explains. The lights go out again; he illustrates his point. He is kind, earnest, eager to take five minutes from his work if it means our students understand, just a little better, how exacting should be our stewardship of the beauties we inherit—artistic, literary, architectural, ethical.
We enter the woodworking shop, where a large painting, illegible under its bandages of rice paper, lies on a table. The lights are momentarily turned out, and a powerful beam of light rakes over the surface, revealing how much this painting (painted on wooden boards) has warped and buckled. It looks like a topographical map. How can this ruin, I ask in unbelief, ever be reclaimed? Such an effort would not even be made if the painting had not been painted by the great artist and biographer (of other artists) Giorgio Vasari.
The master woodworker steps forward, his plane still drooling a long spool of shavings. Think of him as the senior osteopath in the world’s greatest art hospital. We have already passed medieval wooden statues lying on
We stop at a Fra Angelico painting, a vast resplendentMadonnaand Child—just the biggest razzle-dazzle of pure gold I have ever seen. It stands there, freshly restored. Francesca, our guide, stops; her fine, precise, scientist voice mellows. Her eyes moisten. We have stepped beyond art and science into the precinct of something sacred, glowing with heavenly light. It is what she wants our students to grasp, that there are too few glories like this in the world. Those we have we must cherish now and through to the very end of time.
Encircling the prone Vasari, as we leave, stands a large television crew from Rome, hoping to witness the miracle of bringing the Vasari back to life, rising once more from that epoch when humanism, beauty, and civility were triplets being born into the brawling, anarchic world.
A Lazarus painting. We’ll see.
John writes about art and design at serialboxx. blogspot.com. Lynne’s website, aciviltongue. com, is dedicated to civility studies.
Madonna and Child between Saints Dominic and Catherine of Alexandria by Fra Angelico, circa 1435, tempera on wood. The original is at the Vatican Museum.
A RTS & L EISURE
Taking a Dip
Back-road creeks and cool forest pools make Pennsylvania prime swimming hole territory
Story By Nicole hagan
Photos By James Fitzpatrick
As you feel the dog days of summer trickling down the back of your neck, the perfect way to rejuvenate yourself from the lazy, hazy heat is to slap on some swim gear and make your way over to the local swimming hole. Without the hassle of membership fees or crowds, this summer-day getaway is a cheap and convenient alternative to the pool—and for those of us in the northern tier of Pennsylvania or the Finger Lakes Region of New York, there’s plenty of swimming holes to choose from.
In the Mansfield and Blackwell areas of Pennsylvania, three different locales top
the list: Big and Little Falls on Stony Fork Ceek and Pirate Rock near Blossburg.
Big and Little Falls, located about four miles downstream from the Stony Fork Campground, are two swimming spots that flow within 500 yards of one another and collectively boast a five-foot waterfall, consistently cool water temperatures, and an “endlessly deep” turquoise pool.
“Local myth has it that the water at Big Falls is bottomless,” says Chief DCNR Ranger Brian Caldwell. “We don’t have an exact measurement of its depths, but people always tell me how they try to touch the bottom, but without any luck.”
This swimming hole at Big Falls is deep enough to jump into from the canyon rocks that surround it, although officials warn that you should always test the depth of the water before attempting such feats. “Additionally, because the canyon is so steep, anyone with health problems should use precaution before attempting to climb down into it,” says Caldwell, “and they should always remember to wear protective footwear.”
Pirate Rock, named for a large formation that extends into the Tioga River and is a
See Swimming on page 30
Ryan Root and son, Levi, enjoying a dip in the waters of Stony Fork Creek.
Swimming continued from page 28
favorite place for sunbathing, is a large but shallow pool of crystal clear water. Although deep enough for swimming, diving isn’t recommended. “The water is nice because the bottom of the swimming hole is made up of big sheets of rock rather than gravel, so it’s always really clear,” says Caldwell. The surrounding land includes fire rings and open-space for tents, making it convenient for those who just want to swim for a few hours or set up camp for the entire weekend. To get to Pirate Rock, bear right onto Ogdensburg Road after passing through the main street in Blossburg. After traveling about 2.8 miles, there will be an unsigned dirt road on the left. Visitors should park along the dirt road, and then follow the trail back into the woods. Wade through the small stream and then walk for about five or ten minutes before reaching the large clearing on the left.
