June PineStraw 2011 by PineStraw Magazine

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June 2011

Features

60 Sons and Brothers

64 In Gourd We Trust

68 Maxwell Struthers Burt

70 Sandhills Photography Club

72 Story of a House: Cottage Industry

Four talented friends make their final, beautiful music together.

Volume 6, No. 6 Departments

7 10 17 19 23 27 29 31 35 37 41 43 45 49 51 55 88 97 107

Denise Baker’s design students at SCC transform gourds into — well — you decide. (We love ’em.)

Sweet Tea Chronicles Jim Dodson PinePitch Cos and Effect Cos Barnes The Omnivorous Reader Stephen E. Smith Bookshelf PineBuzz Jack Dodson Hitting Home Dale Nixon The Evolving Species Sean Smith Vine Wisdom Robyn James The Kitchen Garden Jan Leitschuh Spirits Frank Daniels III Birdwatch Susan Campbell The Pleasures of Life Claudia Watson Parenthood, Etc. Sue Pace The Sporting Life Tom Bryant Golftown Journal Lee Pace Calendar SandhillSeen Thoughts from the Man Shed Geoff Cutler 109 The Accidental Astrologer

John H. Wilson

Long forgotten, this brilliant writer and friend of James Boyd is woven into Weymouth lore. Lovely faces tell the tale.

Ashley Wahl

Deborah Salomon

Designer Julie Sanford creates nautical magic at home.

84 The Garden Path: Dandelions and

Scrub Oaks

Robert Hayter

Our intrepid landscape expert talks straight about the Sandhills garden.

Astrid Stellanova

111 PineNeedler Mart Dickerson

112 SouthWords Laurie Birdsong

Cover photograph by Tim Sayer 2

June 2011 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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PineStraw M A G A Z I N E Jim Dodson, Editor

910.693.2506 • jim@pinestrawmag.com

Andie Stuart Rose, Creative Director 910.693.2467 • andie@pinestrawmag.com

Kathryn Galloway, Graphic Designer Ashley Wahl, Editorial Assistant EDITORIAL

Deborah Salomon, Staff Writer Noah Salt, Staff Writer Stephen E. Smith, Staff Writer Sara King, Proofreader Mary Novitsky, Proofreader PHOTOGRAPHERS

Cassie Butler Glenn Dickerson Tim Sayer Hannah Sharpe

CONTRIBUTORS

Cos Barnes, Laurie Birdsong, Tom Bryant, Susan Campbell, Geoff Cutler, Frank Daniels III, Mart Dickerson, Jack Dodson, Robert Hayter, Robyn James, Pamela Powers January, Jan Leitschuh, Dale Nixon, Lee Pace, Sue Pace, Jeanne Paine, Lisa Sauder, Sean Smith, Astrid Stellanova, Angie Tally, Claudia Watson, John H. Wilson

David Woronoff, Publisher ADVERTISING SALES

Ginny Kelly, 910.693.2481 • ginnykelly@thepilot.com Terry Hartsell, 910.693.2513 Marty Hefner, 910.693.2508 Peggy Marsh, 910.693.2516 Darlene McNeil-Smith, 910.693.2519 Johnsie Tipton, 910.693.2515 Karen Triplett, 910.693.2510 Perry Loﬂin, 910.693.2514 Pat Taylor, Advertising Director 910.693.2505 • pat@thepilot.com ADVERTISING GRAPHIC DESIGN advertise@thepilot.com

Kathryn Galloway, B.J. Hill Mechelle Wood, Scott Yancey, Kristen Clark Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488 • dstark@thepilot.com PineStraw Magazine 910.693.2467 173 W. Pennsylvania Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387 pinestraw@thepilot.com • www.pinestrawmag.com ©Copyright 2011. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. PineStraw magazine is published by The Pilot LLC

June 2011 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

David I. Klumpar, MD

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sweet tea chronicles

Paris and Peonies By Jim Dodson

It rained hard that morning, I remember, a tropical down-

pour, then the sun came out and everything felt like a steam bath. My mother’s peony garden was still in bloom the day I graduated from high school forty years ago this June; she cut one and left it by my cereal bowl, a perfect pale yellow, still wet with dew, along with a note and an elegant cream box.

Inside was a French fountain pen with a gold nib. “Congratulations to our writer!” she wrote. That afternoon, wearing just gym shorts and a pair of flip-flops beneath my silky blue graduation robe, I decided I was the soul of Bohemian wit. In truth, I couldn’t wait to collect my sheepskin and head for the horizon. Or, more to the point, France. My sights were on the Left Bank of Paris, a place I’d never visited but knew all about. I had money saved from the guitar lessons I gave over the winter and a master plan worked out in my head. I’d fly there and stay with a friend of a friend who was attending the Sorbonne until I could find a cheap flat of my own. With a little luck, despite my appallingly bad French, I’d find a job as a stringer at the Herald-Tribune and meet fascinating people who would change my life. I’d probably take up with a dark-eyed beauty with underarm hair, who loved Gide and Gauloises. Oh, sweet redneck youth. But please understand I was under the spell of a famous American romantic. I’d read A Moveable Feast at least five or six times, memorized whole passages, even committed a street map of the Left Bank almost to memory. Somehow, perhaps because I’d been the wire-room boy at my hometown newspaper and won a high school short story contest, I’d gotten it in my head that I needed to do what young Ernest Hemingway did — take off for a year or two of Bohemian seasoning in the City of Lights. My dad understood this, though the plan initially came as a big surprise to him. Just weeks before that June graduation, as we were having lunch at his favorite spot near his office in Greensboro, I revealed the glorious plan to him in detail, and explained why I’d delayed applying to the colleges we’d discussed in favor of going abroad for a while first. To his credit, he kept his composure and listened to my big plan. He even smiled tolerantly. “I’ve been where you are,” he said at last, “and I know the restless pull you’re feeling. Every young fellow feels it in some way or another, a desire to shake the dust of this town from your feet, to see what’s over the horizon. We come from a race of travelers. But a smart man always has a back-up plan, son. Here’s what I’d like you to do as a favor to us all — just so your mom doesn’t have a coronary when she learns about this.” He pointed out that Richard Nixon had just instituted a new lottery for the draft. A Harris poll showed that spring that sixty percent of Americans were opposed to the war in Vietnam. But under the new lottery system, I was legally obliged to have my number assigned that autumn, and could easily wind up being drafted if I didn’t have a legit college deferment. “So if you don’t mind, over the next few days,” he calmly said, “I’d like you to apply to half a dozen schools and let’s see if one will still take you. Humor PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

June 2011

The Ryder Cup Lounge D r i n k I n Th e G a me

estled in the historic Carolina Hotel lies one

of the area’s most distinctive eateries. The Ryder Cup features a huge selection of draft beers, scotch and bourbon as well as the hearty, mouth-watering American fare you crave after a long round.

�

Me n u Fe a t u r e s beef sliders

• Southern

mac’n cheese

• Deconstructed • BBQ

nachos

pork two ways

• Sweet

potato fries

Dr i n k Fe a t u r e s • Wines • Eight

from the TOUR

Bob Redding Friday & Saturday nights

Sunday brunch

beers on tap

• Twenty

bottled beers

• Specialty • Premium

martinis scotch and bourbon

The Carolina Hotel • Village of Pinehurst, North Carolina • 910.235.8415 • pinehurst.com

• Kobe

Li v e Mu s i c

sweet tea chronicles

your old man, please. Life has a way of changing all our big plans.” I agreed to do this, of course, never thinking for a moment I’d wind up in school while Paris still beckoned. I dutifully sent out applications to six or seven colleges; four or five of which placed me on a delayed admission plan, one or two of which never bothered to reply. On a lark, I went with a friend down to see East Carolina one beautiful late-May day and put in an application for the heck of it. On the lawn of the Kappa Alpha house there was a spring beer party going on. I’d never seen so many pretty girls in one place. Why did I not end up taking off for Paris? Oddly enough, the details now escape me. On the steamy day I graduated from high school, after all, I broke up with my girlfriend while we sat in my Camaro outside my friend Bill’s house where a huge graduation party was going on. I explained to her I that I needed to go away and write, to experience things, to see what was happening in the world. I probably showed her my fancy new French pen. “Can’t you just go to Emerald Isle and be just as happy?” she asked. Days later the newspaper called and I agreed to work the wire room for one more summer, telling myself I’d save more money and get ready for France in the fall. But then East Carolina sent me a letter saying I’d be welcome to come there. My mom sent in the tuition and one hot, still August day I said goodbye to my parents from the steps of Aycock dormitory holding a window fan, a suitcase, my guitar, and fifty bucks in mad money. “Can’t believe you’re a college boy,” my mother said, giving me a big kiss. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it, either. But as I told the trustees of the school thirty years later when they made me a distinguished alum, becoming an “accidental pirate” was probably the nicest thing that ever happened to me. I made dear friends I keep to this day, had a blast writing for and editing the school paper, learned to love classical mythology and discovered life has a way of giving us what we really need. Apples don’t fall far from the trees, of course. Three Junes ago, my son Jack

graduated high school in Maine and told me he really wanted to delay attending college for a while and perhaps go off to Paris, to read and think and write and generally figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Ernest Hemingway, Act Two. This time there was no draft to contend with, but his mom and I showed a unified front on the matter, asking that he simply follow his big sister to college and get some kind of degree out of the way first. To her relief — and I suppose mine as well — he agreed to do so, but went off on his own to knock around Scotland and Iceland a bit. He’s clearly got our clan’s traveler’s blood. This June he’s back home in Maine working a variety of jobs and finishing up a documentary film on the rain forests of Sri Lanka, having what I hope will be a great final summer at home with his pals and his mom’s home cooking. Last month, his big sister graduated with honors from the University of Vermont. I gave her an engraved French fountain pen. She’s working this summer as a food and wine intern at a famous New England inn. She seems to be well on her way over the horizon. June is a glorious month way up north. My peony garden was always at peak then, producing creamy blooms that could dizzy you with their fragrance. Maybe that’s why my parents chose to get married in June seventy years ago this year, and why my wife Wendy and I did the same on their sixtieth anniversary a decade ago. A short time later, we went off to wander around Paris and knock around France. We’ve been there several times since. In a few weeks, the third of our brood graduates high school in New York. He’ll be in Southern Pines for the summer before going off to college in Rochester. In a sense, it’s all come and gone so quickly. But as I plan to say to others at my fortieth high school reunion when we gather later this summer, I wouldn’t change one thing about it. Life’s back-up plans have a way of working out just beautifully. PS

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World Class Fishing, Shooting, Hunting, and Falconry 30 Minutes From Pinehurst. Call Us at 910.462.2324.

kingfishersociety.com PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

June 2011

Once Upon a Time

Cocoa Buffs

Children’s Story Time happens every Wednesday at 1:30 p.m. at Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Mommies take turns reading, arts and crafts follow. Information: (910) 295-6022.

A Berry Good Cause

The Kiwanis Club of the Sandhills is sponsoring a blueberry fundraising campaign in an effort to raise money to support the major charitable activities for children that the Club undertakes each year. Flats of 12 one-pint boxes (10 lbs. of berries) will be sold for $30 by pre-order only. The last day to order is June 19, so call now to place an order. Pick-up will be Saturday, June 25, at Aberdeen Lake Park. To order: (910) 295-7500 or (910) 235-0271.

Saying Sorrie

On the evening of June 16, Bruce Sorrie, a botanist for the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, will spill the dirt on his newest book, A Field Guide to Wildflowers of the Sandhills Region. Sorrie’s book is the first-ever field guide to focus on the diverse flora of our region, encompassing over 600 wildflowers, flowering shrubs and vines found in North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia. Come get a whiff at 7 p.m. at The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz. Author events at The Country Bookshop this month also include: June 1 – Jill Connett @ 6:30 p.m. The author of The Green Plate presents Camouflage Prayers: Remembrance and Insight for Unseen Needs. June 7 – Rye Barcott @ 7 p.m. UNC graduate Rye Barcott presents his memoir, It Happened On the Way to War. June 9 – Lee Smith @ 4 p.m. NC Literary Hall of Famer Lee Smith presents her latest collection of stories, Mrs. Darcy and the Blue-Eyed Stranger. June 14 – Ellyn Bache @ 7 p.m. Bache shares her novel, The Art of Saying Goodbye.

During the month of June, the Southern Pines Public Library presents “Novel Destinations,” a summer reading program for adults featuring Chocolat by Joanne Harris. After reading the novel, available for checkout at the library through June, Chocolat lovers will be invited back for a delicious book discussion (and chocolate tasting) in July, and a free screening of the movie (starring Juliette Binoche, Johnny Depp and Judi Dench) in August. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

Timeless Beauties

The Arc of Moore County, an organization that provides support and services to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities and their families, is rolling out the red carpet at the Pinehurst Member’s Club on Saturday, June 18, for Mom Prom: An Evening With the Stars. Mom or not, ladies of all walks of life are invited, encouraged to wear old or vintage prom dresses and, of course, dance the night away for a good cause. (As if Ladies Night needed justification…) Highlights include the crowning of a Prom Queen and a chance to mingle and dance with local celebrity heroes. Evening begins at 6:30 p.m. Cost: $35 (includes heavy hors d’oeuvres, drink and door prize ticket). Tickets, information and sponsorship opportunities: (910) 6928272 or www.thearcofmoore.org.

Boot (Scootin’ Boogie) Cut

The barn doors open at 6:30 p.m. for the annual Blue Jean Ball to be held at the Pinehurst Fair Barn on June 4, featuring live (country) music from the Cowboys and the Sand Band, down- home barbecue buffet and refreshments. Festivities last through 11 p.m. Proceeds benefit cancer patients of the Clara McLean Hospitality House at FirstHealth to open this year. Tickets: $60. Information and reservations: (910) 695-7510.

Funhouse MIRA

Because Whitworth It

A daughter of South Carolina’s low country, smoky-voiced songsmith Shannon Whitworth will grace the Sunrise Greenspace from 5 to 8:30 p.m. on June 3 as part of First Friday festivities. Likened to singers such as Patsy Cline and Billie Holiday, Whitworth’s a multi-instrumentalist act you won’t want to miss. Bring lawn chairs and blankets, kids and pets. Local micro-brewed beers, wine and concessions at the Sunrise Theater, Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: www. firstfridaysouthernpines.com.

Lawn Crew

The Sandhills Community College Jazz Band’s Summer 2011 Concert Series continues on June 13 at 6:30 p.m. on the lawn of SCC. In the event of rain, concert moves to Owens Auditorium. Free and open to the public. Lawn chairs and picnics welcome; BBQ by Jordon’s available at 5 p.m. at $7/plate. Information: (910) 692-7966.

Simply Gourdgeous

The Students of Sandhills Community College’s 3-D Design Class have gone green. In harmony with their semester-long theme of working with recycled or organic materials, gourds from an Amish farm in Pennsylvania were carved, sanded, glazed and transformed into “gourdgeous” art. Necklaces by T.J. Chavis are on display and for sale in the SCC Boyd Library through July 26. Information: (910) 695-3879.

“The Return of the Southern Hooties” features eleven dudes (dressed as broads) performing song, dance and monologues on June 4 at 6:30 p.m. to benefit the MIRA Foundation. Think Tootsie meets Mrs. Doubtfire on Broadway. Cocktails and silent auction precede the show. Tickets: $15 (general admission); $50 - $100 (VIP seating). The Elks Club, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 944-7757.

Flowery Language

On Saturday, June 4, from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., Weymouth Center presents the 8th annual Weymouth Garden Tour, featuring six gardens in the Country Club of North Carolina. Map and program book included; luncheon and presentation by a local landscape architect optional. Information and reservations: (910) 692-6261 or www.weymouthcenter.org.

Fruit of the Bloom

On June 30, catch the National Theater Live in HD production of Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard on the big screen at the Sunrise Theater, 2 p.m. Zoe Wanamaker will play Madame Ranevskaya. Cost: $20. Tickets and information: (910) 692-3611 or www. sunrisetheater.com.

Sing of the Roost

Deemed one of the most significant roots musicians of this decade, Bill Sheffield — and his acoustic guitar — will “wrestle with earthly pleasure and the need for redemption” on June 5 at 6:45 p.m. on the stage of Poplar Knight Spot. Tampa Blue, whose bluesy, folksy music is influenced by the spirituals he heard growing up in Birmingham, Alabama, is the perfect prelude. Straight out of Asheville, David Earl and the Plowshares define folk rock; the Ladies’ Gun Club, an LA band with Southern Roots, features the stunning Appalachian voices of Sally Jaye and Sarah Roberts on June 12, 6:45 p.m. On June 19, the Chatham County Line, a bluegrass sensation that sells out shows in the U.S. and abroad, will take the stage. Opening act: The Johnny Folsom Trio pay tribute to Mr. Cash at 6:45 p.m. Celtic recording band Tiller’s Folly and Brooklynbased American band Yarn will lay it down on June 26, 6:45 p.m. Location: The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets and Information: (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

June 2011 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Mac Caddy

Tiny Dancers

Throughout the month of June, the Carolina Performing Arts Center (CPAC) of Southern Pines will host Imaginarium, a series of workshops for children ages 3 to 10 to explore dance, music and art through age-appropriate activities designed to harness creativity and stimulate artistic process. No previous dancing experience necessary. Ages 3 to 5 welcome June 13 - 17; ages 5 to 7 welcome June 20 - 24; ages 8 - 10 welcome June 27 - July 1. Cost: $175 per week. CPAC is also offering a Tap Master Class for ages 11 and up from June 20 - 24. Cost: $240. Information and registration: (910) 695-7898 or cpac.webimaginarium.com.

Painting Realistic Animals with Yvonne Sovereign July 6st & 7th 1- 4 pm - $50 non member

Toby Mac — one of the most successful artists in the Christian music scene — spent childhood summers at the historic Pine Needles Lodge & Golf Club in Southern Pines. This month, he’s coming back to Pine Needles to host the 32nd annual FCA Junior Golf Camp “to honor my mother,” says Bonnie McGowan of living golf legend Peggy Kirk Bell. From June 19 to 23, top coaches, celebrities and professionals will volunteer their time to provide expert teaching to campers of all levels — beginners to advanced — to help them reach their highest potential in athletics, spiritual growth, leadership, relational skills and the values of hard work and persistence on the site of the inaugural FCA Junior Golf Camp held in 1979. “We get kids from all walks of life, and kids who have never held a golf club before,” says McGowan. “I’ve seen camp change their lives.” “They get to learn the great game of golf and get to know the Lord,” says Bell. On the evening of June 22, Pine Needles will host “Unplugged with Toby Mac,” a benefit concert to raise money for camp scholarships so that all children who wish to attend FCA Golf Camp have equal opportunity. Dinner starts at 5:30 p.m., concert follows. Camp: $995; Dinner/Concert: $70 Information and reservations:: (886) 526-4653.

Fiber Collage: Adding Depth and Texture with Textiles and Fibers with Nanette Zeller July 23rd 9:30- 4:30 - /$50 non member

Watercolor on Rice Paper with Ann Campbell July 11th & 12th 1- 4 pm - $50/non member

Mud, Cauliﬂower and Edging – Watercolor with Emma Shurnick July 9th 10 – 4pm - $50/non-members

Landscape: Water based Oils/ Acrylics with Andrea Schmidt July 18th 9- 4 pm - $50/non member

Journaling: Sketching w/Permanent Pen & Watercolors or Watercolor Pencils - with Betty Hendrix July 27th , 10- 4 pm - $45/non member

Fall Workshop Concept Development How To Create Unique and Meaningful Art With Katharine A. Cartwright September 26-30, 2011 9:30 – 4:30 p.m.