swimming hole safety Precautions
1. Wear protective footwear
2. Dress appropriately (Skinny dipping is not permitted)
3. Watch for rattlesnakes
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Moving up to the Finger Lakes Region of New York, Robert H. Treman State Park (Ithaca) and the Fillmore Glen State Park (Moravia) showcase two larger swimming holes that add accommodation to both affordability and natural charm. Robert H. Treman State Park includes twelve waterfalls on Enfield Creek, nine miles of hiking trails, areas for tents and RVs, and the 115-foot Lucifer Falls, where energetic hikers can climb to the top to see a mile and a half down Enfield Glen Gorge). But probably one of the biggest attractions is being able to swim in and under the seventy-foot Lower Falls that streams into the park’s dammed-off swimming hole. According to http://nyfalls.com, “there are three sections of different depths, changing rooms, diving platforms and the [life-guarded] swimming area can easily accommodate hundreds of swimmers.” Visitors must pay to park.
Heading about thirty minutes north to Moravia is Fillmore Glen State Park. This park along Dry Creek includes five waterfalls, a botanical rich glen, sixty campsites, fishing in the Owasco Lake inlet, and a stream-fed swimming hole. “There’s a deep end and shallow end, with the deep end being about seven feet deep,” says Park Manager Rick Banker. “It can fit about 150 people, but generally it’s not too crowded.” Lifeguards are on duty, making it a safe environment for the
4. Do not litter; take home whatever you bring
5. Do not put any soaps or cleaning products into the water
6. Use common sense before jumping into any body of water. Do not jump in without testing/ examining it first.
family, although due to its depth, diving is not permitted. Visitors must pay to park, and the swimming hole is located behind the main parking lot.
Finally, a happy medium between the seclusion of Little Falls and the amenities of Treman State Park is Ole Bull State Park south of Galeton, Pennsylvania. Created by a dam, this beach area has a serene ambiance, in addition to picnic tables and changing rooms for your convenience.
“Water here gets to be around six feet deep,” says Park Typist Dolly Lazorchak.
“Diving is not recommended, and there are no lifeguards on hand, so kids need to be supervised. But it’s a very peaceful environment and great for families.”
According to Lazorchak, there’s a special area for children twelve and under to go fishing near the swimming hole on the camping side of the park. To get to Ole Bull Beach, enter the park from the south entrance along state Route 144 and then walk over the bridge.
For more information on any of these swimming holes or to explore the state forests on your own, contact your local park officials.
Levi Root leaps into his father’s arms.
F OOD & D RINK
Finger Lakes Wine Review
Summertime Sipping
holly howell
If you are a fan of Italian wines and luscious desserts, then you may already know of a wine called Moscato d’Asti. This delicious sparkling wine is made from the Moscato grape in the town of Asti, which lies in the Piedmont region of northwestern Italy. It is the cousin of Asti Spumante, with just a touch less sweetness and a touch less effervescence. I love the beautiful fruit flavors of this wine, and I have been searching
out Moscato wines from Italy for years. So you can imagine my excitement when I came upon a stunning Moscato made right here in the Finger Lakes of New York State. Yes, it’s true. Villa Bellangelo (the name means “beautiful angel”) is a winery located on the western shores of Seneca Lake. Their motto is “handcrafted wines with an Italian flair,” and it couldn’t be more spot on. On a recent visit to the winery, I actually felt my Italian accent start to creep in. Their wines are, in a word, magnifico! From their Dry Rosé to their Americano Sangiovese, these wines can easily transport you to the Mediterranean. Other highlights include a crisp white Pinot Grigio, and an extremely food-friendly red Pinot Nero (aka Pinot Noir). But the biggest surprise of all is the Villa Bellangelo Finger Lakes 2009 Semi-Sparkling Moscato. Made from 100% Valvin Muscat grapes in the classic Italian “frizzante” method, this wine will give your taste buds the total WOW factor. Like the traditional Italian Moscatos, there are just enough bubbles to tickle your tongue. Front and forward are
rich flavors of lychee and tropical fruit, with heavenly hints of fresh flowers the finish. You can’t find a more refreshing summer quaff. It has garnered many medals, including a recent Gold at this year’s Finger Lakes International Wine Competition, and a Best of Class at the Golden Nose Awards. And believe me, this is one wine that has a habit of selling out fast. It has developed a very loyal following in a very short time. So act quickly!
The winery itself has one of the most spectacular views of Seneca Lake, and is well worth a visit. An don’t forget your camera. You can find more details on their website www.bellangelo.com.