Enhanced Monoprint - with Sandy Stratil

$495 Non-Members

August 1st 10- 4 pm - $50/non member

Member Discounts Available

Draw it – with Sandra Kinnunen August 2nd & 3rd 9 – 12pm $50/non member

Less Is More - with June Rollins For experienced watercolorists who want to loosen up Aug. 26st, 9- 4 pm -$50 non member

Exploring Alcohol Inks with Karen Walker August 30th 9- 4 pm - $50 non member

June Gallery Opening

Art” “Absolutely hib it Judged Ex

Opening Reception: Sunday, June 5th 5:00 p.m. – 7:00 p.m., Awards presentation 5:30 p.m. Exhibit open from June 5 through July 2 Hours: Monday – Saturday, noon – 3:00 p.m.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

Youth Summer Programs

Perfect Form

T Barny’s contemporary abstract sculpture will be on display through June at the Broadhurst Gallery in Pinehurst. Stone, steel, bronze, wood, water or ice — the medium may change, but the results? Always stunning. Information: www.broadhurstgallery.com.

Who Done It?

The Campbell House Galleries presents an opening reception for Art Anonymous Revealed on June 3 from 6 to 8 p.m., featuring artwork juried by Greensborobased artist William Mangum; artwork by 24 artists selected from last year’s Art Anonymous fundraiser. Exhibit runs through June. Information and schedule: (910) 692-2787 or www. mooreart.org.

Retire

Blount Humor

Author, playwright, raconteur, and aspiring musician Roy Blount Jr. will speak at 7:30 p.m. on Friday, June 3, at Southern Pines Elementary School Auditorium on Massachusetts Ave. Admission is $10 and seating is on a first-come-first-serve basis. Blount has been called “the most literate humorist in America.” He is a panelist on public radio’s Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, where he offers wordplay, witticism, curmudgeonry, and the occasional anecdote. He is the author of twenty-two books, about everything from the first woman president of the United States to what barnyard animals are thinking. His one-man show at the American Place Theatre was described by The New Yorker as “the most humorous and engaging fifty minutes in town.” His recent books include Hail, Hail Euphoria: Presenting the Marx Brothers in Duck Soup, Alphabet Juice and the sequel Alphabetter Juice: The Joy of Text. Blount’s visit is sponsored by the Weymouth Center for the Arts and Humanities in conjunction with The Country Bookshop. Information: (910) 6926261 or (910) 692-3211

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Someone To Teach Them

BY COS BARNES

on a cold and dismal sunday afternoon, i was feeling sorry for myself. i have no family nearby, and i was lonely. as i jarred myself away from my pity party, i mused, “What if i couldn’t read?”

as my pal dennis the menace said in a recent cartoon, “Reading is fun. it gives you some place to go when you can’t go anywhere.” during our recent Palustris festival, one of the most moving performances i saw was the Uncovering and celebrating Lost Black history presentation about george moses horton. The first black man to publish a book in the south, his autobiography speaks of his struggle to teach himself to read. a poet, and a slave, he tells of using his free time on sunday afternoons “to stammer over the dim and promiscuous syllables in his old black and tattered spelling book.” he had no one to teach him to read. i have always marveled at my mother’s recounting of her mischievous brothers who frequently skipped school or were required by their father to miss sessions at their one-room schoolhouse to help with the farming. i was always surprised at their ingenuity and ability at their jobs in later life. But i remembered my grandmother always read her Bible, and i’m confident she saw to it that her sons mastered the skill of reading, too. They had someone to teach them. When i became a fifth-grade schoolteacher in the mid-1950s, the big puzzle facing educators was “why Johnny can’t read.” i divided my class into reading groups and conscientiously taught my charges phonics and other reading skills every day. Those baby boomers had someone to teach them. i also remember the most pleasant part of the day being after recess when i would read to them. They were so attentive to “The adventures of huckleberry finn.” how i would like to know what they think of the new version. i know they can read it. They had someone to teach them. i loved reading to my children, although i remember the weariness after a long day of mothering. my son was a member of the reading police, and when i tried to skip a page or two, he always called me to task. i remember the thrill i enjoyed when my three learned to read after my years of reading to them. That joy was surpassed only by listening to my grandchildren when they read along with me “sam i am.” They loved the Uncle Remus tales, dr. seuss, and all the wonderful tales of long ago. They, like me, had someone to teach them not only how to read but to love reading. a young friend told me recently he reads to his son every time he goes down for a nap or bedtime. Then they make up stories about what they read. “you are writing these stories down, aren’t you?” i wondered. now there are the magical e-books. if you don’t know about them, ask your librarian. They know everything. someone taught them. PS Cos Barnes, we’re thrilled to say, lives and writes in Southern Pines. She is a longtime contributor to PineStraw magazine. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

The oMNIVoRoUS ReADeR

The Short list

The literature that deﬁ nes who we are

BY STEPHEN E. SMITH

“The mess boys ate the strawberries .” That’s what a friend said to me after a public meeting where some poor soul had gone on an hourlong paranoid rant.

“What do you think about that?” i’d asked my friend, and that’s when he offered the mess boys/ strawberries allusion. having seen humphrey Bogart in The Caine Mutiny, i knew exactly what he was talking about. Being an american implies more than an accident of birth; it supposes a degree of knowledge, a competency, albeit none too esoteric, gathered from shared experience. Thomas c. foster’s Twenty-Five Books that Shaped America: How White Whales, Green Lights, and Restless Spirits Forged Our National Identity is one of those literary compilations intended, in part, to shortcut the learning process. When the 20th century flipped, we were besieged with such lists — best movies, best novels, best popular songs, etc. But those lists were like the books in gatsby’s library, collections compiled by sampling popular opinion while offering no substantive criteria for the selections. foster excels at offering, in chatty, mildly humorous prose, the basis for his choice of particular novels as representative of the american psyche. foster certainly has the credentials. he’s published two previous books of this ilk — How to Read Literature Like a Professor and How to Read Novels Like a Professor — that examine our literary canon, and he is, indeed, a professor at the University of michigan, where he teaches courses in modern and classic fiction, drama, and poetry. and i’ll wager he’s a great teacher. he excels in offering offhand, casual explanations as to why these twenty-five books are essential to understanding our national character — explanations that will appeal to college kids who are focused on drinking inordinate amounts of beer and pursuing the opposite sex — or, perhaps, the same sex. Take, for example, foster’s explanation for disliking The Scarlet Letter: “What’s that you say? i’m the writer and get to decide who’s in and who’s out of my book?

negative on that one, friends. some decisions are bigger than an individual — the vote was taken before i ever came along, and it keeps getting taken, and it keeps coming out the same way. maybe i first read the book at the wrong time in my life. maybe its rhythms aren’t mine. maybe i just don’t like Puritans” — borrowing marianne moore’s disarming first line in her poem ‘Poetry’: ‘i, too, dislike it.’ ergo, i’m one of you, so you’d better listen up.” suffice it to say that when it comes to foster’s selection of the twenty-five novels that shaped america, you’ll find most of the usual suspects listed in chronological order — The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, The Last of the Mohicans, Mohicans Walden, Leaves of Grass, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Moby-Dick, The Great Gatsby, The Sun Also Rises, The Grapes of Wrath, Go Down, Moses (i would have chosen Absalom, Absalom), On the Road, To Kill a Mockingbird, and other obvious volumes. U.S.A., The Maltese Falcon, and the postmodern Their Eyes Were Watching God, The Crying of Lot 49, and Love Medicine may be surprising choices, but what self-respecting academic could avoid the temptation to include a touch of the controversial. so here’s where foster’s book is useful: first, if you’re one of those dunderheads who’s never read a great american novel and you’re likely to find yourself in pedantic company who will judge you on your knowledge of americana, grab a copy of foster’s book and give it a careful read. it will stand you in good stead. second, if you’re a high school or college student who sorely needs a leg up on this literary stuff, foster is your boy — indeed, the chapters are probably drawn from his classroom lectures — and you’ll find his writing entertaining as well as informative. i dare say that if you link Twenty-Five Books… with your monarch or cliff notes, you’ll have pretty fair knowledge of the subject matter, although you might as well plow through the novels — it doesn’t require any greater effort to read the real thing — and you’ll surely do just as well come exam time, and you’ll have the advantage of having formed your own opinions. if you’re reasonably well-read, you’ll find that foster’s analyses will open a few mildly interesting insights into your favorite novels, such as this revelation concerning possible pinko interpretations of steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath: “What right-wing objectors to the novel could never understand was that the works to which the novelist adhered were not The Communist Manifesto or Das Kapital,

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The oMNIVoRoUS ReADeR

not some european documents of class warfare, but four gospels and three american sacred texts: the constitution, the declaration of independence, and the gettysburg address.” a word of caution: foster’s chapter titles are mostly silly puns: “i’ve Been Workin’ on the Whale-Road” for Moby-Dick, “girls gone mild” for Little Women, etc., so be prepared to grit your teeth and bear it. as long as you’re reading foster’s Twenty-Five Books…, you might want to pick up Victor e. ferrall’s Liberal Arts at the Brink, which, as the title implies, is about the national movement toward vocational/ occupational training and away from the liberal arts, which now comprises only two percent of college and university enrollees. Like foster, ferrall, who is the former president of Beloit college, a liberal arts school of some distinction, writes in a witty, informal style, and his well-researched and thoroughly reasoned views are worth considering in a culture where Robert frost’s poetry would be more appreciated if it could repair a

flat tire or identify a heretofore undiscovered source of renewable energy. fears regarding the disappearance of liberal education are nothing new — there’s a palpable strain of anti-intellectualism in things american — but he supplies fresh insights and a thesis that ought to be of interest to most americans: “…liberal arts colleges are at risk—the poor colleges, of slipping away into vocational instruction and disappearing altogether; the rich colleges, of becoming irrelevant.” in our rush to a new prosperity, are we becoming a nation of meat robots and computer nerds? as ferrall puts it: “Just because you are paranoid doesn’t mean no one is following you.” PS Stephen Smith’s most recent book of poetry, a short Report on the fire at Woolworths,” is available at The Country Bookshop. Contact him at travisses@hotmail.com. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

Bookshelf

New Releases For June FICTION-PAPERBACK The Lonely Polygamist by Brady Udall. Golden Richards is having “…the mother of all midlife crises” in a tale that offers insight into the polygamist culture and what it means to be a family. The Art of Saying Goodbye by Ellyn Bache. The story of five friends who learn to see their lives in a new light when their fearless leader, Iona, falls ill with cancer. Mrs. Darcy and the Blue-Eyed Stranger by Lee Smith. A collection of short stories that capture the defining moments of our lives and demonstrate how we all come to know ourselves over time. Room by Emma Donoghue. Held captive for five years, a mother manages to create a normal life for her son while confined to an 11x11 room. Don’t let the subject scare. Told in the voice of her son, this is a book you won’t be able to put down. Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes. An evocative Vietnam War book that follows Lt. Waino Mellas and the men of the Bravo Company and exposes the “…fears they bury, the friends they lose, and the men they follow.” Fiction - Hardback The Snowman by Jo Nesbo. A little boy awakes to find his mother gone. Outside, a snowman — the calling card of one of the most terrifying serial killers in recent fiction — has mysteriously appeared. Fans of Steig Larsson will really enjoy this thriller. Pacific Glory by P.T. Deutermann. A military adventure that tells the story of best friends Marsh Vincent and Mick McCarty and the naval nurse they both fall in love with during World War II. We Had It So Good by Linda Grant. The story of Stephen Newman, who came of age in the 1970s, and his journey to discovering the truth about growing older, and how little we know about our parents until it’s too late. Twenty Thirty by Albert Brooks. Cancer has been cured, there is a Jewish president, and Los Angeles has been leveled by an earthquake. Taking place in the year 2030, Brooks paints his vision of the future of politics, medicine, entertainment and daily living.

22 Britannia Road by Amanda Hodgkinson. Silvana and her son travel to England to reunite with Silvana’s husband, Janusz. As the past unfolds, however, it becomes clear that secrets of the past threaten to destroy Silvana and Janusz’s dreams of becoming a family once again. Non-FictionHardback The Art of Distilling Whisky and Other Spirits by Bill Owens and Alan Dikty. A backstage pass into the world of small-scale distilling of whiskies, gins, vodkas and brandies. Owens and Dikty provide a how-to on transforming water and grains into timeless liquors. Kaboom! How one man built a movement to save play by Darell Hammond. Growing up in a group home with his seven sisters and brothers, Hammond discovers his life’s mission: to build a “world-class non-profit that harnesses the power of community to improve the lives of children.” In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson. A vivid portrait of the first year of Hitler’s regime, told through the stories of William E. Dodd, America’s first ambassador to Germany during Hitler’s rule, and his daughter, Martha. It Happened On the Way to War by Rye Barcott. Before joining the Marines, Barcott spends the summer in Nairobi, Kenya, in order to better understand ethnic violence. It is here he decides to found Carolina for Kibera, an organization now leading the way in a movement called Participatory Development. Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle With India by Joseph Lelyveld. This biography shows the true Mahatma Gandhi by comparing the man with the myth and revealing all of his less palatable tendencies as well as the things that made him great. Non-Fiction-Paperback Mrs. Adams in Winter by Michael O’Brien. Louisa Adams and her young son leave Russia to meet her husband, John Quincy Adams, in Paris. To get there, though, they have to travel through snowy Eastern Europe, across the battlefields of Germany, and into a France that is experiencing a revolution.

Bookshelf

You Want Fries With That? by Prioleau Alexander. After walking away from a high paying job as an advertising executive, Alexander goes to work at minimum-wage jobs, “reveal[ing] a side of America that is rarely seen and challenges the stale white-collar notions of a deeper, more meaningful life beyond the cubicle.” Camouflage Prayers by Jill Connett. An inspirational collection of prayers that reminds us to not only pray for those that we see, but also the unseen, the camouflaged, who have a daily influence in our lives. The Man Who Ate His Boots by Anthony Brandt. With the end of the Napoleonic Wars, the British take it upon themselves to find the fabled Northwest Passage. After three decades, their efforts turn to the rescue of Sir John Franklin, who disappears while leading the last of these expeditions. What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Composed of various contributions made to the New Yorker, this book “…finds the intersection between science and society to explain how we got where we are.” children and young adult Press Here by Herve Tullet. Press the yellow dot on the cover. Turn the page. Tap the yellow dot three times, then watch as the magic begins. Just one look at this incredible new interactive picture book will have young readers begging “Again! Again!” Ages 3-7.

Bookshelf

Elephant and Piggie: Should I Share My Ice Cream? By Mo Willems. Gerald the Elephant is careful, Piggie is not. Gerald worries, Piggie laughs. Told in easyto-read speech bubble format, beginning readers will delight in the exploits of neurotic Gerald and outrageous Piggie as they embark on their next quest: what to do about ice cream. Ages 4-8. Shark Wars by Ernie Altbacker. Fans of the fabulously popular Warrior Cats series by Erin Hunter will love this brand new series chronicling the world of the “Shivers,” prehistoric shark clans that have ruled the oceans since the dawn of time. Now that the world’s oceans have warmed, and overfishing has caused food sources to wane, the battle for hunting grounds has caused strife in the underwater world and Gray, a young reef shark, begins to uncover the secrets of his hidden identity in an effort to bring peace to the ocean. Ages 9-12. the Penderwicks at Point Mouette by Jeannie Birdsall. In the third book of the delightful Penderwick Saga, a National Book Award-winning series with a classic feel, the Penderwick sisters are off to the beach for the summer with their old friend Jeffrey for long days of laughter, adventure and a sprinkling of trouble. Ages 8-12. Postcards from Camp by Simms Taback.In the tradition of the Jolly Postman comes this fun interactive book of correspondence between a first time camper and his dad as the young camper struggles to overcome the horrors and hilarities of summer camp. Complete with pull-out postcards, envelopes, stamps and even a classic ghost story, this fabulous new title by the renowned artist Simms Taback is the perfect thing to read with young campers going away from home for the summer. Ages 8-12. PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

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Don’t Squash Bugs

And 1,000 other things to teach my unborn son BY JACK DODSON

What your father would tell you

something about being a young man makes you think about having a son. i’ve always figured girls dream about the lessons they’d teach their daughters; i’m constantly making mental notes of things i’d like to pass on to my hypothetical little dude. Too bad Walker Lamond beat me to turning that into an awesome blog. 1001 Rules for my Unborn Son is the brainchild of Lamond, filled with pieces of wisdom for any growing or grown boy. it’s littered with quotes and pictures to go along with the rules, sometimes branching off a recent topic. many of them, though, are just good life lessons — not just for guys. Things like, “488. don’t bury the lede,” are universal (and he even spelled “lede” right; i’m guessing he studied journalism). you get the classic, “430. invest in great luggage, you never know where you’ll end up,” and even the Buddhist “433. don’t squash bugs.” But reading this blog, which is also a book published by Lamond, is like hearing a good commencement speech. it inspires, makes you laugh a little bit and, most importantly, makes you think about the way you live your life. you can get sucked in, just like with any good blog, repeatedly hitting “older posts.” Before you know it, you’re on page 30, everyone’s looking at you weirdly because you’re laughing to yourself and it’s dark outside. of course, there are things not everyone will agree with. “350. Ride in the front seat of a roller coaster” is one of those for me; i’m all about the back. But that’s part of the whole thing. you’re not going to agree with everything your valedictorian said upon finishing high school; you just have to appreciate the fresh perspective. and sometimes it’s just nice to simplify everything into rules every man should try to live by. my personal favorite: a black and white photo of arnold Palmer, standing proud during the height of his career. Right above, it says, “436. hold your heroes to a higher standard.” The caption to the photo reads, “i’m noT TigeR.” Perhaps times have changed — or maybe not.

honing the sound: fleet foxes

it’s not all that often that a band produces an especially good sophomore release — honestly, it’s about as rare as hearing an intelligent statement on Jersey Shore. But with fleet foxes’ newest album, Hopelessness Blues, it’s like The situation delivered a mind-blowing thesis on molecular biology. (That’s a good thing.)

This album isn’t your typical follow-up release, though. second albums tend to flop because they’re too much like their predecessors — just look at the pretty vicious opinions of The strokes’ Room on Fire.. on the other hand, sometimes albums try too hard not to sound like the first album. But Helplessness Blues is an almost unheard of situation where the band didn’t really change anything they did, they just did it better. The album is distinctly fleet foxes, complete with rich harmonies, powerful and complex acoustic chords, flowing melodies and a tinge of americana. That’s all nothing new, but somehow more refined. in fact, this is the kind of album you get from a successful band once they’re on their third or fourth release, around the time they’re really starting to be comfortable with their own sound. it’s that mature feel seen in albums like The national’s High Violet or the powerhouse of last year, arcade fire’s The Suburbs. The trick seems to be elaborating on a sound that already works. Their selftitled debut, which came out in 2008, was highly regarded within the indie scene. check the hype machine, they’re all over it. so there was no need to change a good thing, just make it better. Take “Battery Kinzie.” With a persistent drum pounding in the background, the song is very much something you would expect form the band. But the eloquent and slightly poignant lyrics keep it fresh. it opens with: “I woke up one morning/ all my ﬁngers rotten/ I woke up a dying man/ without a chance.” This kind of writing is a trope throughout the album. in “Blue spotted Tail,” the second to last track: “Why in the night sky are the lights hung?/ Why is the Earth moving round the sun?/ Floating in the vacuum without a purpose, not a one/ Why in the night sky are the lights hung?” Then, “Why is life made only for to end?” The album’s a seriously conflicted one, in the way someone in their late twenties begins to question, again, what life’s in fact all about. But it’s simple, eloquent and makes no rash claims about life. it’s just a mature but youthful stab at understanding that there’s so much to not know about the world. and this maturation is in no way limited to the writing. Look at the powerful “The shrine / an argument.” at eight minutes long, it’s easily the longest track on the album, and shifts through various ups and downs as it goes. Toward the end of the song, a haunting and severely off-pitch horn comes in over slow strings, jarringly throwing off the acoustic progression. it’s one of those moments where music is weird and is supposed to be. except that, in this case, you don’t really have to understand that to appreciate it. it’s just damned interesting. That moment — those thirty or so seconds while the horns are jumping from random note to random note — seems to sum up the album well. it’s unique, even a bit eccentric, but it all fits. There’s no incredible surprise here, just really well-made music. and in that way, Helplessness Blues is a work of art. PS Jack Dodson can be reached at jdodson4@elon.edu.

h i tt i n g h o m e

Don’t Tell

By Dale Nixon

The first time I came home from school with a poor grade, it was in algebra.

I just didn’t get it, and I didn’t much care. It was like a foreign language to me; a language I knew I would never be fluent in, and a language I was certain I’d never use. When I sheepishly showed Mother my math paper marked up all in red, she frowned and said, “What happened?” “I don’t know,” I stammered, “but would you please sign my report card this time? And don’t tell Daddy.” Don’t tell the daddy who worked with me night after night, sitting at our red Formica table in the kitchen going over and over the formulas, linear equations, fractals and factors of Algebra I. (I actually had to phone a friend to retrieve these terms.) Math came easily for Daddy. He liked to say it was his “thing.” He could do figures in his head faster than a calculator. He went to school and earned a CPA degree because he actually liked working with figures. He enjoyed doing his taxes and volunteered to do this chore for family and friends. He balanced the check book and wrote the bills because he wanted to, not because he had to. I didn’t want Daddy to know that his “thing” wasn’t my “thing.” I didn’t want him to know that all of his hard work had not paid off. I didn’t want to disappoint or embarrass him in any way. My math grades were just one of the many things I didn’t want Daddy to find out about. When I think back on it, I probably kept more from him than I shared. I missed curfew. “Don’t tell Daddy.” I drove my cousin’s car before I got my driver’s license. “Don’t tell Daddy.” I skipped church last Sunday, slipped away with some friends and

went riding around town instead of going to the services. When I got busted, my only request was, “Don’t tell Daddy.” I have a boyfriend. “Don’t tell Daddy.” I have a new boyfriend. “Don’t tell Daddy.” There was lots of stuff about turning from a little girl into a young woman that I certainly didn’t want him to know. “DON’T TELL DADDY.” My mother was the keeper of the secrets, and I don’t know who she was protecting the most, him or me. Then when I became a mother and Bobby became a father, the process started all over again. Both of my daughters repeated the familiar phrase. Sometimes they reacted with tears and trembling lips; at other times with a coquettish grin: “Don’t tell Daddy.” If there was a speeding ticket, a bad grade, money lost or money spent, a dress purchased with a plunging neckline, a tattoo (yo, Edie), a body piercing (yo, Hollis), a broken curfew or the same stuff about turning from a little girl to a young woman, the message was always the same. Daddy will be disappointed. Daddy won’t understand. Daddy might tease me. Daddy will be mad. So, “Don’t tell Daddy.” I am now the keeper of the secrets, and I don’t know who I’m protecting the most — him or them. The baton has been passed on from mother to mother, from generation to generation; secrets locked in our hearts and minds forever because our children didn’t want to embarrass, hurt or disappoint their daddies. But on the 19th of this month, there is one thing that all children should tell their daddies: Happy Father’s Day. PS Columnist Dale Nixon resides in Concord but enjoys a slice of heaven (disguised as a condominium) in the village of Pinehurst. You may contact her by e-mail at dalenixon@carolina.rr.com.

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T h e e v o l v i n g sp e c i e s

Over the River, Through the Woods, and Then Gone For better or worse, life reallydoes imitate art

The author (in blue) rehearsing with the cast of Over the River and Through the Woods By Sean Smith

The possibility of playing Nick

Photograph By Douglas Fry

Cristano in the March production of Over the River and Through the Woods had intrigued me for months, and it also scared the hell out of me.

If you did not recently get to the Sunrise Theater production, it’s mostly a humorous slice of life with rapid-fire dialogue exchanges between a grandson and his grandparents; Nick is the only family left in New Jersey for both his maternal and his paternal grandparents to dote on. The rest of the family has moved to Florida. Nick, Aida and Frank, and Nunzio and Emma are each other’s whole lives, and have Sunday dinner together every week. But everything suddenly changes when Nick finds his dream job in Seattle. I was raised — especially through high school and college — by my Nana, my Grandpa Frank, my Great Uncle Bill, and my Great Aunts Mary and Helen. Although it wasn’t as big a deal as Nick going to Seattle, when I moved to North Carolina there were no more dinners with Nana, and she missed how I’d set off the smoke alarm with the steam from my long showers. I called her all the time and I visited as much as I could. Then finally someone had to go. As Nick’s Grandpa Frank says, “Everybody goes.” I knew Nick would stir up the ghosts in me, and I’m not a method actor. I don’t work myself up to play sad by remembering something sad. If I had done that, my performance would have been a mess. The trick was to keep everything at bay. My Uncle Bill was hilarious, golden-hearted, and the life and host of every extended family get-together. Nick breaks down in a monologue toward the end of the show because Nunzio dies not long after his move to Seattle. It goes like this: “He died of prostate cancer that had spread to his liver and kidneys. My grandmothers’ said they had known about it, but that they did not want to burden me with the knowledge.” In 2006 I knew Uncle Bill was dying, and I knew he was going too fast PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

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T h e e v o l v i n g sp e c i e s

for me to get home to see him. He could no longer speak, and I stood in the parking lot of Hoke County High School on a cell phone relaying my last words to him through his daughter: Thank you for taking me to see Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I’m sorry for singing the Willy Wonka song so much you needed a Scotch. Thanks for singing the Willy Wonka song with me while you drank Scotch. Thanks for teaching me how to drive. Thanks for driving me to and from college every year until I finally had a car. Thanks for standing up for me every time I got caught engaged in reckless debauchery. Thank you for everything. And the next day he was gone. His beloved wife Helen, Nana’s sister, left in 2008. Grandpa Frank died in 1995. Now there are only Nana and Mary. After every performance as Nick, I would retreat to the dressing room and decompress. I would replay that day at Hoke like a vignette in my head, and I would shake uncontrollably for several minutes, and then I was O.K. Nana and Mary now live at the Mount Alverno Center in Warwick, New York. When Nana still lived by herself, I thought nothing of calling her up at odd hours to tell her things like I had just had a beer with Michael Jordan at a local club. And then she would ask, “What does Michael Jackson look like in person?” I bust her out of the rest home from time to time for burgers and beers at the same restaurant she took me to when I was home from college. Her blood sugar spikes and the nurses yell at me. Nana laughs. Mary lived for decades by herself in Brooklyn. She danced on tables at receptions — didn’t matter if it was a wedding or a christening. She sent me birthday cards with money in them up through my 20s. Currently she has a feud going with another resident in the home. They bang their walkers together like angry rams on a hillside. I’m no longer allowed field trips with Mary — senile dementia. As the Sunrise house emptied for the last time and the crew dismantled the set, I thought of Bill’s house in New Jersey being emptied and put up for sale. I thought of Nana’s house being emptied and put up for sale. At curtain call each night, I would linger on stage a moment, wave to friends, and then I would stare off at the back of the theater and wave … to Bill, and Helen, and Frank. I hope you were there. I hope you were amused. I miss you. PS Sean Smith is an actor, writer and former sports editor of The Pilot. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

V i n e W i sd o m

The Pull Of Prosecco

The poor man’s champagne celebrates the everyday pleasures of life

By Robyn James

I can always tell

when one of my customers has been on a sojourn to Italy, because they are smiling, glassy-eyed, requesting Prosecco.

It’s an Italian tradition etched in stone that if you are at a sidewalk café awaiting your meal or just passing time, you are having a glass of Prosecco. Prosecco, the poor man’s champagne, is also the rich man’s everyday treat. Ernest Hemingway’s and Orson Welles’ favorite haunt, Harry’s Bar in Venice, Italy, served them endless Belinis, a cocktail of peach juice and Prosecco. Unlike French champagne, Prosecco is a sparkling wine that is produced from Glera (Prosecco) grapes and is not fermented in the bottle, but rather in large stainless steel tanks, allowing the price to be incredibly affordable. About 150 million bottles of Prosecco are produced annually. The flavor of Prosecco has been described as intensely aromatic and crisp, bringing to mind yellow apple, pear, white peach and apricot. Traditionally Prosecco was made as a soft, somewhat sweet wine with just a little fizz, but today’s Proseccos are dry and very bubbly. Sometimes combined with a small amount of Pinot Blanc or Pinot Grigio grapes, Prosecco is made using the Charmat method rather than the Champagne method, the French method of making sparkling wine. The Charmat method allows the wine to go through the second fermentation in pressurized tanks rather than in individual bottles. No turning the bottles every day as in Champagne. The shorter, tank fermentation is preferable for Prosecco because it preserves the freshness and the flavor of the grapes. With its overtones of citrus, Prosecco is a perfect wine for summer. When you taste it, you think of almonds, apples, pears and sometimes hints of grapefruit or lemon, followed by a pleasingly bitter floral finish. Crisp and clean, light and fizzy, this straw-colored sparkling wine pairs nicely with seafood (especially calamari and crabmeat), salads, and all but the heaviest pastas. It also adapts to spicy Asian fare and salty dry salame (and, of course,

the classic melon and prosciutto). Prosecco is delicious, but it doesn’t demand the seriousness Champagne does (nor does it cost as much). It’s a sparkling wine that’s intended for celebrating the small pleasures of everyday life, such as sharing food with friends. In Veneto they say, “It is like water for us; we start drinking Prosecco at 10:30 in the morning with a Pellegrino.” Complexity? Depth? Levels of extract? Forget about all that stuff, it’s way too hot. Instead, kick off your shoes and socks and run through the grass barefoot. Dive through the waves until the salt brine cakes on your back. Jump into the pool and make a splash. Sing off-key and laugh. Bite into a peach and let the juice run down your chin. That’s what Prosecco is all about, and if you ask me, that’s pretty good. Here are some of my favorites: BORGO PROSECCO, $16.99 Offers hints of Gala apple, white peach and star fruit, with a spicy sublayer and a touch of anise on the easygoing finish. RATED 87 POINTS, THE WINE SPECTATOR RIONDO PROSECCO, $12.99 This effusively fruity, light-bodied offering has terrific floral notes, persistent effervescence, and a clean, delicate finish. There is not much body or weight in this crystal-clean, pure, sparkling white. It is an ideal aperitif to enjoy over the next year. It is an amazing Prosecco. RATED 90 POINTS, ROBERT PARKER, THE WINE ADVOCATE CINZANO PROSECCO, $14.99 “This balances lively acidity with the gentle sweetness of ripe strawberries and pear. Its bright, lasting freshness will match burrata with speck and arugula.” RATED 90 POINTS, WINE & SPIRITS MAGAZINE PS Robyn James is proprietor of The Wine Cellar and Tasting Room in Southern Pines. Contact her at winecellar@pinehurst.net.

T h e k i t c h e n g ard e n

Blackberry Summer Perfect for a June wedding cake — or just eating from the vine

By Jan Leitschuh

A month out from the utter abundance of

July produce, one can still hardly stand the prosperity of June! Many kitchen garden treats come ripe: succulent field-grown tomatoes redden in the middle of the month, along with yellow squash, cukes, zucchini, sweet corn, green beans and the early peaches. The season of feasting begins!

Fruit-lovers that we are, though, we can’t help but notice that the local blackberries arrive conveniently wedged between the strawberries of May and the blueberries of July. This sandy region also has a good story about a closely related relative, the dewberry. Yes, of all the June kitchen garden possibilities, let us speak of berries. Unlike the tender raspberry, whose leaves shut down and sulk on the job during our hot Sandhills days, the blackberries thrive on sunshine and do well in our area of the South. Botanical artists love to paint the arching canes, which sport both unripe red and ripe purple-black fruit in June. Wild blackberries are abundant under power lines, in cut-over areas and wild edges, as those with the thorn-scars, chigger-bites and snake-scare stories can attest. Nonetheless, determined berry-lovers eyeballed their favorite wild patch way back in late April, when the pretty, five-petaled blossoms covered the stems, called canes. In my view, the starry stamens and pale petals are pretty enough to bring inside to mix with flowers. Blackberries also thrive in the tamer home garden, and newer varieties are not only larger with a good sugar content but thornless to boot. The “Arkansas” group of developed varieties — such as Arapahoe, Ouchita, Navaho, Choctaw and other Native-American-derived names — will grow the first year and then bear large, black fruit on those canes the next. Thus, the second year, you’ll have canes with blossoms and berries, and next year’s new canes poking up. After the older canes are picked clean, cut them down to make room for the next year’s crop. This cuts down on diseases. Though I have not tried them, some newer “primocane” varieties — such as Prime Jan and Prime Jim — are supposed to bloom on this year’s canes, making it a short wait for berries. Blackberries make for a high-maintenance crop where commercial growers are concerned. The canes are grown on special trellises, some of which cleverly lie down for growing then swing upright for picking. Berries themselves are ticking

time bombs with a short shelf life — imagine having flats and flats of fragile fruit to dispense with! These concerns are few for a homeowner with a few plants trained up against a fence, and a freezer and berry-loving appetite. For your own home berry-making machine, prepare a sunny site with some good compost, and be sure the pH of the soil is favorable. The preferred 5.5 to 6.6 range is a little sweeter than our native acidic sand, so perhaps add some lime if you haven’t taken a soil test or limed in the area recently. Blackberries are perennial fruit crops, which means you won’t need to replace them annually. It’s useful to offer them support like a fence, a stake or a simple trellising. Even better if your structure is something you can mow around. Blackberries have a puckish sense of humor and will send out exploratory roots and then ‘poof!” up comes another plantlet. No worries, they can be kept in bounds with mowing or simple grubbing out. The hardest part will be not picking the first berries that turn black on your new plants. You can, of course, but if you do, they’ll likely be sour. Blackberries develop their best sugars right about the time that spectacular glossy shine just dulls a bit and they about fall into your hand. Then, heaven! ... unless a stink bug has inserted its mouth parts into the berry! Then it may taste foul. Ha ha, Mother Nature can be such a joker! Don’t be a sorehead, it won’t hurt you. Try another berry and this time look out for the stink bug damage. How? Each single berry consists of many little juicy sacks of fruit surrounding a seed, and is called a druplet. A sunken or damaged druplet could be a sign, so just nick that bit off and eat away. Unlike raspberries, the inner pale stem, called the receptacle, comes off along with the berry. Not to worry, it’s edible. The seeds, full of soluble fiber, may be hard for compromised digestive systems to deal with, but if you can handle them they’re actually quite good for you. As is — you know this refrain by now — the blackberry itself. Blackberry fruits and leaves have been used throughout the ages as “medicine.” During the Civil War, stories are told of soldiers stopping their fighting to gather blackberries — not only because they were delicious, but also to ward off disease and add vitamins to their nutrition-poor rations. You’re not a bit surprised to learn that blackberries are rich in antioxidants, such as the anthocyanin pigments responsible for the purplish-black color of blackberries, are you? Antioxidants fight the aging process. Additional blackberry antioxidants are vitamins C and E, and the potent ellagic acid; all may provide protection against cancer and chronic disease. Cooking doesn’t seem to destroy ellagic acid, so even blackberry jams and pies retain ellagic acid health benefits. Interestingly, blackberries are a natural source of salicylate, a substance found in aspirin. Potential benefits have yet to be explored, so some experts advise caution in aspirin-sensitive people.

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Once you have a bunch picked into your bucket, then what? Blackberries are divine mixed with other berries. A cup of sliced strawberries, cup of fresh blackberries, cup of blueberries, a little lemon zest dressed with a little lemon juice and honey makes a fine dessert. Blackberry pie, muffins, cobblers, jam, jellies and even wine and brandy are classics. A few fresh blackberries atop most anything dress that thing up: a slice of pie, a custard tart, yogurt, ice cream, granola, drinks like a blackberry lemonade or blackberry mojito. For the latter two, follow the usual recipes and just muddle some fresh blackberries into the mix. My husband and I had blackberries crowning our fruit-encrusted June wedding cake, and thought it quite elegant. Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t let the seeds get in your way if you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care for them. These can be strained for jams and jellies by mashing through a sieve. A very sexy swizzle stick is a few skewered blackberries frozen ahead of time. The frost looks just as refreshing in tea or lemonade as a cocktail. And what of the aforementioned dewberry, after which a number of Sandhills â&#x20AC;&#x153;lanes,â&#x20AC;? â&#x20AC;&#x153;drivesâ&#x20AC;? â&#x20AC;&#x153;farmsâ&#x20AC;? and â&#x20AC;&#x153;roadsâ&#x20AC;? are named? While early settlers in this area fretted over our poor and sandy soil, some of the more observant noticed it grew two things very well: pine trees and dewberries, a trailing, ground-running form of blackberry. Along with the turpentine industry, the fruit business grew up in the area as a way to export products and import cash. In 1892, it is written, the Lucretia Dewberry was introduced to Moore County. This cultivated blackberry was grown on farms all around the Cameron area. In fact, Cameron became the dewberry capital of the world, attracting buyers from as far away as Florida. In the ten years from 1910 to 1920, they say, between 60,000 and 90,000 crates of dewberries were shipped each season in refrigerated boxcars from Cameron to such destinations as Richmond, Washington, and New York. The domestic bushes soon aged, history tells us, and no new bushes were planted. Older plants are susceptible to disease. Soon, the dewberry industry suffered a double blow. Not only did a â&#x20AC;&#x153;rust,â&#x20AC;? or blackberry leaf fungus, strike the aging dewberry plants, but a new kid emerged on the scene as premier cash crop: tobacco. The dewberry industry died out completely, along with the turpentine industry, by the early 1950s. Blackberries are making a comeback in the area though, in part thanks to the excellent work of the Sandhills Research Station in small fruits, and local farmers willing to try dethroning the old king, tobacco. How sweet it is. If you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care to grow your own, consider a visit to local markets to take a â&#x20AC;&#x153;ticking time bombâ&#x20AC;? off some innovative farmerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hard-working hands. Serve this recipe below in pretty stemware that shows off the swirls.

T h e k i t c h e n g ard e n

Blackberry Honey Cream 4 3 1 1

cups Greek yogurt tbsp warm honey cup blackberries cup blackberry coulis (recipe below) Beat the yogurt with honey to taste. Divide half the berries among four glasses, drizzle with some coulis and spoon over yogurt. Top with the remaining berries and some coulis. Serve immediately.

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Blackberry Coulis

2 cups blackberries 3 tbsp regular or golden castor sugar 1 tsp. vanilla extract Put blackberries and sugar into a small pan with 3 fluid ounces of water. Bring to the boil, simmer for 5 minutes until the fruit is soft. Stir in the vanilla, remove and cool a little. Tip the contents of the pan into a blender or food processor, and purÃ©e, then strain through a sieve, rubbing it through with the back of a ladle or spoon. Serve warm or chilled. Keeps in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days, or freeze for up to 3 months. PS Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative.

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S p i r i ts

Carol’s Cocktail

Canton Ginger and Elderflower liqueurs create a new summer classic

By Frank Daniels III

As the weather moves from cool to comfortable to “come-on-inside,” many of us migrate from whiskey and martinis (although there is always a place for a martini regardless of the temperature) to “lighter” cocktails.