In Italy, Moscato wines are often served with fresh fruit for dessert. I have always believed in following tradition. I serve the sweet Bellangelo Moscato well-chilled with all sorts of fresh-picked berries. It doesn’t hurt to put out a red checkered tablecloth and some biscotti either.
Villa Bellangelo Finger Lakes SemiSparkling Moscato ($17).
Holly is a CSW (Certified Specialist of Wine) through the Society of Wine Educators and a CS (Certified Sommelier) through the Master Court of Sommeliers in England; Contact her at wineanddine@mountainhomemag.com.
Front and forward are rich flavors of lychee and tropical fruit, with heavenly hints of fresh flowers the finish.
Read & Feed Breaking Bread With Beard
Cornelius O’Donnell
Iremember a descriptive line from my youth. When describing someone who was tall and, to put it mildly, oversized, we’d say “they loomed large in a doorway.” James Beard’s six-foot four-inch frame and ample girth qualified for that epithet; but most certainly he loomed large in the world of fine cuisine. His heyday spanned the years just after WWII right up to his death in 1985. He was called “the Dean of American Cookery.” I was privileged to call him a friend. I’d often end up peeling carrots or potatoes at his cooking demos for nonprofit organizations.
In press conferences Jim was usually asked a question about his “gourmet” cooking. He’d stare intently at the questioner and say something along these lines: “Gourmet is a magazine, I’m an advocate of “good cooking.” By that he meant using the best ingredients and combining them to make the dish delicious without being overly fussy to prepare. This seems to be the cook’s mantra today, but Jim was saying this way back when.
Jim Beard’s list of cookbooks is impressively long. I heartily recommend his biography written in mid-career and called Delights and Prejudices. You’ll read
all about his early years in Oregon and years spent trying to become an opera singer. In the late ’30s, the heyday of cocktail parties, he started Hors d’Oeuvre Inc., a catering firm in New York. Their superior offerings were highly praised, and you can find recipes for them in his first recipe book Hors d’Oeuvre and Canapés. He deplored the usual stuff—those little bits and pieces such as processed cheese bits on tired toast. In fact, he referred to these as “doots.”
Beard’s pioneering 1941 book, Cook it Outdoors, was followed in 1949 by his first big book, The Fireside Cookbook, reissued in 2008 by Simon and Schuster. It is charmingly illustrated, and many recipes are complete with variations making over 1,200 good things to cook. We have to fast-forward here because the man’s output of books, newspaper articles, and magazine features was prodigious. Let me mention two favorites. For bread bakers his Beard on Bread is a must have. And don’t miss The New James Beard, published by Knopf in 1981 as an updating of his 1959 The James Beard Cookbook
That’s the title of arguably Beard’s best book. It was published by Little Brown in 1972, and many food experts rank it as the
one of Beard’s Best hors d’oeuvres
Jim Beard became a spokesman for Corning smoothtop appliances circa 1972, and he was the celebrity guest at a large dinner held in Chicago for Corning’s nationwide chain of distributors. We picked the menu from his books and this, from American Cookery, is what we passed as an appetizer before dinner. It was a huge hit and simplicity itself:
Baked Potato hors d’oeuvre
Bake well-scrubbed Idaho or Maine potatoes. Cut the cooked potatoes in half and scoop out the inside of the skins thoroughly. (Save the insides for mashed potatoes.)
Cut the skins carefully into long strips about 1 to 1 1/2
inches wide. Brush them lavishly with softened butter. (Beard was a self-proclaimed “butter boy.”) Sprinkle with salt and freshly ground pepper. Place on a broiler pan and broil 6 or 7 inches from the broiling unit until browned and crisp. Watch carefully that they don’t burn. Serve hot. I can promise you’ll never have a better appetizer. However, don’t do what we did. We decided to serve the salad after the main course, the way it’s done in some fancy restaurants. You should have seen the look on the faces of the guests when the wait staff plunked down plates of watercress instead of the expected dessert! I ran and hid.
equivalent of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Its 850 pages contain far more than just recipes. This is a book for reading as well as cooking. Your American great-grandmother would be familiar with many of the dishes. The sketches of early cooking tools lend a special air.
The book is a marvel of research and scholarship. Just know if you are searching for a remembered “Mock Apple Pie” or “Watermelon Pickle,” you’ll find it here. Flipping through the pages is like a walk down a gastronomic memory lane. And it’s now in paperback.
I promise you will be fascinated and motivated to try many of these old standbys. Making these treasures with your kids or grandkids would give them a great lesson in American history.