Traditionally, rum, tequila, vodka and gin cocktails have hot weather in mind, and with the infusions and new liqueurs available you can update and revive some of the classic cocktails. And you can take those classic recipes, or inspirations from your local bar, and spin up your own versions tailored to your favorite flavors. Two excellent newer liqueurs to enhance your cocktail hour are St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur and Canton Ginger Liqueur; they can change a run of the mill cocktail into a memorable, and oft requested, one. I use Canton Ginger in several cocktails throughout the seasons to add a little spice and surprise flavor, but St. Germain has a flavor and nose that assumes command of cocktails. Increasingly you will find the elderflower liqueur in special martinis to give them a floral nose and smooth softness. You’ll know when you’ve had a cocktail with elderflower when you cock your head and ask, “What is that?” Then you’ll grab the cocktail menu to review the ingredients. A couple of summers ago, we were enamored with these two liqueurs and were determined to concoct a drink that combined and showed them off. This cocktail has turned into one of our most popular, and can be mixed in a pitcher for a larger party very easily. I love the crisp nature and taste of Plymouth Gin and use it as the base for most of my gin cocktails, but dry London gin works, as do some of the new American dry gins like Small’s or Corsair. Canton Ginger and ginger ale give this cocktail a spicy edge, and the St. Germain turns our cocktail from a gin and ginger into a memorable drink. We love the added summer flavor that the cilantro adds to the cocktail, but some people have a gene that makes cilantro taste like soap, and your special cocktail will seem like parental punishment to them. You can substitute basil or lemon basil to maintain the summer motif, but the cocktail will still shine if you have to refrain from the garnish. With the floral nose and refreshing ginger this cocktail has become an afternoon favorite around the pool or in the garden. Enjoy. PS Frank Daniels is an editor and writer living Nashville, Tenn. His cocktail book, Frank’s Little Black Bar Book, Wakestone Press, is available at The Country Bookshop. fdanielsiii@mac.com.

Carol’s Cocktail This light refreshing ginbased cocktail is perfect for watching sunsets, sitting on the deck, or sipping before going out for an evening with friends. The tartness of ginger is soothed by the floral lightness of elderflower. Add the kick of a dry gin and you have a summertime winner. 1 1/2 oz Plymouth Gin ¾3/4 oz Canton Ginger Liqueur ¾3/4 oz St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur Diet ginger ale Fresh sliced ginger, long pieces Fresh cilantro Mince fresh ginger root slices, leaving one slice per glass for garnish. Mince fresh cilantro, leaving several sprigs for garnish. In a cocktail shaker add two parts gin, one part Canton, one part St. Germain, minced ginger and minced cilantro. Add ice and shake vigorously. Strain mixture into highball glasses with several ice cubes, filling glass about two-thirds. Top off with diet ginger ale. Stir slowly, rub the ginger slice around the rim and drop into the glass along with a sprig of cilantro. Video instructions for making this cocktail can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNmOVgSe7Ic

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B Ii R rdwat D WA T CH ch

Grasshopper Sparrows Tiny, secretive â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and hidden gems of the grasslands

By Susan Campbell

One of the rarest breeding birds here

in the Sandhills is the grasshopper sparrow. This diminutive, cryptically colored bird can only be found in very specific habitat: contiguous, large grassland. Such large fields are hard to find in North Carolina these days. Even if you happen to find the right habitat, seeing an individual, even a territorial male, is not very likely. They are secretive and well camouflaged against the vegetation. But their voices are very characteristic: a very highpitched buzzy trill. It is the combination of their call and the typically grasshopper-rich areas in which they are found that give them their name. Here in our area they now are only found in man-made grasslands. Up to eight pairs utilize the hay fields at Hobby Field along Youngs Road. The other location where they have historically bred is the Moore County Airport. I have identified as many as twelve territories there between the runway and Airport Road. I suppose some may use drop zones on Fort Bragg; however, these typically have a variety of herbaceous vegetation that does not include a significant grassy component. Grasshopper sparrows return from their wintering grounds in Mexico and the southeastern coastal plain of the U.S. by mid-March. Males spend

much time singing from taller vegetation, often beginning their day well before dawn. They use short, low-fluttering flight displays to impress potential mates. Females build cup-shaped nests in a slight depression, hidden by overhanging grasses, containing four or five creamy eggs that are speckled reddish-brown. Habitat loss has certainly affected the small local populations of these birds. Furthermore, mowing of the fields usually destroys nests. Nevertheless, the birds stay and attempt to nest again. But in the shorter grass, their nests are easily detected by predators such as foxes and raccoons. Therefore, breeding success tends to vary greatly from year to year in such locations. If the habitat remains unaltered from May through August, grasshopper sparrow pairs can produce two (and sometimes three) families in a year. But these birds are vulnerable to the effects of pesticide use as well. Although they do eat small seeds associated with the grasses that grow around them, they also catch significant numbers of insects, especially when they are feeding young. While grasshopper sparrows are not easy to observe in summer, in winter, they are even harder to find. They mix in with other sparrows that frequent open spaces and seldom sing. Yet for those experienced birdwatchers that enjoy the challenge that comes with sorting through â&#x20AC;&#x153;little brown birdsâ&#x20AC;? (like me!), their flat foreheads, large bills and buffy underparts are a welcome sight. PS Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by e-mail at susan@ncaves.com, by phone at (910) 949-3207 or by mail at 144 Pine Ridge Drive, Whispering Pines, NC 28327.

T HE P LE A S U R E S O F LI F E

The Beloved

ydrangea

Once the glory of my garden, I now wait for summer blooms

By Claudia Watson

As a youngster of five, you

Photograph By Pat Taylor

could find me most Friday nights kneeling at the upstairs bedroom window of my grandparents’ old Pennsylvania farmhouse with my chin perched on my cupped hands, eyes locked on the gravel road that drew a straight line from the nearby highway to our house.

I would wait until I’d see the cloud of dust that rose and raced toward me, signaling the approach of the Ford Fairlane. As soon as I heard its tires crunch the gravel, I would race downstairs and out the back door to the old iron farm bell, which I’d clang in a welcoming fanfare. Dad was home after a week on the road. Hemlock Valley Farm was home to my mom as a young girl and was the temporary home to our family while our first home in Ohio was being built. Those months on my grandparents’ dairy farm inspired a life-long love of all things that take nourishment and grow from the good earth. Nana, always bound in a white apron and carrying at least one pail for her garden pickings, would spend hours with me in her vegetable and flower gardens, always attentive to my youthful curiosity and numerous questions.

In the afternoons, we would take to the shade of the tall sugar maples at the back of the house where a beautiful sweep of deep-blue hydrangeas framed the edges of the back porch. It was there that I’d spend quiet time with her, out of the heat. She’d tell me stories and show me how to make pretty wreaths for my head, or laugh as I’d parade before her, as if a bride, with a billowing bouquet of hydrangeas. The huge pom-pom-like flowers of old-fashioned, big-leaf French hydrangeas remain one of my summer garden favorites, not only for the childhood memories they evoke, but also for the long and colorful season they offer to the garden landscape. Hydrangeas still captivated my imagination early in life and now, fiftysome years later, hold me captive. This morning, my once magnificent “Nikko Blue” hydrangea looks forlorn. Its woody stems reach up from a cluster of foliage at its base to the morning sky begging for help. I would like to say I could help it, but so far, I have failed, miserably. That hydrangea, along with a graceful twenty-year-old Cherokee Red dogwood, was the centerpiece of the summer garden at the new home my husband, Roger, and I bought in Northern Virginia in the late ’90s. Soon after purchasing our home, which sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, I renovated the scruffy slope into a wonderful display that was a pretty sight for all who lived or visited our quiet enclave. After turning loads of compost, aged cow manure and peat moss into the

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T HE P LE A S U R E S O F LI F E

slope’s depleted soil, I planted the hydrangea and numerous ferns, hostas and pink impatiens to complement its lush light-green foliage. The garden saw the sunrise and was blissfully sheltered from the mid-day sun by the dogwood’s broad canopy. I offered the garden a gentle shower from a sprinkler daily, and the old-form hydrangea flourished. Within two years, it attained spectacular size and burst with a surprise; instead of the expected deep-blue domed clusters, it offered a showy palette of pink, lavender and blue blooms. Neighbors walked by in the evening to look and take photographs. A schoolteacher brought her middle-school class often. They took soil samples and cuttings and studied its growth, marking each visit on their yardsticks. Everyone wanted to know the secret of the shrub’s kaleidoscope of colors. Some even suggested I used radioactive waste, since the plant’s abundant tri-color blooms appeared to glow under the soft moonlight. It was a very happy hydrangea — until we moved. As any gardener can attest, moving and leaving your favorite plants behind is a gut-wrenching experience. So I asked Roger to help me dig and divide some prized plants to take with us to our new home in Pinehurst, among them the dazzling hydrangea. Once settled into our Pinehurst home, I selected a sunny spot under the high shade of longleaf pines near a grove of native dogwoods to transplant my half of the prized hydrangea. I turned and amended the soil and placed it gently into its new home and waited patiently for three summers, but no blooms. After three more years, and in a fit of frustration with the thing, it was unceremoniously hauled out of its hole and relocated again to an area with less afternoon sun exposure and some drip irrigation; but it just got lanky and again offered no blooms. Then, two years ago, I decided the hardy old soul needed to go somewhere else — anywhere else where it could either live or die, on its own, and out of my view.

he exodus was handled by the yard care guys, who dug a large hole on the eastern side of our property where the hydrangea would receive only morning sun and dappled afternoon shade. It was given life support: drip irrigation to call its own and Fertilome feedings in the spring. Instead of its once glorious tri-color blooms, its woody stems hold only various gadgets to keep the deer from nibbling its tender leaves. Now, ten years later, as the foliage sprouts once again from its base and the woody stems swell with buds, I wait. Perhaps this will be the year for its encore, perhaps it will bloom. Despite countless hours of research, nothing seems to address the issues with this plant. I hated to give up on it, so decided to search out some old-time hydrangea lore in hopes of discovering a cure for the beleaguered plant.

I also explained my dilemma to Pete Gulley, who has a plant for every landscape situation and rattles off plant care instructions with ease. He provided me with several possible causes for the plant’s decline, including a husband armed with pruning shears. I reassured him that was not the case in this situation and asked if he had experience with any of the old-form hydrangeas. Sensing that I was looking for something other than the usual plant care instruction, he nodded, “I’ll show you something you might like.” I followed his quickened gait to a tidy bed. “These are the old standbys in the Southern summer garden, nothing prettier, ‘Nikko Blues’. I planted those fifteen years ago.” I stared at them, struck by the coincidence that his beloved hydrangea selection was my hydrangea quandary.

ete’s heirloom hydrangeas are tucked under the canopy of a statuesque Chinese snowball viburnum, where they are protected from the harsh afternoon sun. “When these come into bloom here, people get very interested in them,” he offered. “Often we’ll get some brides who want to carry something blue, so they’ll ask to cut a stem or two.” Then, abruptly, he stopped mid-sentence and looked over my shoulder. “See that, it’s the old farm bell,” he said, pointing to the rusting relic. “It’s from my grandmother’s farm. The farm is where we had the old figs, old grapes and all the old plant material, as well as all those old hydrangeas — things you plant, let grow and don’t disturb.” I turned to look at Pete’s farm bell; it was identical to the bell at our family’s farm and long forgotten to me until that moment. Then Pete’s voice broke through my memory, “I own it now, the farm. It’s still in the family — well over 100 years now. I didn’t want it to go,” he added, while admiring a beautiful Lady Banks rose that climbed over the nearby arbor. My focus shifted to recollections of our beloved family farm — a place and a time I could only wish for again. As my memory sharpened, I remembered the Friday nights when I’d eagerly push through the thick hydrangeas at the base of the old bell to tug the rope and announce my dad’s arrival. I remembered those lazy summer afternoons shared with my beloved Nana, our laps laden with the delicate blooms of “Nikko Blue” hydrangeas. It was in these moments that my love of hydrangeas began. Pete reminded me how our memories, if allowed, can supply the clues to so many of life’s little mysteries, even the seemingly insignificant ones like restoring a vigorous life to my prized hydrangea. In his succinct words, I heard the wisdom I’d been searching for — plant it, let it grow and do not disturb it — words worth keeping. Perhaps, this year, that hydrangea will bloom. PS

As we approach the one year anniversary at The Sly Fox, our chefs are concentrating intently on the sourcing of local foods to present to our guests. Stimulus for our local economy and significantly reduced impact on our environment are both wonderful benefits of this approach to gathering the bounty that abounds in our immediate area, but do you know our favorite reason? The taste! A meal out may be had at any number of places. One prepared with care and respect may be had at ours.

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500 East Rhode Island Avenue | Southern Pines, NC 28387 (866) 545-1018 toll-free | www.penickvillage.org

P ar e n t h o o d , Et c .

The Second Half

As the nest clears out, I find myself looking forward to new adventures — but missing my old ones

By Sue Pace

My daughter

just finished her first semester in college. Everyone has been waiting to see if I will need life support with her out of the nest.

I also have a son. He works and attends community college. He lives at home after a year away at the university, but he pays rent, does his own laundry, makes his own dinner (or microwaves his own dinner) and manages his own finances. He is also on the way out. Yes, I will survive. Yes, there is still glue that bonds me to my kids — maybe with just a little less adhesive. I don’t want another baby. My body reminds me on every hormonal level that I’m closing that chapter. I have two wonderful young adults in my life. To wish I could go back and do it all again with them — even that seems too exhausting. But, it’s the unknown that ails me. Will they make good choices? Have I taught them well — enough? Will they be happy? Will we stay close? Or will I end up simply a Facebook stalker on my kids’ pages? Oh wait, my son won’t “friend” me on Facebook. My daughter told me just about everything in high school. I know there is a natural filter now. A little ignorance is bliss when your kids go off to college. My son, who has always been more private, does occasionally surprise me with an indepth and insightful conversation. Will these continue once he has moved out? And what about me? As most moms tend to do, I used my kids as an excuse to drop the ball on myself emotionally. As a stay-at-home mom I was too busy making Pocahontas birthday cakes or leaky snow globes for a class project or trying to devise an orderly system for my son’s plethora of varying Lego pieces. I’ll save you some time on the Lego containment idea — dump all one thousand little parts in the biggest plastic container you can find and enjoy the sound of your kid rustling through it for just the right piece. But, honestly, who can be so selfish when you’ve anointed yourself with the title of Best Mother in the World? A very sudden end to my twenty-three-year marriage turned our world upside down. My kids and I found a new home, new friends, new strength, new adventures. We slowly healed. We are still healing. I met a wonderful man who has no kids. We got married in 2009. He has patiently waited for me to focus on being a couple. I must confess, I am now focused on the next Skype chat with my daughter and whether my son should buy land or rent an apartment. Now, it’s time to ante up. Can I switch gears and find as much enjoyment from marriage as I did from motherhood? I suppose my husband doesn’t need a leaky snow globe. Did I mention I’m back in the workforce part-time in a gift shop? I should embrace all of this, right? Because now it’s all about ME. And there’s the rub. Kids suck the “me” out of you. You happily let it happen. You embrace

that “Mom” title. You want to be the all-time champion of that title. You’ll fight to the death and run over your best friend to be the winner of that title. A legend in your own mind. You don’t want to let that title fade because for those who choose motherhood as their full-time career — well, your career just went into semi-retirement. Here’s your hat, Mom, what’s your hurry? Your new title now is “I’ll call you when I need something, Mom.” You want to remind those sudden independent offspring of the times when they crawled into your bed after a nightmare or clung to the outside of the bathroom door while you took thirty seconds to breathe. But, you know that reminding them of their early dependence on you may mean they will retire you altogether or worse, de-friend you on Facebook. You now have to learn to be a backseat driver and know when it’s time to just get the hell out of the car. But, your new role doesn’t sound quite so interesting or challenging or time-consuming. And time is what this is all about. Time you’ve spent is a memory. Time you’re about to spend is a mystery. We all know time heals everything. The good news is that I have a wonderful husband who shares my goals about what this second half of life should look like. He even confessed that after a brief scare when I went uncharacteriscally quiet for a few days after taking my daughter to college, he was pleasantly surprised to see how quickly I bounced back into vintage verbal form. I know the definition of a helicopter parent, and I will not get my pilot’s license. I still need to visit Italy. I’m writing. I’m renovating. I’m having a weekly dinner/wine night with my best girlfriend. I call it empty-nest-transition therapy. I take yoga and embrace every down dog position I can get into. My job provides a new challenge and a humbling realization that I am a little rusty in the workforce. I can make a killer Pocahontas birthday cake, but I can’t accurately count the number of quarters we have in the cash drawer at the end of the day. My kids have my respect. I really don’t hover. I should also confess that my daughter hasn’t moved far from our home in Chapel Hill — just forty minutes away to NC State. I know, forty minutes? Really? All this angst over a short drive down I-40? She is not boarding a plane for Afghanistan. Those are the mothers who suffer the pain of really letting go of a child. But, she is already lobbying for an apartment in Raleigh this summer. Home is just a pit stop now. My kids are independent and levelheaded. I guess I have taught them well — enough. As the second half begins, I may be ailing, but at least I can self diagnose the condition. What about life support? I’ve discovered it in the form of friends, new job opportunities, and most importantly, from my husband, who wants to spend his second half of life with me. My kids will be just fine, too. We’ll all spend time on our own figuring out just who we are now. We have our memories and we’ll look forward to making more. It will just take some time. PS Sue Pace lives on the outskirts of Chapel Hill with her husband, five cats, three dogs and two occasional kids.

T h e sp o rt i n g l i f e

The Barbecue

There are a few places in the South not yet gone with the wind

By Tom Bryant

Photographs By Tom Bryant and Awena Hurst

A couple of weeks ago Linda, my bride, and I had the rare opportunity to visit a small town on the far western edge of the low country of South Carolina, an area that was fortunate to survive the ravages of the War Between the States and Sherman’s hordes as they laid waste to the South on their march to the sea. This part of the South is a piece of our Southern culture that has been washed up in the eddy of time, where things move more slowly, people are sincerely friendly, and a man’s word is his bond. Russell and Awena Hurst, a young couple who lived in our neighborhood until last November, moved back to Russell’s hometown where

he would take his place in the family business. They had invited several friends from their old neighborhood to drive down for a weekend visit to their new home. With a lot of hard work, they had turned an old hunting lodge into a lovely country cottage and had done much of the work themselves. Friends from the Bamberg area were also invited, and all of us were going to enjoy a grand old pig picking with all the trimmings. The ride down was an experience. Once off Interstate 95 with all its traffic driving at breakneck speed going nowhere, we entered a tranquil landscape with magnolia-lined drives stretching across freshly plowed fields to antebellum columned homes. It was a scene from Gone With the Wind, and we were indeed fortunate that the devastation of Sherman’s wild bunch did not reach these plantations in the 1860s. When we arrived mid-afternoon at the Hursts’, our hosts met us and gave us a brief tour of their home. Russell then escorted us to the house that had belonged to his grandfather. It was a mid-century modern home, spacious and rambling, with very comfortable sleeping quarters for us. After a brief respite, we headed back to the plantation to see if we could help with preparations for the festivities. A couple of the good old boys from Bamberg were in charge of the

T h e sp o rt i n g l i f e

pig cooking, and when I inquired as to how it was going, they were more than happy to show me how they put together a pig-picking in South Carolina. White tents covered tables for all the food, and the cooker for the pig was immediately adjacent. One of the fellows lifted the heavy top on the grill and showed off a delicious looking whole pig that had been cooking since five o’clock that morning. “It’s about done,” Jack, one of the cooks, said. “Hang around, Bubba, and I’ll give you a taste.” The pork was delicious, some of the best I’ve ever eaten. The key, he explained to me, was choosing the right pig, cooking with wood or charcoal, and preparing it slowly. “There ain’t nothing that’ll mess up a good pig barbecue more than cooking it too hot and fast.” The rest of the day was a feast of sensations from taste to smell to sight. Linda and I wandered the grounds watching and enjoying. The event reminded me of my own past family reunions, and I noticed the similarity of the people and the fun and made these little observations: A restored 1950 John Deere tractor parked in the middle of the dirt path near the cottage.

Kids and dogs materializing at the same time and all chasing each other here and yonder as fast as they could. All manner of folks standing around, libations in hand, talking about fishing, food and weather. An old rope swing hanging from an ancient oak tree with an English bulldog and a curly coated retriever gnawing and swinging from the ropes beneath the seat. A cypress-lined pond with a trailer full of canoes perched on the bank. A father and son paddling in the middle of the black water while a golden retriever swam behind. An old cypress log barn, older than anyone can remember, sitting as staunch as ever in the middle of the doings. Food-laden tables stretched out beneath cotton-white awnings.

T h e sp o rt i n g l i f e

Folks kicked back on the screen porch, dodging no-see-ums, as the sun began to sink over the pines and live oaks. Come and get it! Supper. Lines of folks beside the tables oohing and ahhing as they filled paper plates to the brim with everything from potato salad to barbecue, all the while remembering to save room for dessert. After dinner, a huge bonfire was started and the kids were given sparklers. The evening settled into quiet conversations.

Parents watched their kids, sparklers ablaze, race around in the semi-darkness like fireflies. And as the moon slowly came up over the pines, the smallest children drifted to their parents to be bundled up and taken home to dream about their day on the Hurst farm. The next morning after a delightful breakfast on the big screened porch, we headed back toward Southern Pines and a stopover at my family’s old home place for lunch. As we drove, Linda and I talked about our own roots growing up close to the land and how we had become enamored with nature and the outdoors. When we got home, I looked up a quote from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind and noted how appropriate it was then and now, especially as we observe the 150th anniversary of that terrible war. “For tis the only thing in the world that lasts…and to anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them the land they live on is like their mother… Tis the only thing worth working for, fighting for, dying for.” It did my heart good that weekend to see that our young friends, Russell and Awena, have decided to keep that grand Southern tradition and move back closer to the land. I envy them. PS Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

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G o l ft o w n J o ur n a l

Hickory Golf Strategy, imagination and fun are just three elements that vintage wooden clubs bring to the game

By Lee Pace

The hard and

dense wood from hickory and persimmon trees has been shaved and whittled into bows, flutes, spoons, billiard cues, tool handles, drumsticks, skis and walking sticks over many centuries. Golfers up through the 1920s knew hickory for the shafts in their clubs and persimmon for the heads of their driving clubs, but those materials gave way to technology as steel, titanium, graphite and other lighter and more malleable materials came to be. When the Taylor Made Company developed metal driver heads in the early 1980s, the company broached each corner of the Periodic Table of Elements by naming the clubs “Pittsburgh Persimmon.”

Today a cadre of golf traditionalists cling to the old ways by playing pre1935 clubs and trekking around vintage golf courses wearing plus-fours, argyle socks, tweed tams, button-down shirts and neckties. There are national championships for hickory golf played in Australia, Canada, England, France, Germany, Scotland, Sweden, Finland and the United States. “When I pick up my club now, I can smell it,” says Matt Dodds, a hickory golf aficionado from Burlington, Vermont. “It’s of the earth, it’s iron, it’s wood, it’s leather, it’s been crafted. I’ve been the guy buying a new driver every three years. I’m off that wagon now, which is kind of nice.”

The genesis of the modern hickory golf movement traces to 35 acres of ancient farmland outside White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia. A group of Scottish, English and American gentlemen in 1884 laid out nine golf holes on land owned by a Bostonian named Russell Montague, who had purchased land close to the area’s renowned “healing springs.” The course was later abandoned but was restored in 1994, and Oakhurst Golf Links — resplendent with its sand tees and 2,250 yards of fairways groomed by two dozen sheep — was the venue for the inaugural U.S. National Hickory Championship in 1998. One of the participants was Jay Harris, at the time a dentist from High Point and, since 2004, the occupant of a home along the seventh hole of Pinehurst No. 2. “Slowly but surely the interest in hickory golf has grown,” Harris says. “Some of the people at that very first tournament have become very good friends. My day has come and gone as far as tournament golf. Playing hickories, I am not unhappy with bogeys. Before, if I made three bogeys in a row, I was really hot. Par for me in hickory golf is high 70s, so I have room for some bogeys.” As a teen and young adult, Harris played in the North and South Amateur at Pinehurst against the likes of Billy Joe Patton. Then he spent his working life fixing stuff, specifically his patients’ molars, incisors, gums and other contents of the mouth. Now his hands are occupied with vises, sanders, saws, epoxy and solvents as he restores and repairs antique clubs. “Working with my hands and fixing something has been a natural transition,” he says. The Hickory Nut is the retirement sideline Harris launched several years ago in his workshop to repair vintage clubs and supply rental sets to hickory tournament competitors nationwide. “Most of us are older; we’re tired of trying the next five hundred dollar driver,” Harris says. “What you find out is, if you have good hickories, you can play anywhere from 5,300 yards to 6,100 with no problem. A lot of golf

G o l ft o w n J o ur n a l

courses that were gems in their day, the young long hitters thumb their noses at today. Hickory golf brings the old, classic course back into play.” Donald Ross and other golf designers from the early 1900s would be smiling from their wooden boxes. Pinehurst courses Nos. 1 and 3, Mid Pines, Pine Needles and Southern Pines Country Club are popular among the hickory gang in Moore County. There’s an active group at Sedgefield in Greensboro, and in late May the Carolinas Hickory Golf Association conducted a one-day tournament at Hope Valley in

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“If I sacrifice 10 or 15 yards off the tee, so be it. I believe the game was meant to be played this way.” Durham. The 2010 U.S. Hickory Open was held at Mimosa Hills in Morganton, and the 2011 competition will be waged at French Link, Ind. All the above have that delightful patina of Ross’s handiwork. The U.S. Professional Hickory Golf Championship was played in February 2011 at Temple Terrace Golf & CC in Tampa, a club that hosted the original Florida Open in 1925 and remains true to its 1922 Tom Bendelow design. The challenge, the venue, the tradition, the camaraderie — many elements unite the avid hickory golfer. “The game’s too easy with modern clubs,” says Randy Jensen, of Omaha, Nebraska, a multiple winner of the U.S. National Hickory Championship. “You can hit the ball all over the clubface and still hit good shots. Playing with hickory is more of a challenge. It’s more fun.” Chris Deinlein, of Sedgefield, concurs. “This is the only way I play,” he says. “If I sacrifice ten or fifteen yards off the tee, so be it. I believe the game was meant to be played this way. And old courses do not become obsolete when golfers use hickory.” Rob Pilewski was head golf professional at Mid Pines in 2004 when he learned of the U.S. National Hickory Championship at Oakhurst and attended with the thought of drumming up some new business for the 1921 Ross layout that plays a perfect length for hickory golf from the member tees — 6,114 yards. That led to Mid Pines hosting its own hickory tournament that fall, and the event will be in its eighth year this November. Pilewski is now head pro at Pinehurst

g o l F T oW n J o U R nA l

No. 6 and has his own set of hickory clubs and participates periodically in hickory competitions. “They’re the neatest folks,” he says of hickory devotees. “They’re all traditionalists, they love the history of the sport and they enjoy each other’s company.” Kelly Miller, president and CEO at Pine Needles and Mid Pines clubs, cites the par-four 12th hole at Mid Pines as an excellent example of how hickory golf “restores the design integrity” into what Ross laid out. Twelve is a short dog-leg left hole. The left corner in the fairway is guarded by a bunker, and the right side of an inordinately skinny green is well protected. The angle of the green setting makes the target inviting from a left-side fairway approach; it’s all but boarded shut from the right side. “With modern clubs, you don’t even think about the bunker on the left on your tee shot,” Miller says. “With hickories, the carry has got to be about 190 yards, so that’s a pretty good poke. There’s significant reward playing to the left side of the fairway, but the challenge is far greater. Hickory golf brings a lot of strategy back into play.” The wooden shafts, tiny sweet spots and unforgiving club faces also encourage golfers to sharpen their games. “You know that sting you feel in the winter if you hit the ball thin?” Pilewski asks. “That’s what you get every time when you miss-hit a hickory. It forces you to slow your tempo down and focus on good contact. You have to learn different shots, too. You can’t sail the ball in high with all the lofted wedges we have today. You’ve got to learn the run-up shot.” Hickory clubs are available from a variety of sources — from antique club dealers to ebay to guys like Harris who attend hickory tournaments at various locales. It’s easy to buy modern clubs via the mail as clubs are made to exacting specifications by machines. The quest for good hickory clubs is a sport in itself, as is tweaking them to an individual’s feel and taste, such as breaking a soda bottle and using the sharp glass to whittle a shaft a few millimeters thinner for a bit more of a whippy feel. “There’s an art to finding good clubs,” Miller says. “A lot of guys love the thrill of the hunt. They shop and trade and experiment until they get their set right.” The hickory golf movement is here to stay. Its connoisseurs are passionate. They march to a different beat and aren’t looking for a better game through science. After all, as Kelly Miller muses, “Who wants to hit it shorter?” PS Lee Pace will write about hickory golf and other vintage topics in his forthcoming book, “The Golden Age of Pinehurst,” due out in the spring of 2012. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

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June 2011

June Bugger Writing a rhyme on the subject of June Requires the usage of croon, tune and moon. Ho-hum. Been done.

Get to the beach, get there in June Smooch with your sweetie behind a sand dune. Hike up a mountain, start before dawn Hit June garage sales before good stuff’s gone.

Surely the month that initiates summer Deserves something smart, not same-old or dummer. Risking contempt I’ll attempt:

June is for strutting out tiny bikinis, Guzzling beer and sipping martinis. Fire up the grill and sizzle a steak June is for lemonade, ice cream and cake.

June is the month of school graduation Courtships and weddings and oops! copulation. June is the season of lilies and roses Pollen from grasses running your noses.

On the 19th of June, give Pop a new putter To thank him for bringing home bread with the butter. Flag Day’s the fourteenth, nothing is finah Than waving the red, white and blue made in China.

June is Bing cherries, yummy and round The best at Fresh Market — six dollars a pound. June is for baseball, Red Sox and Phillies Remembering Mantle and Ripken and Willies.

That’s about all for month number six Wrapping it up with these timely last licks: I did it, I did! Ogden Nash kiss my grits I ain’t no Will Shakespeare but clichés are the pits! By Deborah Salomon Photograph By Hannah Sharpe

Sons and Brothers J After a Final Summer Together, the Gifted Glissando Quartet Moves on to a Wider World By aShley Wahl • PhotograPhS By tim Sayer

ill Yang keeps her pantry stocked. With four hungry teenage boys to feed, she hardly has a choice. Only one, Myles, is her son. Nevertheless, where there’s one, rest assured the others will be too — four, to be exact, a perfect quartet of appetites. Through this final Sandhills summer, anyway. As graduation looms, this remarkable group of gifted musicians and inseparable high school seniors — Myles Yang, Robert Edens, Dillon Taylor and Madison Struhs — prepare to embark on separate journeys to college and life beyond. Until then, though, they’ll continue doing what they do best. And that’s making sweet, classical string music. Together. ***

“We started playing together as fourth-graders in the Pinehurst Elementary School Orchestra,” says Robert, who sits in the Yangs’ parlor, where the boys often practice, fingers loosely curled around the neck of his cello. “The Glissando Quartet began sometime during our sophomore year of high school.” Glissando? Myles smiles and explains. “It’s a musical term for when you slide between pitches.” Or, “gliding through the strings,” as his mother puts it. Mere weeks before turning tassels at Pinecrest High School’s commencement ceremony this June, the quartet meets to practice for an upcoming gig: a reception at the Holly Inn. Snacks (and homework) over, they begin. “It’ll be loud,” Jill warns from the couch. Sure enough, following a poised silent break, signaled by an unseen gesture, pure magic commences — in this instance a soulful rendering of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Song swells to the high ceiling, sorrowful, at turns even sprightly and rousing. One thing becomes instantly clear: These stringed prodigies, the aging-out Boys of Summer, are well on their way to becoming young masters. At a time when their contemporaries are playing final games and bidding girfriends goodbye, the Glissandos seem seasoned beyond their years. And perhaps that’s why, despite their obvious talent, the quartet stays in such constant demand around the Sandhills. Music and history sweetly bond them as sons and brothers.

Their first paid gig was a wedding ceremony some years ago at the Carolina Hotel — “ No pressure there,” Madison quips. Since then they have performed at cocktail parties, art galleries, wedding receptions and fundraisers of every sort, including PineStraw’s popular Holly and Ivy Dinner at the Holly Inn last December to benefit the Givens Memorial Library and Tufts Archive. When the North Carolina Symphony performs at the Pinecrest Auditorium, one can frequently catch the Glissandos in the lobby working as a classy warm-up act. Their repertoires are extensive. So, too, their memories of good times shared. One memory trumps all. “We were playing at a holiday event last December,” Madison recalls, and had selected a piece from Fiddler on the Roof. “Let’s just say we didn’t see any menorahs decorating the place.” The boys laugh as they reminisce, telling the story in giddy fragments. “Basically, we started playing it,” says Robert, “and somehow it got out of control.” “One of us was thinking that the song was sort of inappropriate, and started laughing,” Madison continues, “and, since we have to look at each other to give signals…” “…We all started laughing uncontrollably,” Robert says, “tears streaming down our faces.” Feeding off one another, per usual, the Glissando guys get the giggles again. “It was pretty sloppy, but we played through it, practically crying the whole time,” says Madison. After laughter, the boys get back to practice. Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 — “abridged,” they specify — is next. How nice, says Mama Yang, to have had all these years of live classical music in her home. And to watch them play is to witness their unmistakable awareness of each other. “I remember them as little kids,” she says. “All their free time is spent together. They don’t even have to speak to communicate.” Free time? The quartet laughs at the very idea. “This is it,” one chimes. “When you’re serious about music, it’s kind of all you do.” Myles’ permanent hickey is proof — a purple bruise on his left cheek from the chin rest of his viola. It probably goes without saying that they are all top honors students, too. And each leads his respective section in the high

school orchestra. Little wonder they’re able to do much else. “Occasionally they bring girls over,” Jill says. Thanks, Mom. They also play in a progressive metal band, “in the garage,” Jill reveals, where collectively they play guitar, keyboard, drums, synthesizer, ocarina (because it was “cheaper than bagpipes,” quips Dillon), and a host of homemade shakers, rockfilled water bottles and such. But no matter what genres the boys experiment with, their collective hearts belong to the symphonic canon. “It’s more dynamic than popular music — more delicate,” says Myles, who can hardly hold his viola — let alone conversation — without plucking, strumming, making some sort of song. “Plus, you can do pretty much do anything you want with it.” And they do. They play “Blue Sky,” a Yang-arranged Allman Brothers classic near impossible to not to tap along to, then a chillingly forceful “Eleanor Rigby” that proves words aren’t needed. “This is what they do for fun,” says Nicole Peragine, orchestra director at Pinecrest High School. “They continually impress me. Sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re eighteen at heart.” “She’s awesome,” the boys say of Nicole, who “doesn’t sugarcoat anything” for these boys, she says, particularly when it comes to preparing them for what the music industry is all about. “Basically, we’re going to be poor,” joke Robert and Myles, who both plan to pursue careers in music. At summer’s end, Myles begins music composition at the distinguished Berkeley College of Music in Boston. Robert may venture that way, too. If not, he’ll head to Appalachian State University, where Madison plans to study criminal justice — “kind of a change of pace,” he admits with a slight grin. Dillon, the most “punctual” and “precise” of the group, is Chapel Hill-bound, where he plans to study engineering — “not sure which field.” Nonetheless, instruments will be in tow. As their splendid musical journey approaches its final days, not surprisingly these gifted sons of summer appear at a loss for words. “It’s sort of one of those topics we only joke about,” Robert says of parting ways. “We’re not quite ready to face it yet.” Through Mohawks, broken bows (double-dare) and a shattered violin (ninja training) — not to mention their whole educated lives and all the awkward phases, pantry raids and good times in between — these sons are practically blood brothers. “It’s been a fun journey to watch,” says Jill of the boys becoming young men. “We’re brothers,” they say. Then, they play. PS

Clockwise from top left: Myles Yang, Dillon Taylor, Madison Struhs and Robert Edens

In Gourd We Trust Photographs By Hannah Sharpe

In harmony with their semester-long theme of working with recycled or organic materials, 3-D Design students of Sandhills Community College’s Art Department were assigned to transform gourds — purchased from an Amish farm in Pennsylvania — in such a way that they resemble fine pottery. Students used a range of tools, water-based paints and glossy glazes to achieve interesting surface treatments and intricate designs. The student art exhibit, Make it Gourdgeous, will be on display through July 26 at the Hastings Gallery in SCC’s Katharine Boyd Library.

“Changing Elements” by Mindy Boswell

“Heart of Hearts” by Jessica Zak

“Gourds Never Looked so Good” by TJ Chavis 64

“Native Pottery” by Travis Collins

“An Artist Mask” by Ethan Curtis

“Tribal Art Revival” by Caleb Brady “Destruction of Life” by Nakischa Cambridge PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

“This has been an exceptional group of students. They surprise me all the time. There wasn’t a bad gourd in the bunch.”

“Ever Ending” by Elizabeth Schilling

— Denise Baker

“The Step in Change” by Kaytlyn Hughes

“Sate Symbols” by Sarah Upole 66

“The Flower” by Victoria Hamilton

“Rotten to the Core” by William Furr

“I’ll Eat You Alive” by Victoria Hamilton

“Sorrow Petals” by Nakischa Cambridge

Maxwell Struthers Burt The Man Behind the Mystery Portrait By John H. Wilson

he former home of renowned author James Boyd and his wife, Katharine, on East Connecticut Avenue in Southern Pines, is a jewel of the Sandhills. It is a treasure, a secret, a sanctuary. A walk through its magnificent gardens, followed by a brisk hike into the surrounding hills of field and forest, never fails to lift my spirits and refresh body and soul. Occasionally, I enter the venerated Boyd residence (now Weymouth Center for the Arts and Humanities) and end up in the first floor library. I find this room inviting, evoking a bygone era with its warm shadows and dark paneled cabinets lined with old leather and filled with clothbound books once belonging to James Boyd. One afternoon in late January, while I was resting on the brightly upholstered sofa opposite the fireplace in the library, my eyes settled on a portrait of a thin and wiry gentleman, with a stern yet intelligent regard. I rose for closer inspection. The portrait was dated 1923, most intriguing since the only portrait in the library other than those of James Boyd was unnamed. I learned the sketch was of (Maxwell) Struthers Burt, writer and intimate friend of the Boyds. I wanted to know more. After some investigation, I discovered that Struthers Burt was indeed an extraordinary man. He was a poet, a writer of short stories, an activist, a reformer, and a novelist, who was part of the fabric of Southern Pines for nearly three decades until his death in 1954. Burt’s friends described him as witty, charming, courageous, and enormously fond of people. Burt was born in Baltimore in 1882, raised in Philadelphia, and graduated from Princeton University in 1904. He spent the next several years studying in England and Germany, starting a family, teaching English at Princeton University, living in France, and fulfilling a childhood dream of establishing a ranch out West, all the while putting pen to paper. After serving in the Army Air Corps during World War I, Burt distinguished himself as one of America’s leading short story writers. His first collection of short stories, John O’May, published in 1918 by Scribner’s, was an instant hit. Two years later, Burt won the O.Henry Memorial Award Prize, equal in prestige to today’s Pulitzer, for his story “Each in His Generation.” Short stories were all the rage in the early 1900s. The hugely popular Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies Home Journal, Harper’s Magazine, Scribner’s and other weekly magazines depended on them to attract readership. Burt had his share of critics, like all writers, but his work was well received

by associates of the coterie of writers living in Paris during the 1920s, known as the “Lost Generation,” the most famous being Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. In 1920, a young writer and 1917 graduate of Princeton University thought so highly of Burt’s work that he knocked on his front door with a “hot off the press” copy of his first novel, This Side of Paradise. He was F. Scott Fitzgerald. This book shook the literary world and catapulted Fitzgerald to fame. Five years later, while living in Paris, Fitzgerald completed his most famous novel, The Great Gatsby. Burt followed up his success with three consecutive novels, all best-sellers. The Interpreter’s House, published in 1924 by Scribner’s, was an immediate success, followed by When I Grew Up to Middle Age (1925), and The Delectable Mountains (1927). The Interpreters House was the basis for a film, “I Want My Man,” starring one of America’s leading actors of the era, Milton Sills. Burt’s autobiographical account of experiences on his dude ranch in Wyoming (the Bar BC Dude Ranch) was serialized in the Saturday Evening Post, and published as a book in 1925. Diary of a Dude Wrangler was a hit. Burt’s They Could Not Sleep, a collection of ten short stories, was published in 1928 by Scribner’s. Burt captured the defiant mood of the 1920s with social satire and humor, but as the decade came to a close and the world became a more serious place, he directed his writing toward critical and historical pieces and his energy toward his new ranch in Wyoming, land preservation, and his winter home in Southern Pines. In 1938, he completed Powder River, a powerful historical account of the settlement of Wyoming.

truthers Burt and James Boyd first met in the spring of 1909 at Princeton University, where Boyd was a junior and Burt was a young English instructor. Burt had just returned from Oxford University in England and Boyd had just been elected chairman of “The Tiger,” Princeton’s comic weekly, a position held by Burt seven years prior. Young Jim Boyd asked Burt if he could stop by for a few minutes to discuss his new job. What was intended to be a quick meeting turned into hours of discussion, the foundation of a lifelong friendship. After Boyd graduated from Princeton, both men went their own ways. Burt headed west to ranch and Boyd took a job at a newspaper in

James Boyd

Hibernia, Burt’s home in Southern Pines.