Chef, teacher, and author Cornelius O’Donnell lives in Corning, New York.
James Beard (left) in the kitchen with Cornelius.
hOME & REAL ESTATE
Man of Steel
Welder Michael Patterson creates nature-based sculptures of stainless steel
Story By Matt Connor
Photos By Bill Crowell
In the tiny village of Oval, just outside Jersey Shore in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania, tucked in among rolling hills and cornfields, there is a modest ranch house where magic happens. Here lifeless sheets of stainless steel are turned into shimmering bluefish and herons, and weathervanes in the shapes of dolphins, sharks, chickens, and pigs.
It all happens in the cluttered workshop of Michael Patterson, who honed his welding skills for eleven years in Antartica, working on U.S. research bases, before he decided to try his hand at contemporary abstract sculpture generally rooted in nature.
“My mom and dad had been potters, and then they became juried potters with the Pennsylvania Guild of Craftsmen,”
Patterson says when asked about his origins as an artisan. “I used to go to the shows with them, and I’d help them set up and tear down and sell. Everybody seemed to be having a lot of fun, so I thought, ‘Hey, I want to do this, too.’
“I welded for years and years and years and years, and I was always good at drawing animals,” he continues. “So I started welding on the back porch here, and after a while I decided to get juried and start doing shows.
“The minute I started doing shows, I was always behind, and I’ve never caught up,” he says. “There are people who have been waiting for well over a year for stuff. Some things I crank right out, and other stuff just takes forever. So far it hasn’t seemed to bother anybody too much. But every day I get a little further behind. That’s the drawback.”
Patterson’s work is in demand across the country, where potential clients hear about him mostly through word-of-mouth recommendations. A feature in Horticulture magazine brought him a gaggle of new customers, including one in Connecticut who commissioned him to create his largest work to date.
“About a year and a half after Horticulture came out, this landscape architect called me and said he had a client in Connecticut,” Patterson says. “They had a problem in their garden. There was a huge stump, and they want the stump either gone or covered, and they’d like a large sculpture on top of it.
“So I made a couple of quick sketches, and the woman fell in love with one of the sketches. The whole idea that she liked was that I was covering up the stump in her garden with a tree
Patterson at his craft, which he honed by welding for U.S. research bases in Antartica for eleven years.
Someplace Like home
Old Pete
Dave Milano
Icalled him Old Pete because when we met, I was sixteen and he was fifty. I had just been hired at the local gas station, joining a small group of similarly green boys pumping gas, washing windshields, cleaning restrooms, and assuring that at the end of each day the pump dials agreed with the wads of cash in our pockets. Old Pete was the station’s “engine man,” meaning he was called in as needed for big work, like valve jobs and main seals and rebuilds. He became a friend on my very first workday, by adding five dollars to the till when the cash came up short. Joey, my older and more experienced partner that day, was unsurprised by the gesture, but I was stunned. Walking out together with Old Pete at the end of my shift, I asked him why he did it, and he told me, “Because I’m fifty, and you’re sixteen.”
From the moment you laid eyes on Old Pete, he was mesmerizing, for he was as big around as an apple barrel and not much taller. Packed onto an incongruously diminutive five-anda-half-foot frame was a lifetime of culinary overindulgence— French fries hung from his jowls, pizzas from his middle, countless pancakes, doughnuts, sodas, and chips from his legs and arms. In the shop his lunch pail was his constant companion, and it seemed a bottomless well. Sandwiches, cookies, bananas, pop-top cans, cheese curls, and candy bars would emerge from it like circus clowns from a phone booth. The near continuous eating annoyed Tony, the station’s explosive and unpredictable owner, whom we boys called Tony the Blade and feared like the devil. “Stuffing your face again when you should be working!” he would scream across the garage. Old Pete was unfazed. I guess he figured he earned his wages, and I guess Tony agreed.
It never occurred to me then that Old Pete suffered from his weight. He seemed really to suffer from nothing at all. He was completely happy in the shop and with everyone who worked there, including even Tony. Old Pete, in fact, seemed completely happy with all the world. He smiled continually, laughed often, and had nothing bad to say about anyone or anything. He surely didn’t know it, nor did I know it at the time, but Old Pete quickly became for me a model of happy manhood, something I would forever, if unconsciously, shoot for.