Sturthers Burt on his ranch in Wyoming

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and later worked for Doubleday Page in New York. Both men served in the Army Air Corps during World War I. After the war, James Boyd surprised Burt at his home on Mercer Street in Princeton. Their friendship resumed where it began years earlier. Burt was now married with two small children, Nathaniel and Julia. He met his wife, Katharine Newlin, at Oxford University in 1912. When Burt and Katharine began searching for a place to live in the winter, Boyd showed them around Southern Pines. The couple fell in love with the Sandhills; in 1926 they purchased Cedar Pines Villa, a small hotel amid 28 wooded acres adjacent to the Weymouth estate. Architect A.B. Yeomans, a relative of James Boyd, was hired to convert the property to a private residence as it had been in 1900, when it was built. The striking Colonial Revival, renamed Hibernia, was one of the most beautiful homes in the area, distinguished by a wide reception hall with a great curving staircase. Hibernia was the scene of much hospitality when the couple was in town. Burt and his wife split their time between Southern Pines and their ranch in Wyoming. Writers from around the state and nation were drawn to Southern Pines by the magnetism and charm of James and Katharine Boyd and their many friends. Struthers Burt wrote the following about his friend Jim Boyd: “In the summer he always wore white, and his crisp voice would take on a Southern drawl, and he seemed to expand and relax, to become even more philosophic. As a rule, he had interesting people about; people from all over the world. He attracted people from all over the world.” A writers’ colony had formed in Southern Pines, Burt’s wife, Katharine Newlin Burt, became an active participant. She authored at least thirty romance and western novels, becoming the fiction editor of The Ladies Home Journal in the late 1930s. James Boyd died unexpectedly and tragically in 1944 at the age of 55 in Princeton, New Jersey, just hours after dining with a group of British officers at a conference. Struthers Burt wrote a moving five-page tribute to his friend that was published in the February 1945 edition of The Princeton University Library Chronicle. He wrote that his most cherished times with Jim Boyd

were the “hot Carolina evenings when we would sit out on the lawn of his house, the tall pines and the buttonwoods reaching up to the skies, and would talk and tell stories until the hot night grew cool with lateness.”

heir friendship endured, I believe, because both men were busy, open-minded, and felt passionate about the land. With James Boyd, it was his beloved ancestral home in Weymouth, his horses and hounds. With Struthers Burt, it was his ranch in Wyoming and his quest to preserve the natural beauty of the West. Burt was a driving force behind the establishment of the Grand Teton National Park. Over time, Hibernia became too large to handle. The Burts sold it in 1952 to Mr. and Mrs. Martin Butler Gentry of New York City and returned to Three Rivers Ranch in Wyoming (purchased in 1929). They continued to maintain close contact with Katharine Boyd and others in the Sandhills. Not long after the sale, Struthers Burt became ill. He passed away two years later on August 28, 1954, at the age of 71. He is buried in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Katharine Newlin Burt continued to write; she lived to the ripe old age of 95. Their son, Nathaniel, graduated from Princeton University in 1936 and was a notable writer and poet as well. The legacy of the Sandhills as a literary center continues. Owing to the foresight and hard work of Nancy Boyd Sokoloff, the daughter of James and Katharine Boyd, Sam Ragan, Paul Green, Buffie Ives, and others, the Boyd estate was transformed into the Weymouth Center for the Arts and Humanities in 1979. Its renowned Writers-in-Residence program welcomes authors to stay and write at the Boyd home; programming in the arts, humanities, literary, and music draws people from around the state and nation. I am sure James and Katharine Boyd and Struthers and Katharine Burt would be pleased. PS John Wilson spent 28 years with the U.S. Foreign Agricultural Service and lives in Southern Pines.

Sandhills Photography Club Portrait Competition

The Sandhills Photography Club welcomes all who have an interest in improving their photography skills and gaining the technical knowledge that goes along with it. The club meets at 7 p.m. on the second Monday of each month at Christ Fellowship Church on Midland Road at Pee Dee. Regardless of skill or background, any prospective member is invited to attend. Website: sandhillsphotoclub.org

Class A - 1st Place

Class A - 3rd Place

Donna Ford Thoroughly Modern

Eric Kniager Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Unbelievable

Class A Honorable Mention Class A - 2nd Place Mike Stratil Wonder

June White Final Touches

Class B - 1st Place Brenda Hiscott A Seasoned Sailor

Class B - 3rd Place Lana Rebert Nathan

Class B - 2nd Place Jeanmarie Schubach The Golden Earring

Class B Honorable Mention Suzanne Kirkman Everybody Needs a Hug

Class B - Honorable Mention Matt Smith Isaac

Class B Honorable Mention Suzanne Kirkman Love Lights the Way

The living room, washed in aquamarine, is framed in an archway that Sanford added. Stars on the wallpaper are her logo. A birdhouse from Aberdeen and an Indonesian sideboard reflect Sanfordâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s worldwide adventures. Right: Julie Sanford, serene in her Pinehurst garden.

Story of a house

Cottage Industry A Mariner Creates a Serene Dwelling in the Land-locked Pines By Deborah Salomon Photographs By Glenn Dickerson

hen an interior designer designs a house for herself, she creates an autobiography, with illustrations. Julie Sanford’s life fills volumes at Craven Cottage in Pinehurst. To wit: Julie Sanford is one with the sea. Ships, beaches, marine life on the walls. Neptune’s shell-encrusted mirror and coffer in the entranceway. Sea-captains’ chests still smelling of camphor wood. Julie Sanford loves birds, nautical and otherwise. As art forms they are everywhere, from tern prints in the master bedroom to a quirky metal sculpture on a living room table, to carved cardinals perched on the gate. Julie Sanford thrives on a refreshing color she calls, fittingly, aquamarine — the calming blocks of her tiled foyer floor, also reflected in glass lamps, upholstery, sheer curtains and living room accents. Julie Sanford reaches for the stars. “Stars keep me close to heaven.” They appear on fabrics, wallpaper, mantel adornments and her business card. Julie Sanford has a weakness for plates. They hang everywhere — azure blue in the kitchen; black-and-white French Gien plates on a bathroom wall, each depicting a comical situation. Nineteenth century fruit plates painted with birds near the back door. Julie Sanford has been there, seemingly done everything. Sailed across the Atlantic in a 42-ft. sloop. Trekked partway up Macchu Pichu. Explored Indonesia on a Harvard University Natural History trip. Snorkeled in the forbidden black hole of a Caribbean lagoon. She teaches yoga, zones on Zen. Julie Sanford gardens passionately, whimsically. Observe the huge flowerpot tipped purposely, allowing contents to spill out and root in the soil. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

Ships, beaches, marine life on the walls. Neptune’s shellencrusted mirror and coffer in the entranceway. Sea-captains’ chests still smelling of camphor wood.

Left: A sea-captain’s chest, nautical art, collections on the shelves and proportional furniture convey the elegant cottage look. A beachscape framed in hammered copper and star-studded wallpaper enlarge a modest living room. Right: In Sanford’s study/ office, red meets green and is highlighted by a nude, the work of New York Times columnist Russell Baker’s daughter. Yellow walls make a happy room, Sanford believes, with the sharp contrast of black fabrics.

Julie Sanford has a weakness for plates. They hang everywhere â&#x20AC;&#x201D; azure blue in the kitchen ... nineteenth century fruit plates painted with birds near the back door.

Another graceful arch and shelves displaying beautiful dinnerware turn function into art in Sanfordâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s kitchen. Right: Well-planned space and soft touches integrate a modern kitchen.

This energetic woman’s roots, however, emerge from the land of Melville and Moby, not Mitchell and Scarlett. The tides of Cape Cod shaped Julie’s childhood. “Sailboats, rowboats — we grew up on the water,” she says. Marriage landed her in Nantucket, haven of the affluent and artistic, where her husband’s wealth provided a spectacular home to fill with beautiful things — and access to clients for her budding interior design practice. Julie learned design “by the seat of my pants. I’ve always drawn. I studied watercolor techniques and attended Boston Architectural Center. I’m a draftsman.” Which is like calling Vera Wang a seamstress. Julie’s work has appeared in Country Living, The New York Times Sunday Magazine and Nantucket picture books.

his designer transmits that priceless intangible: taste. “I like the integrity of real — no TJ Maxx,” she says. “I create beautiful space.” Her mantra, as self-applied: “Edit out the junk, keep the best things that motivate you, that make you feel good.” Clients trust her with penthouses in Manhattan, cottages on Nantucket, townhouses in Boston, a pied-a-terre in Paris, vacation homes in Newport and Caribbean villas. She does yachts, too. At home, Julie raised a family. They moved around. Her string of residences includes a riverfront cottage in Woodstock,Vermont (formerly servants’ quarters for the Rockefellers), a contemporary glass condo in Massachusetts, a New Hampshire farm and several other reclaimed homesteads. After her marriage ended, Julie met an interesting gentleman in Vermont. “I took care of his geraniums,” not knowing that he also had a place in the Sandhills. On a visit to

Julie Sanford calls herself “a pink person” — this particular peachy shade glows on her bedroom walls. Room for an oversized tub was found in a little used closet. Right: Antique quilts in guest room and elsewhere represent the patchwork of Sanford’s life.

Fayetteville, where her sister was caring for their mother, Julie discovered Pinehurst, a Woodstock lookalike minus brutal New England winters. The U.S. Tennis Associationranked player found a tennis community. Surely, there was an historic house in the village — not too big, not too small, not too perfect — awaiting her imprint.

raven Cottage was built alongside four others in 1921 and sold to Pinehurst Resort as a guest rental property. Documents described it as a German-side frame cottage with Tudor-arched entrance and broad gable facing the street, valued at $14,000. Rental for the October-to-May season was listed at $1,500. The Tufts Archives owns a letter dated 1929 from a resort representative to lessee Mrs. H. Johnson, requesting payment for broken chairs and articles removed by the Johnsons’ cook. Alice Craven, proprietor of a village knitting shop, lived in the cottage in the mid-1930s, followed by a John Thomas Craven, in 1959. Post-Cravens the property was named Longleaf. That graceful arched Tudor entrance and the angles of light pouring through windows captured Julie. Never mind the shag carpet and assorted 1960isms. During alterations she repeated the Tudor arch between living room and dining room which, she believes, was originally a front bedroom. Her Indonesian interlude lives on in a massive carved sideboard surfaced in mirror, and a stunning shore-scape framed in hammered copper by an artist known for crafting synagogue doors. Beyond the dining room, her office is done in unlikely pea green and bright red, rendered harmonious. Julie points out how she continues a color from one room to another: a bit of living-room aquamarine in the dining room rug, which also includes blocks of her pea-green office. Color definitely rules a narrow TV room overlooking deck and pocket garden. “All my houses have a yellow room,” Julie explains. “Yellow is a happy color.” Soft yellow walls set off black wicker furniture (including a daybed for catnaps with her four Yorkies) and flowered window poufs.

Julie Sanford at home in her â&#x20AC;&#x153;zen gardenâ&#x20AC;? filled with a variety of plants, sculptures and peace. Photographs this page by Cassie Butler

Photograph from the Tufts Archives

Craven Cottage was built alongside four others in 1921...Documents described it as a Germanside frame cottage with Tudor-arched entrance and broad gable facing the street, valued at $14,000.

In the compact kitchen, function supports art. Plates are displayed at soffit level. A tall, simple work table replaces island and breakfast bar. Bathing beauties a la Modigliani hang opposite still more antique plates. An open shelf holds stunning blue and white English Transferware, which Julie uses daily along with her sterling silver. A curved wall repeats the geometric wallpaper pattern. Julie loves wallpaper, too. No room is big, yet none seems small. “People do better in intimate spaces,” Julie believes. Details and proportion rule: a pickle jar lamp, café curtains for privacy without sacrificing light, pedestal tables, crown moldings. Upholstered pieces are luxurious without being overstuffed. Picture frames are art themselves. Multi-purpose “great rooms” leave Julie cold. “There’s no there there.” Instead, she prefers this livable scale enhanced by window seats, paned glass doors and recessed shelves to display her collections of boxes, Majolica china and Staffordshire figurines. “My home is my sanctuary; I can sit here quietly, getting a sense of what’s right and wrong.” A rear staircase leads to the attic, now two bedrooms and a bath, with oversized tub installed in a dead space Julie found beneath the eaves. The painted sink bowl came from a salvage outlet; its magenta flowers match the valance as though created by the same brush. Each room contains at least one object with a story. So what’s the deal behind the unusual pink suffusing the master bedroom? Julie adores the pale, peachy wall color, which she calls “steeple” pink — the hue she saw reflected from a church steeple in Nantucket, at sunset. Her dark antique bureau, bed and dressing table show well against the pastel. Diaphanous balloon valances in the exact pink make the low-ceilinged room float. The guest room, with crisp nautical blue touches, resembles a seaside B&B. Obviously, among the pines, this cottager still pines for the sea. Julie compares her cottage of multiple patterns, colors and fabrics to 19th century quilts made by women who took pride in every stitch. Julie loves quilts, too. They hang from the walls, drape over beds. They patch together her history. “I found roots for the rest of my life in this house. You have to love where you are and what’s happening.” Because, Julie continues with Zen-like acceptance: “You can’t resist what is.” PS

HomeStyles

LYNETTE WILLLIAMS Broker

Specializing in all of Moore County

910.295.6056

lynettwllms@aol.com www.foxcreekre.com

“

Count on me to provide the best

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State Farm Agent:

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Hwy 211 West, Pinehurst, NC 910-215-8150

www.jimleachagency.com

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HomeStyles

Dandelions and Scrub Oaks Weeds and Native Plants Do Not a Garden Make By Robert Hayter

ative plants, plants indigenous to a region, are getting more and more attention these days as preferred candidates for your garden. No doubt with good intentions and what seems like logic, using natives in your garden should be the right thing to do. Well, maybe. Before I lay out some of the merits and challenges of growing and benefiting from a garden of native plants, let me confess my connection to a well-known weed and non-native plant: the dandelion. My family name, Hayter, is English and means “keeper of the hay.” You know the grasses, and pasture plants, cut, dried and fed to livestock. Working livestock on ships sailing from England to the New World, my ancestors may have unknowingly introduced dandelions to the American landscape. Dandelions are native to Europe and are common to the hay fields of England. So their seeds were in the hay. Today there are numerous recipes for the plant’s leaves and roots alike. You might say weeds are part of my heritage. History tells us that man’s selection, use and spread of plants has occurred in all cultures and civilizations, often as unintentional as intentional. In fact, few if any of the fruits, vegetables, grains, or roots we eat are native to anywhere. Take that salad you ate for lunch yesterday. All the plants in it are selections, hybrids, or varieties of an original native plant. The tomatoes, carrots, onions, lettuce, squash, and broccoli are multigenerational hybrids and have no native home. Yet you can grow many of these plants successfully in your garden. Growing plants actually reflects man’s husbandry and connection to the benefits of the natural world. Which brings me to the good intentions and challenges of using native plants in your garden. There are many native plants that adapt and perform well in gardens as well as natural environments. Our Southern magnolia is an excellent example, along with the American holly, longleaf pine and dogwood. However, native plants represent a small portion of both garden and food plants around the world. Why? Science indicates that just because a plant is native to a region is no assurance that it can easily be propagated, transplanted, and successfully grown. So the vast majority of native plants are not grown in our gardens and landscapes. Another myth is that native plants are more conservative with moisture (water use) and nutritional needs. It just ain’t so. Most plants that grow well on non-native sites do so in large part due to their evolution in similar ecosystems. Many Moore County gardens can be significantly different because of their soils. A garden in Robbins has rusty red, poorly drained clay soils, whereas a garden in Aberdeen supports plants with beach-like well-drained sandy soil. But other than soil type, their overall environments are quite similar. Both gardens generally get similar rainfall, temperatures, day length and seasonal conditions. Therefore, plants from many different places around the world which grow in ecosystems similar to ours are far

more the measure of their adaptability than being geographic native. It’s not as simple or reliable to grow native plants as today’s press indicates. Look around our attractive Moore County landscape. What do you see? Imagine the Sandhills with no pine trees and no golf! This image conveys a paradox. By the early 1900s most of the longleaf pine, a native tree, had been cut and shipped out as timber. The majestic trees we see today have grown back since then. The longleaf is a native plant that truly defines our region. Now what about golf? Golf courses rely on turfgrass for fairways, tees and greens. Fact is there are no native turfgrasses to the Sandhills. None. This helps explain why the Pinehurst Village Green is a pine woodland. Early attempts to establish Mr. Tufts’ native New England grasses failed. The ensuing pine seedlings germinated and were allowed to grow in this designated civic open space. Let’s look a little closer at our landscape and another of “today’s” native plants. Ah, the ever present scrub oak. It’s native because we live here and have practically eliminated natural fires. Scrub oaks naturally occur in the lower, moister areas of the Sandhills and on the Piedmont edges of the region. Today’s stand is far more extensive than is truly natural, primarily due to the lack of natural fires. Scrub oaks are actually an invasive native plant. Invasive non-native plants are a real problem, and one of the primary reasons for the current attention given to using natives. Many of these invasives are not only management problems in your garden but can alter or destroy nature’s habitats. They should be avoided and never planted. However, they represent a very small percent of the beneficial non-native plants you can grow in your garden. It will be difficult to rewind the plant husbandry clock. Consider apples, azaleas and peaches. They often convey our seasons, traditions and connection to plants. Imagine no apple pie, “Southern” azaleas, or peach ice cream. John Chapman, aka Johnny Appleseed, and apple pie, or for that matter, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, seem all-American for sure. But Mr. Appleseed’s apples and the apples we have bought, grown, cooked and eaten and thought of as American (native) are all originally from Europe. And those magnificent evergreen azaleas are surely as Southern as magnolias. Not really. Other than their North Carolina mountain cousins the rhododendron and an array of deciduous azaleas native across the state, the evergreen azalea comes to us from Asia. Ben’s roadside market in Eagle Springs will not be serving their homemade peach ice cream if we go all native. What, no summer peaches in the Sandhills? Like many tree fruits, peaches made their way to the Sandhills starting sometime around 300 A.D. They left China, stopped in Persia, spent centuries in Europe, and then came to Moore County. Much like America’s melting pot of people and cultures, plants have been the world’s ingredients for food, fiber, and shelter for thousands of years. Gardens and the landscape alike can benefit from native or nonnative plants that are well behaved and provide beauty and environmental benefits. As one of America’s first gardeners said, “The greatest service which can be rendered to any country is to add a useful plant to its culture.” (Thomas Jefferson) To be a good steward of our environment or effectively protect the Sandhills does not require an all-native plant garden or landscape. Garden plants, whether food or ornamental, native or non-native, have been selected over long periods of time and remain desirable because of their adaptability. So enjoy your evergreen azaleas and dogwoods, your longleaf pines and Bermuda grass or Southern magnolias and fragrant gardenias. Good gardens and responsible landscape plantings are most often made of native and non-native inhabitants. Pass the dandelion greens, please. PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

Waterfront Properties

PINEHURST $595,000

Premier Water Front on Lake Pinehurst

3 BR / 2.5 BA

Code 715

www.3LakeShoreCourt.com

PINEHURST $750,000

Excellent Floor Plan – Beautiful Water Front

3 BR / 3 BA

Code 776

www.1LakeShoreCourt.com

PINEHURST $589,000

Elegant Spacious Water Front Home

3 BR / 3.5 BA

Code 752

www.3SherwoodCourt.com

SEVEN LAKES WEST $699,000

Elegant Water Front – Breathtaking Views

4 BR / 3.5 BA

Code 762

www.105FeatherstonPoint.com

WHISPERING PINES $435,000

Unique Water Front w/ Recent Upgrades

3 BR / 3 BA

Code 765

www.23ShadowDrive.com

SEVEN LAKES WEST $529,000

Lovely Water Front w/ Inviting Floor Plan

4 BR / 3 BA

Code 493

www.103VanoreRoad.com View Floor Plans and Virtual Tours of Our Listings and See ALL Moore County Listings and Community Information at

www.MarthaGentry.com

June Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

AUTHOR EVENT. 6:30 p.m. Jill Connett. The Country Bookshop. (910) 692-3211. NOVEL DESTINATIONS: Summer Reading for Adults. Southern Pines Public Library. www.sppl.net.

BROADWAY STAGE: The Importance of Being Earnest. 2 & 7:30 p.m. Sunrise Theater. www.sunrisetheater.com. ARTISTS AT WORK. 11 a.m. - 2 p.m. Hollyhocks Art Gallery. (910) 255-0665.

FIRST FRIDAY. 5 - 8:30 p.m. Live music from Shannon Whitworth. Free admission. www. firstfridaysouthernpines.com. UNCORKED: Wine Tasting. 5:30 p.m. Battle of the Pinots; Noir vs. Meniur; Gris vs. Blanc. Elliotts On Linden. www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. ART EXHIBIT & OPENING RECEPTION: Art Anonymous. 6 - 8 p.m. Campbell House Galleries, www.mooreart.org.

EDDIE BARRETT ORCHESTRA. 4 - 6:30 p.m. VFW Post, 615 S. Page Street, Southern Pines. (910) 692-3772. THEROOSTER’SWIFE CONCERTSERIES.6:45p.m. BillSheffield.TheRooster’sWife atPoplarKnightSpot.(910)9447502orwww.theroosterswife.org.

AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. Rye Barcott, It Happened On the Way to War. The Country Bookshop, (910) 692-3211 or www. thecountrybookshop.biz.

CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library. (910) 295-6022. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

OLDIES & GOODIES FILM SERIES. 2:30 - 4:30 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. AUTHOR EVENT. 4 p.m. Lee Smith. The Country Bookshop. (910) 692-3211

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THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. David Earl and the Plowshares; the Ladies’ Gun Club. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight. (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

13.

FASHION SHOW & SILENT AUCTION. 12 p.m. Country Club of North Carolina. (910) 295-4790. SCC JAZZ BAND OUTDOOR CONCERT. 6:30 p.m. Sandhills Community College. (910) 692-7966.

14.

SUMMER READING PROGRAM EVENT. 11 a.m. Southern Pines Public Library. (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. Ellyn Bache. The Country Bookshop. (910) 692-3211.

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SUMMER READING CLUB: Band of Bookies. 11 a.m. Southern Pines Public Library. (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library. (910) 295-6022.

16.

PINEHURST LIVE AFTER 5. Village of Pinehurst. (910) 295-1900. AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. Bruce Sorrie. The Country Bookshop. (910) 692-3211 or www. thecountrybookshop.biz.

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19.

UNPLUGGED WITH TOBY MAC. 5:30 p.m. Pine Needles Lodge & Golf Club. (866) 526-4653. THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. The Chatham County Line. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight. (910) 944-7502

20.

IMAGINARIUM: Dance Workshop. 10 a.m. 1 p.m. Carolina Performing Arts Center. (910) 695-7898. SUMMER THEATER CAMP. 10 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. R.E. Lee Auditorium, Pinecrest High School. (910) 692- 2787.

21.

SUMMER READING CLUB: Book Bunch. 11 a.m. (Register by June 1.) Southern Pines Public Library. (910) 692-8235 or www. sppl.net.

22.

SENIOR EVENT: Stony Mountain Vineyards Field Trip. Douglas Community Center. (910) 692-7376. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library. (910) 295-6022.

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CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library. (910) 295-6022.

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SUMMER READING PROGRAM. Moore County Public Libraries. (910) 947-5335.

JAZZ CONCERT. 7 p.m. Cardinal Ballroom, The Carolina Hotel. www.carolinaphil.org

THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Tiller’s Folly and Yarn. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

GOLF TOURNAMENT: 33rd Annual Moore County Women’s Amateur Golf Championship. National Golf Club. 9 a.m. (910) 673-3240.

111th NORTH AND SOUTH AMATEUR CHAMPIONSHIP: Played on Pinehurst No. 2. For more information on Format, Sign Up or other related data: Pinehurst Tournament Office at (910) 235-8140.

ARTISTS AT WORK. 11 a.m. - 2 p.m. Meet the artists of Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 255-0665.

NATIONAL THEATER LIVE IN HD: The Cherry Orchard. 2 p.m. Sunrise Theater. (910) 692-3611.

UNTAPPED: Beer Tasting. 5:30 p.m. Pilsner vs. Wheat. Elliotts On Linden. (910) 2953663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. JAZZY FRIDAYS. 7 - 10 p.m. Cypress Bend Vineyards & Winery, Riverton Road, Wagram. Information: (910) 369-0411. WALKING TOUR AND HIGH TEA. Space is limited. Reservations: (910) 235-8415. CLASSICS CRUISE-IN AT LEDO’S. 5 - 8 p.m. Classic Cars, Trucks and Motorcycles will cruise in at Ledo’s Pizza. Free event features door prizes, 50/50 drawing, oldies music and great food. 1480 US Hwy 1 South, Southern Pines. Information: Tom at (910) 6391494 or www.sandhillsclassicstreetrods.com.

JAZZY FRIDAYS. 7 - 10 p.m. Cypress Bend Vineyards & Winery, (910) 369-0411. MOVIE IN THE PINES. 8 p.m. Free movie in Downtown Park, Southern Pines. (910) 692-7376. MID PINES JR INVITATIONAL GOLF TOURNAMENT. Mid Pines Inn and Golf Club. (910) 692-9362.

PineStraw

June

MAGAZINE

Saturday

WEYMOUTH GARDEN TOUR. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Country Club of North Carolina. www. weymouthcenter.org. MIRA BENEFIT: 6:30 p.m. (Cocktails and Silent Auction); 7:30 p.m. (Show). Southern Pines Elks Club. (910) 944-7757. BLUE JEAN BALL. 6:30 - 11 p.m. Pinehurst Fair Barn. (910) 695-7510.

11.

HORSE COMPETITION. Spring T.R.E.C. Competition. 8:30 a.m. Chadbourne Farm. (910) 944-5797 or www.trec-usa.org. ROSE WINES: A lecture. Elliotts On Linden. (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. COOKING DEMO: Fresh & Fast Summer Meals. 12 & 2 p.m. Elliotts On Linden. (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com.

18.

MOM PROM: The Arc of Moore County Benefit. 6:30 p.m. Pinehurst Members Club. (910) 692-8272 or www.thearcofmoore.org. WOOF WOOF OPEN. 8:30 a.m. Golf tournament to benefit Pooch Park in the Pines. Longleaf Golf & Country Club. (910) 947-2342. COOKING DEMO: Summer Cocktails with Fresh Herbs. 12 & 2 p.m. Elliotts On Linden. (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com.

25.

CRISP SUMMER WHITES. Elliotts On Linden. (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. COOKING DEMO: Cool Summer Soups. 12 & 2 p.m. Elliotts On Linden, (910) 295-3663 or www. ElliottsOnLinden.com. SUMMER CLASSIC: NCHJA “C” Hunter/ Jumper. Carolina Horse Park. 910) 875-2074 or www.carolinahorsepark.com.

Arts & Entertainment Calendar

June 1 – 30

June 4

NOVEL DESTINATIONS: Summer Reading for Adults. In June, the Southern Pines Public Library will have multiple copies of Chocolat, written by Joanne Harris, available for checkout. After reading the novel, enjoy a free chocolate-tasting and book discussion in July, and a free screening of the movie starring Juliette Binoche, Johnny Depp and Judi Dench in August. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

RUN FOR THE LEGEND. 8 a.m. Third annual Airborne & Special Operations Museum Foundation 5k/10k Run. Sanctioned by USA Track & Field (USATF). Begins and ends on Hay Street, Fayetteville. Information and registration: www.active.com. WEYMOUTH GARDEN TOUR. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Weymouth Center presents the 8th annual Weymouth Garden Tour, featuring six gardens in the Country Club of North Carolina. Map and program book included; luncheon and presentation by a local landscape architect available for additional fee. Information and reservations: (910) 692-6261 or www.weymouthcenter.org. COOKING DEMO: Road Trip Food. 12 & 2 p.m. Simplify eating on the go, whether camping, boating or traveling. Menu: Jumpin’ Chickpeas, Spinach Brownies, B.L.A.T. Wraps. Free. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. WELLNESS WORKSHOP: Homeopathic First Aid. 1 - 3 p.m. Dr. Jessica Patella, Naturopathic and Homeopathic, will explain how to treat everything from bee stings to poison ivy. Cost: $27. Anjali Yoga Studio, 271 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3988 or www.anjalistudio.com. MIRA BENEFIT: 6:30 p.m. (Cocktails and Silent Auction); 7:30 p.m. (Show). “The Return of the Southern Hooties” features eleven men (dressed as women) performing songs, dance and monologues. Think Tootsie meets Mrs. Doubtfire on Broadway. Limited VIP Seating: $100 & $50; General Admission: $15. Southern Pines Elks Club. Information: (910) 944-7757. BLUE JEAN BALL. 6:30 - 11 p.m. Enjoy live country bands, down home barbecue buffet and refreshments. Sponsored by FirstHealth Hospice Foundation. Pinehurst Fair Barn, Pinehurst Harness Track, Route 5. Reservations: (910) 695-7510. SCREWTOP WINES. Learn the benefits of screwtop wines over the traditional and artificial cork. Wine tasting included. Free event. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com.

June 1 CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022. AUTHOR EVENT. 6:30 p.m. Jill Connett, author of The Green Plate, reminds us to not only pray for those that we see, but also the unseen, the camouflaged, who have a daily influence in our lives in her inspirational collection of prayers, Camouflage Prayers: Remembrance and Insight for Unseen Needs. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz. SUMMER READING PROGRAM: Registration Begins. “One World, Many Stories” allows students in grades K-5 to explore countries and cultures from around the globe; “You Are Here” is the teen summer reading program for rising 6th - 8th graders. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 2 SENIOR EVENT: Doughnut Day. 1 p.m. In 1937, the Salvation Army deemed June 6 “doughnut day” to raise money during the Great Depression. Enjoy something sweet from Granny’s Doughnuts. Cost: $1 (residents); $2 (non-resident). Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7376. BROADWAY STAGE: The Importance of Being Earnest. 2 & 7:30 p.m. A glorious comedy of mistaken identity, which ridicules codes of propriety and etiquette, captured live in HD and rebroadcast from the Broadway Stage. Adults: $20; Students: $10. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Tickets and information: (910) 692-3611 or www.sunrisetheater.com. ARTISTS AT WORK. 11 a.m. - 2 p.m. Meet the artists of Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 255-0665.

June 3 FIRST FRIDAY. 5 - 8:30 p.m. A family friendly community event featuring food, beverages, entertainment and live music from Shannon Whitworth. Free admission. The grassy knoll adjacent to the Sunrise Theater, Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: www.firstfridaysouthernpines.com. UNCORKED: Wine Tasting. 5:30 p.m. Battle of the Pinots; Noir vs. Meniur; Gris vs. Blanc. Tapas included. Cost: $20. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. ART EXHIBIT & OPENING RECEPTION: Art Anonymous. 6 - 8 p.m. Exhibit on display through June 24 at Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Information and schedule: (910) 692-2787 or visit www.mooreart.org. AUTHOR EVENT: Roy Blount. 7:30 p.m. Author, playwright, raconteur and aspiring musician Roy Blount Jr. will speak at Southern Pines Elementary School Auditorium on Massachusetts Ave. Admission: $10. Seating is on first-come-first-serve basis. Information: The Country Bookshop at (910) 692-3211 or Weymouth Center for the Arts and Humanities at (910) 692-6261. Key: Art

Music/Concerts

Dance/Theater

Film

June 5 EDDIE BARRETT ORCHESTRA. 4 - 6:30 p.m. Eddie Barrett and the Goodman Legacy Orchestra will perform at the VFW Post, 615 S. Page Street, Southern Pines. Cost: $5. Information: (910) 692-3772. THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Roots musician Bill Sheffield; Tampa Blue opens. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets and Information: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

June 7 AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. In his memoir, It Happened On the Way to War, UNC grad Rye Barcott recounts co-founding Carolina for Kibera, a nonprofit organization in Kenya to promote development and prevent violence, just months before being called up to serve in Bosnia, Djibouti, and Iraq as a Marine Corps officer. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

June 8 CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022.

Literature/Speakers

Fun

History

Sports

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2011

ca l e n da r PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5) to discover how opening a book can open your child’s world. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 9

JAZZY FRIDAYS. 7 - 10 p.m. Live jazz music and hors d’oeuvres, rain or shine. Admission: $10. Cypress Bend Vineyards & Winery, Riverton Road, Wagram. Information: (910) 369-0411. WALKING TOUR AND HIGH TEA. Discover the stories of Pinehurst’s history and enjoy the traditions of classic high tea at one of America’s Historic Landmarks. Cost: $25. Space is limited. Reservations: (910) 235-8415.

OLDIES & GOODIES FILM SERIES. 2:30 – 4:30 p.m. A classic 1942 comedy starring Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour. Refreshments provided. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. AUTHOR EVENT. 4 p.m. NC’s beloved Lee Smith, recipient of the Academy Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the NC Award for Literature, Southern Book Critics Circle Award, and inductee in the NC Literary Hall of Fame, presents her latest collection of stories, Mrs. Darcy and the Blue-Eyed Stranger. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz. GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. Phyllis Olsen will speak on quilting. Refreshments will follow. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022. ARTISTS AT WORK. 11 a.m. – 2 p.m. Meet the artists of Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 255-0665.

HORSE COMPETITION. Spring T.R.E.C. Competition. 8:30 a.m. Classes: Cross-Country Orienting, Obstacles, Mastery or Gaits. Pre-registration required; volunteers needed; spectators welcome. Chadbourne Farm, 131 Little Road, Hoffman. Information: Mary Harcourt at (910) 944-5797 or www.trec-usa.org. ROSE WINES: A lecture. The misconception of rose is that it’s sweet; most, in fact, are dry and flavorful. Wine tasting included. Free event. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. COOKING DEMO: Fresh & Fast Summer Meals. 12 & 2 p.m. Minimize your time in the kitchen with our fresh and fast recipes. Menu: Shaved Asparagus Pizza; Warm Corn & Cherry Tomato Salad with Grilled Shrimp; Arugula, Potato & Green Bean Salad. Free. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com.

June 10

June 11-12

UNTAPPED: Beer Tasting. 5:30 p.m. Pilsner vs. Wheat. Which is the best summer beer? Tapas included. Cost: $20. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. Key: Art

Music/Concerts

Dance/Theater

Film

June 11

LUMBER RIVER HORSE TRIALS. Three-phase competition including dressage, cross-country, and show jumping. Free for spectators. Carolina Horse Park, 2814

Literature/Speakers

Fun

History

Montrose Rd., Raeford. Information: (910) 875-2074 or www.carolinahorsepark.com.

June 12 THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. David Earl and the Plowshares; the Ladies’ Gun Club. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets and Information: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

June 13 FASHION SHOW & SILENT AUCTION. 12 p.m. Boys and Girls Homes of North Carolina’s annual benefit and luncheon to be held at the Country Club of North Carolina, Pinehurst. Cost: $35. Reservations and information: (910) 295-4790. SCC JAZZ BAND OUTDOOR CONCERT. 6:30 p.m. Lawn chairs and picnics welcome. In the event of rain, concert moves to Owens Auditorium on the SCC campus. Free. Sandhills Community College, Airport Road, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7966.

June 13 – 17 IMAGINARIUM: Dance Workshop. 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. Children ages 3 to 5 invited to explore dance, music and art through age-appropriate activities designed to harness creativity and stimulate artistic process. No previous dancing experience necessary. Cost: $175. Carolina Performing Arts Center, Southern Pines. Information and registration: (910) 695-7898 or cpac.webimaginarium.com.

June 14 SUMMER READING PROGRAM EVENT. 11 a.m. The Amazing Steve Somers will take center stage as part

Sports

90 June 2011 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

ca l e n da r of the “One World, Many Stories” summer reading program for kids grades K-5. Fly high and discover the world with magic tricks, puppets, stories and fun for the whole family. (Register by June 1). Free event. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. SENIOR EVENT: Five Wishes. 11:30 a.m. A representative from Liberty Hospice Services will give a 45-minute presentation on Healthcare Power of Attorney and Living Wills. Free event; sign up by June 1. Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7376. AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. In her novel The Art of Saying Goodbye, author Ellyn Bache tells the story of four women in a close-knit suburban development who embark on a powerful journey of transformation as they care and support a long-time neighbor who has fallen ill. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

Vacation Bible Schools

June 15 SUMMER READING CLUB: Band of Bookies. 11 a.m. Students grades 6-8 are invited; space limited to 30 club members. (Register by June 1.) Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022.

June 16 SUMMER READING CLUB: Reader Rabbits. 11 a.m. Kids grades K-2 are invited; space is limited to 30 club members. (Register by June 1.) Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. PINEHURST LIVE AFTER 5. Ad Nauseum to perform. Village of Pinehurst. Proceeds to benefit NC Food Bank. Information: (910) 295-1900. AUTHOR EVENT. 7 p.m. Bruce Sorrie, botanist for the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, presents A Field Guide to Wildflowers of The Sandhills Region: North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz. ARTISTS AT WORK. 11 a.m. - 2 p.m. Meet the artists of Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 255-0665.