Then one day Old Pete didn’t show up for work. I figured no big deal; he probably just decided to dine at home that day. And when Tony, after an obviously awkward telephone call, told Joey and me that Old Pete was dead of a heart attack, we didn’t believe him. We didn’t, at least, until Tony turned around to
look at the pile of parts Old Pete had been working on, and muttered, “Look what that fat jerk left me with.” At that, Joey impulsively picked up a jelly doughnut from the office counter, held it for a few seconds like a pitcher taking his signal, then threw it, hard, hitting Tony square in the back of the neck. Joey immediately and wisely took off running, and as he ran flung his money wad into the air, an act which undoubtedly saved him from a good beating. I sullenly finished my shift, shuffled home, and never went back to the station, except in memory, to revisit both the best and worst of role models, and to ponder the good that came to me, unexpected and unbidden, from a gentle, benevolent fat man.
Dave Milano is a former suburbanite turned part-time Tioga County farmer. You can contact him at someplacelikehome@ mountainhomemag.com.
He surely didn’t know it, nor did I know it at the time, but Old Pete quickly became for me a model of happy manhood, something I would forever, if unconsciously, shoot for.
stump made of steel, and it fit like you wouldn’t believe.
“She made me a template out of newspaper—she cut out the exact shape of the stump—she made measurements all around the stump and she sent pictures. It fit like a glove and weighed 710 pounds. It was all three of us could do to get it out to the van. Then I drove it to Connecticut. It took three of us to install it.”
Much of his work, it must be said, is far more manageable, both in terms of size and budget. His signature piece is the Heron Head, a garden tool used for tilling and weeding that is shaped, Patterson says, “like a combination of a blue heron and a pterydactyl.”
Over 1,500 of the Heron Head garden tools have been sold so far, at a price of $48, a bread-and-butter item that more than helps pay the vendor fees at the large Guild of Craftsmen shows he does in Lancaster, Harrisburg, Manheim, and other points on the map.
“It doesn’t do me any good to make beautiful things by the truckload if I can’t turn them into financial gain,” he says. “When I first started doing this it was difficult to make something really neat and bring it to a show and then sell it. I’d think, ‘Oh, I’m never going to see it again.’ I got over that really quickly.
“Now I don’t mind because I can just make another one. Now I make killerlooking stuff and it’s like, ‘Get it out of here. I don’t wanna see it again.’ That
keeps me fed for the next show.
“I get all of these ideas and inspirations talking to customers and listening to their ideas. Then I come home and work toward the next show, and with each show it seems to build. The momentum gets stronger, and I have more of a desire to do it.
“After doing it for 15 years,” he concludes, “I now have a really good idea of the stuff people are interested in.”
Editor and author Matt Conner writes feature and cover stories for Mountain Home. He lives in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.
Top: Patterson in his cluttered, yet productive workshop. Bottom: Decorative heron’s head garden tool can be used for tilling and weeding.
Welding continued from page 36
Shop Around the Corner
Sky’s the Limit
Story By Angela Cannon-Crothers
Photography By James Fitzpatrick
Driving up Route 414 out of Watkins Glen alongside Seneca Lake on a warm, sunny day, I was in great spirits. The three little girls I brought along for a fantastical foray to the SkyLand Gallery and Dessert Café at SkyLand Farm were anxious to get to what I thought was a sort of petting zoo/store with gelato ice cream and gardens.
SkyLand turned out to be different than I anticipated.
Set beside the historic Hector House overlooking Seneca Lake, the creatively renovated barn and grounds of SkyLand Gallery and Dessert Café beckon visitors to stop in, enjoy the view, and explore. The expertise of traditional American crafts and fine arts within the gallery are a true experience.
“I’m an artist myself,” says Barbara Hummel, owner of the gallery, café, and fabulous historic home she rents out by the week. “I wanted to provide an art haven for other artists,” Hummel explains. “There’s so much talent around here, a lot more than just wine.” Although Hummel is a potter herself, the shop, which opened in 2001, keeps her too busy now to make her own creations to sell. SkyLand Gallery features the collective works of nearly 400 local and national artisans. Unique artwork ranging from pottery to blown and stained glass, from garden-sized sculpture to fine jewelry, and from homemade soaps to felt creations are beautifully displayed in a combination of folksy surroundings and upscale gallery rooms.
Where: 2966 State Rt. 414 Hector, NY. (7 miles north of Watkins Glen)
store hours: Summer—10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Wednesday through Sunday. September to December 19—10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Friday through Sunday. Historic Hector House rental by reservation. Contact: (607) 546-5050 or www.SkyLandfarm.net
SkyLand continued from page 42
“People can come in and take care of their entire gift list with one-of-a-kind items not found anywhere else,” says Hummel. “It’s the perfect place for wedding gifts, Christmas shopping, or for yourself. And our prices are reasonable.” So much of the art for sale includes functional, home-enhancing items but a wide variety of more whimsical pieces are available as well.
The entire building is artfully done—from the bathroom with its funky fish sink and inspirational, hand-painted quotes, to the Garden Dessert Café built around a two-story oak tree and comfortably arranged with wicker sofas, porch swings, and dragonfly benches with a spectacular view of Seneca Lake. Best of all, it’s a kid-friendly gallery that serves the finest quality gelato ice cream; it was well worth making the drive just to experience the burst of passion fruit, cocoa, key lime graham, and a few of the “gazillion other flavors,” Hummel says are on the list. “Our gelato is made by an Italian man in New York City,” adds Hummel. “It’s the real thing! Gelato gets its flavor from actual berries and pureed fruits.” My contingent of taste testers and I unanimously agreed the flavors were intense and totally delicious. Of course, other fine desserts are available.
Beside the gallery and café sits the historic, original Hector House built in 1790. Each of the six bedrooms has a view of the lake and the entire home is tastefully decorated with functional and display artwork from the gallery as well the old home’s original charm, kid-friendly nooks, and lofts. Next to the large walk-out kitchen is a private portico with grill, outdoor eating and seating area, a pet kennel, and peaceful waterfall pond. Hummel has kept the home updated with the help of friend John Laughlin. “It’s a great place to rent for family reunions, a retreat, or a romantic getaway,” says Hummel.
Everything I saw at SkyLand Farm reflected works of craftsmanship and beauty—from the art and craftwork for sale, to the structure of the gallery, the labyrinth and art gardens out front, and even the flavors that tickled my memory buds with a note to self to come back for more. SkyLand Gallery and Dessert Café is a place to linger and shop with the entire family. Best of all, it’s a place with both beauty and soul.
Angela Cannon-Crothers is a freelance writer and outdoor educator living in the Finger Lakes region of New York.
Top: Handcrafted brooms. Left: Owner Barbara Hummel wanted to create a haven for artists and their unique work. Above: Detail of a sunlit glass disk by a Canadian artist. Below: Butterfly garden sculpture. Page 42 Background: SkyLand Gallery and Dessert Café has given new life to renovated farm buildings. Page 42 Inset:
Sofield’s thirty-two-year-old widow, Helen, now without her husband and devastated by grief, pondered what unfair fate had destroyed her loving reunion with her husband.
Her cousin sent her a letter in hopes of helping her with her anguish. “Although you have been bereaved of a husband,” she wrote, “and your parents have long since been taken away, and we may utterly fail to see any Providence in these things, yet we are led more fully to realize the truth that there is a high power where we hope to gather strength, and to more fully trust in God.”
Helen was unable to rally. Not emotionally capable of taking care of all three of her boys, she had the two younger ones put into an orphanage. Finances also played a part in her decision and hardship. She had trouble collecting her husband’s twenty-dollar a month pension because her two youngest sons were born at home, and they didn’t have birth certificates. The doctor who had delivered them, who could have verified their existence, died before he could do so. It took Helen ten years to track down, from across the country, the midwife who helped the doctor deliver her sons. Only then was she able to take her sons out of the orphanage.
Sofield and the Bucktails’ sacrifices—and those of their families—brought our country back together. In words that are as true now as they were during the Civil War, Colonel Edward A. Irvin of the Bucktails wrote, “From these rugged regions came the men who preserved the nation, for liberty loves to linger in the mountains and patriotism hangs upon her hills.”
Sofield is now buried in the Gettysburg National Cemetery—Pennsylvania Plot, Section B, Grave 1. His grave marker is a thin, elongated stone, which he shares with another soldier and is partly hidden by the shadows of surrounding grass. With sad symbolism of his forgotten fate, the marker doesn’t even bear his date of birth.
Top: Sketch from Frank Leslie’s book The Soldier in Our Civil War depicts the Bucktails’ battle in 1861 near Harrisonburg, Virginia, against a detachment led by Stonewall Jackson. Above: Recruitment in Pennsylvania was widespread and posted throughout the Keystone state’s various counties. Right: Captain Alfred Sofield.
Jim Obleski is a writer, artist, and Potter County Civil War historian.
Bucktails continued from page 13
B ACK OF T h E M OUNTAIN
Night Lights
Riverfest on the Susquehanna River, Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.