June 17 CLASSICS CRUISE-IN AT LEDO’S. 5 - 8 p.m. Classic Cars, Trucks and Motorcycles will cruise in at Ledo’s Pizza. Free event features door prizes, 50/50 drawing, oldies music and great food. 1480 US Hwy 1 South, Southern Pines. Information: Tom at (910) 6391494 or www.sandhillsclassicstreetrods.com.

June 18 WOOF WOOF OPEN. 8:30 a.m. Golf tournament to benefit Pooch Park in the Pines. Cost: $80 (includes green and cart fees, lunch, favors). Longleaf Golf & Country Club. Information: Linda Hubbard at (910) 947-2342. COOKING DEMO: Summer Cocktails with Fresh Herbs. 12 & 2 p.m. How to muddle, infuse and garnish cocktails with summer fresh herbs. Menu: Lavender Martini, Rosemary Lemonade, Thyme & Cucumber Kiss, Innocent Absinthe (non-alcoholic). Free. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. Key: Art Music/Concerts History Sports

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cA l e n dA r PEACEFUL BEGINNINGS: Birth Partner Workshop. 1 - 3 p.m. An opportunity to help birthing partners feel more connected to the baby and understand how to support the birthing mom with confidence and sensitivity. Cost: $40. Anjali Yoga Studio, 271 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: Ashley at (910) 692-3988. WINES HARDEST PAIRINGS. Learn about pairing wine and food, particularly some of the harder foods to pair wine with. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www. ElliottsOnLinden.com. MOM PROM: The Arc of Moore County Benefit. 6:30 p.m. Mom or not, ladies of all walks of life are invited, encouraged to wear old or vintage prom dresses and dance the night away at the Pinehurst Members Club. Highlights include the crowning of a Prom Queen and a chance to mingle and dance with local celebrity heroes. Cost: $35 (includes heavy hors dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;oeuvres, drink and door prize ticket). Tickets, information and sponsorship opportunities: (910) 692-8272 or www.thearcofmoore.org.

June 18-19 SUMMER TIME BLUES DRESSAGE. Carolina Horse Park, 2814 Montrose Rd., Raeford. Information: (910) 692-8467 or www.carolinahorsepark.com.

celebrities and professionals provide expert teaching to campers of all levels â&#x20AC;&#x201D; beginners to advanced â&#x20AC;&#x201D; to help them reach their highest potential in athletics, spiritual growth, leadership, relational skills and the values of hard work and persistence. Hosted by Toby Mac. Cost: $995. Pine Needles Lodge & Golf Club, Southern Pines. Information: (866) 526-4653.

June 20 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 24 IMAGINARIUM: Dance Workshop. 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. Children ages 5 to 7 invited to explore dance, music and art through age-appropriate activities designed to harness creativity and stimulate artistic process. No previous dancing experience necessary. Cost: $175. Carolina Performing Arts Center, Southern Pines. Information and registration: (910) 695-7898 or cpac.webimaginarium.com. TAP MASTER CLASS. Dance Workshop for ages 11 and up. Cost: $240. Carolina Performing Arts Center, Southern Pines. Information and registration: (910) 6957898 or cpac.webimaginarium.com.

June 20-July 1

THE ROOSTERâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. The Chatham County Line; Johnny Folsom opens. The Roosterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets and Information: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

SUMMER THEATER CAMP. 10 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Arts Council of Moore County and ConnectNC.com present Summer Theatre Camp 2011 featuring School House Rock Live, Jr., R.E. Lee Auditorium, Pinecrest High School, Southern Pines. Open to ages 8 to 17, directed by Judy Osborne and Adam Faw. Audition date: June 14 at 5:30 - 8 p.m. at Pinecrest High School. Camp performance: July 1 at 6 p.m. Registration and Information: (910) 692- 2787 or www.mooreart.org.

June 19 - 23

June 21

June 19

FCA JUNIOR GOLF CAMPS. Top coaches,

SUMMER READING CLUB: Book Bunch. 11 a.m.

Kids grades 3-5 are invited; space is limited to 30 club members. (Register by June 1.) Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Information: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

June 22 SENIOR EVENT: Stony Mountain Vineyards Field Trip. Atop of Stony Mountain, this family-owned vineyard/winery provides a panoramic view of the Uwharrie Mountains and the lower Yadkin Valley. Taste wine then enjoy lunch at a local restaurant in Albemarle. Cost: $13 (residents); $26 (non-residents). Sign up by June 8. Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7376. CHILDRENâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022. GIVEN PRESENTS: Given Library and Archives 2011 Author Series. 4 p.m. New York Times best-selling author Dorothea Benton Frank will discuss her new book, Folly Beach, at the Holly Inn, Pinehurst. Frank, described by Booklist as a â&#x20AC;&#x153;master story tellerâ&#x20AC;? and by Pat Conroy as â&#x20AC;&#x153;hilarious and wiseâ&#x20AC;? is also the author of Sullivans Island and other novels set in the Carolina Low Country. Cocktail services available; snacks provided. The Country Bookshop of Southern Pines will have books for sale at the book signing. Tickets: $20 and can be purchased at the Given Memorial Library through June 20. Information: 295-6022. UNPLUGGED WITH TOBY MAC. 5:30 p.m. Dinner and concert by Christian music singer Toby Mac. Proceeds benefit FCA Junior Golf Camp scholarships. Cost: $70. Pine Needles Lodge & Golf Club, Southern Pines. Information and sponsorship opportunities: (866) 526-4653.

June 23

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JAZZY FRIDAYS. 7 - 10 p.m. Live jazz music and hors dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;oeuvres, rain or shine Admission: $10. Cypress Bend Vineyards & Winery, Riverton Road, Wagram. Information: (910) 369-0411. MOVIE IN THE PINES. 8 p.m. Free movie in Downtown Park, Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7376.

June 24-26

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June 25 CRISP SUMMER WHITES. Taste the newest crisp white wines to arrive at the wine shop. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com. COOKING DEMO: Cool Summer Soups. 12 & 2 p.m. Cool soups are a nice alternative to salads â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and are surprisingly hearty. Menu: Chilled Avocado Soup, ThaiSpiced Watermelon Soup, Dill Gazpacho. Free. Elliotts On Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, Information: (910) 295-3663 or www.ElliottsOnLinden.com.

June 25-26 SUMMER CLASSIC: NCHJA â&#x20AC;&#x153;Câ&#x20AC;? Hunter/Jumper. Carolina Horse Park, 2814 Montrose Rd., Raeford. Information: (910) 875-2074 or www.carolinahorsepark.com.

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ca l e n da r June 26 THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Tiller’s Folly and Yarn. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets and Information: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

June 27 – 28 GOLF TOURNAMENT: 33rd Annual Moore County Women’s Amateur Golf Championship at National Golf Club. 9 a.m. Open to amateur female golfers 18 years and older. Must have an established 18-hole USGA Index and be a resident of Moore county or a member of a Moore County club. Cost: $95 (includes 2-day greens fees, cart, range balls and lunch). Information: Ginny Siedler at (910) 673-3240.

June 27 – July 1 IMAGINARIUM: Dance Workshop. 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. Children ages 8 to 10 invited to explore dance, music and art through age-appropriate activities designed to harness creativity and stimulate artistic process. No previous dancing experience necessary. Cost: $175. Carolina Performing Arts Center, Southern Pines. Information and registration: (910) 695-7898 or cpac.webimaginarium.com.

June 28 - July 2 111th NORTH AND SOUTH AMATEUR CHAMPIONSHIP: Played on Pinehurst No. 2. For more information on Format, Sign Up or other related data: Pinehurst Tournament Office at (910) 235-8140.

June 29 CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Information: (910) 295-6022.

the-artist opportunities are available. Tuesday-Friday, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., and Saturday, 1-4 p.m. (910)295-4817, www. broadhurstgallery.com. Art Gallery at the Market Place, 2160 Midland Road, Pinehurst, features original art by local artists Joan Williams, Deane Billings, Jeanette Sheehan, Mike D’Andrea, Janet Burdick, Nancy Yanchus, and Cele Bryant. Meet one of the artists Monday-Friday, 11 a.m.-2 p.m. (910)215-5963. Artist Alley features juried art and fine crafts from local and regional artists, 167 E. New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. 11 a.m.-5 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910)692-6077. Artists League of the Sandhills, located at 129 Exchange St. in historic Aberdeen. Exhibit hours are noon-3 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910)944-3979. The Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines, is open 9 a.m.-5 p.m., Monday-Friday, and every third weekend of the month from 2-4 p.m. (910)692-4356, www.mooreart.org. The Gallery at Seven Lakes, a gallery dedicated to local artists. The Gallery is open on Wednesday and Thursday each week from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. 1145 Seven Lakes Drive, The St. Mary Magdalen building. Just 9 miles from the Pinehurst Traffic Circle up 211. Hastings Gallery is located in the Katharine L. Boyd Library at Sandhills Community College, Pinehurst. Gallery hours are 7:45 a.m.-9 p.m., MondayThursday; 7:45 a.m.-5 p.m. Friday; and 8:30 a.m.-2 p.m. Saturday. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, features original artwork by local artists Diane Kraudelt, Carol Rotter, Mary Frey, Jean Frost, Sandy Scott and artist/owner Jane Casnellie. Open Monday‑Saturday 10:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. (910)255-0665, www. hollyhocksartgallery.com.

The Old Silk Route, 113 West Main St., Aberdeen specializes in Asian original art, including silk paintings, tapestries, Buddhist Thangkas and Indian paper miniatures. Open Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday 11 a.m. until 4 p.m. (910)295-2055. Seagrove Candle Company, 116 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines, showcases the arts and crafts of the Sandhills and Seagrove area. Open 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Monday, Wednesday-Saturday, (910)695-0029. SKY Art Gallery, 602 Magnolia Dr., Aberdeen, is open 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday. (910)944-9440, www.skyartgallery.com. Studio 590, located in a historic log cabin, is the working studio and gallery of artists Betty DiBartolomeo and Harry Neely. Studio 590 offers fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. Studio 590 is located by the pond in the Dowd Cabin, 590 Dowd Circle in Pinehurst South. (910)639-9404. White Hill Gallery, 407 U.S. 15-501, Carthage, offers a variety of pottery. (910)947-6100. The Downtown Gallery (inside Flynne’s Coffee Bar)is located at 115 NE Broad St. in downtown Southern Pines. Ever-changing array of local and regional art, pottery and other handmade items. (910)693-1999. Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour, located at 25 Chinquapin Road in Pinehurst, is featuring local artist Nancy Campbell. Original oil and watercolor paintings are on display inside the tea shop. Open Tuesday - Saturday 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910)255-0100, www.ladybedfords.com.

Nature Centers Sandhills Horticultural Gardens (32 acres of gardens). The Sandhills Horticultural Gardens are handicapped-accessible. Daylight hours year-round. (910)695-3882.

June 29- August 3 SUMMER READING PROGRAM. Kids ages 4 - 12 are invited to weekly reading program, “One World, Many Stories,” held in Carthage, Robbins and Vass. Information: Moore County Public Libraries at (910) 947-5335.

June 30 SENIOR EVENT: Senior Appreciation Day. 12 p.m. Fun, food and games to celebrate our older adults. Sign up by June 23. Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Information: (910) 692-7376. NATIONAL THEATER LIVE IN HD: The Cherry Orchard. 2 p.m. Zoe Wanamaker will play Madame Ranevskaya. Cost: $20. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Tickets and information: (910) 692-3611 or www.sunrisetheater.com. JAZZ CONCERT. 7 p.m. The Carolina Philharmonic kicks off its’ summer series with “I’ve Got Rhythm,” a jazz cabaret to be held in the Cardinal Ballroom of The Carolina Hotel, Pinehurst. Laura Didier, who made waves during Palustris, returns by popular demand for a concert featuring a dozen audience favorites. Sit back with your favorite beverage and enjoy. Information: www.carolinaphil.org or Box Office at (910) 687-4746.

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Art Galleries Broadhurst Gallery, 2212 Midland Rd., Pinehurst, showcases works by nationally recognized artists such as Louis St. Lewis, Lula Smith, Shawn Morin, Rachel Clearfield, Judy Cox and Jason Craighead. MeetKey: Art Music/Concerts Dance/Theater Literature/Speakers Fun History Sports

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ca l e n da r Weymouth Woods Sandhills Nature Preserve (898 acres). 1024 Ft. Bragg Road, Southern Pines. (910)692-2167. VILLAGE ABORETUM. 35 acres of land adjoining the Village Hall on Magnolia Road, Pinehurst. (910) 295-1900.

Historical Sites Bethesda Church and Cemetery. Guided tours for groups by appointment. 1020 Bethesda Road, Aberdeen. (910)944-1319. Bryant House and McLendon Cabin. Tours by appointment. (910)692-2051 or (910)673-0908. Carthage Historical Museum. Sundays, 2-5 p.m. or by appointment. Located at Rockingham and Saunders streets, Carthage. (910)947-2331. House in the Horseshoe. Open year-round. Hours vary. 288 Alston House Road (10 miles north of Carthage), Sanford. (910)947-2051. Malcolm Blue Farm and Museum. 1-4 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday. Group tours can be arranged by appointment. (910)944-7558 or (910)603-2739. North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame. 10 a.m.-2 p.m., Monday-Friday, at the Weymouth Center for Arts and Humanities, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. (910)692-6261. Shaw House Property. Open 1-4 p.m. TuesdayFriday. (910)692-2051. Tufts Archives. 9:30 a.m.-5 p.m., Monday-Friday, and 9:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. Saturday. (910)295-3642. Union Station. Open 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Located in downtown Aberdeen. (910)944-5902. Sandhills Womanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Exchange Log Cabin Open 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. (910)295-4677 To add an event, send us an e-mail at pinestraw@thepilot.com by the first of the month prior to the event.

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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T h o u g h ts f r o m T h e Ma n S h e d

A Treacherous Landing Of shredded rafts and risky decisions

By Geoff Cutler

I’ve written about this trip a couple

of times already, and I’ll probably write about it again because … well … I go on the trip every year, and in this racket, one can’t look a gift-story in the mouth. It’s about tradition, obligation and devotion. Creating new memories off old ones. It’s about death and rebirth and aging. It’s about cutting wood, fires, food and drink. Plenty of smoke and guns and friendship. We don’t see each other but once a year, but when we gather, it’s like we’ve never been apart. We pick up where we left off. Nothing changes but our receding hairlines, the deepening wrinkles on our foreheads and our failing memories. It has to be written down … or it will vanish for good. It’s almost thirty-five years now. I was just a teenager when we first started making this annual trip. There was a father then, our captain. It was his island, and he wanted to go there when it was difficult. When no one else was likely to be around. When if we got in trouble, we’d have difficulty getting help. He was an adventurer that way. He wanted us to test ourselves against the elements. So he chose November for this trip off the coast of Maine. The first year, it was pitch black as we loaded the Mako. Besides a random lobster boat or two, the only other vessel on the ocean that time of year was the North Haven Ferry. Even it had stopped running for the day as we stowed our sleeping bags, our food, our liquor, guns and chainsaws. To avoid the rocks, he and his son pored over the charts under the wavering beam of a Rayovac. We lay prone, spilling over the bow, our beams searching for the boulders they may not have identified. His father is gone now, but the tradition continues. His son is our captain. In looks and temperament, he grows more like his dad each year. He has the same unpredictable wild streak for adventure his father had before him. One year, fresh from ongoing surgeries to try to stem the brain cancer that finally took him, his father ordered us to press into a head-wind that had stopped the outboard cold. As we crested each wave, we looked straight into the storm clouds above. And then the boat slammed down, and we saw a trickle of blood ooze out from the sutures hidden under his watch cap. We mutinied at the sight, an immediate overruling by the crew, and turned the boat around. Now we have GPS. A small crowd of onlookers waiting for the ferry watched as we loaded the boat. Visibility had dropped to about 200 yards, and storm clouds were gathering overhead as we motored out of Rockland harbor. We’d about reached the lighthouse and outer Penobscot Bay when a squall whipped up out of the southwest and a bolt of lightning came down

over our bow. The boom left our ears ringing. Four college grads … our captain from Harvard … and not one of us had any idea if we were grounded or not. We spun for the dock to wait out the storm, and sipped whiskey to soothe our nerves before setting out once again. Down to about zero visibility now, but with the wind at our backs, two of us called out the lobster buoys while our navigator, intent on the GPS, yelled out: “Turn to starboard, turn to starboard.” Using three marker islands to avoid the rocks, we found open water for the final leg of the journey. All at once, Resolution Island appeared out of the mist. But just as it did, the wind picked up dramatically. With the seas running sideways to the shore, we knew we’d have to ram the boat up on the beach in order to hold her steady long enough to unload. Two of us jumped out with a stern line, and lying down with our boots buried in the rocks, we struggled to hold the boat perpendicular to the shore while the other two hurled stuff out onto the beach. With most, but not all our provisions out, our captain bellowed that he had to abort the landing and back out immediately. Waves had been crashing over the stern during the unloading process. With the engine’s prop barely beneath the water’s surface, he gunned the big Yamaha repeatedly, a wicked revving, until the hull grudgingly came loose from the rocky shore. He circled for a bit to drain some of the water and moved onto the mooring. The rest of us were catching our breath and beginning to move stuff up the cliff-side stairway and back to our cabins when we looked out to the Mako and saw our captain holding up what was left of the landing raft. In our frenzy to unload, we’d apparently caught the outer pontoon with chainsaw teeth, ripping a 3-inch gash in the once sturdy little craft. We were in trouble. On shore, we wracked our college minds to try to figure out an alternate way to get our captain in. Options included landing the Mako once again on the lee side of the island and then paying the boat back out on a line as far as it would go, lash it to a tree or rock, and hope the wind didn’t change. Another was for our captain to make for his family’s summer place on North Haven, and return the following day with a new raft. We yelled that option out to him, and over the wind, we could just hear him yell back, “No $&*^@% way!” The next thing, he was climbing over the side of the Mako and getting into what was left of the shredded raft. Inner pontoons only, he started paddling a thing about the size of a small wash basin. Were he to have capsized, it would have been into thirty-eight degree water. Survivability? Questionable at best. He missed the beach with the sideways wind, but caught the island before it ran out. We shook our heads in disbelief. Glad to have our captain safely ashore, we said that what he’d done was the craziest move we’d ever seen. And later, sitting around the fire, I pondered what his father would have done in the same predicament. It wasn’t a lengthy ponder because I quickly realized, he’d have done exactly the same thing. PS Geoff Cutler is owner of Cutler Tree LLC in Southern Pines. He is a regular contributor to both The Pilot and PineStraw. He can be reached at geoffcutler@embarqmail.com.

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(may 22 - June 21) Ah la vache, mon poupée. Pardon my french, Sweet Cheeks, but you’re in for a month that’s hairier than the inside of Larry King’s sneezer . Though the new moon will have you questioning your core on the 1st, rest assured that nothing’s set in stone . (Still, when in doubt, carry a chisel .) By the middle of the month, mercury will have you brewing up an idea that’s about as bright as frying bacon in the nude . Like mama always said, the world is your oyster, mon chou . whether it’s fried, deviled or smothered in Tabasco is up to you .

Cancer (June 22 - July 23)

You must be bored out of your gourd with that routine of yours, Ham Bone. Do yourself a favor and get lost on the 1st of the month. Seriously, Hon. A little spontaneity ain’t going to turn your worm. If you can learn to let things go, your imagination is liable to run wilder than a March hare by the 7th. Let it, Poopsy, even if life becomes dicier than a Spam sandwich by the middle of the month. Although you’d sooner watch paint dry than address relationship issues, keep in mind: What’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Leo (July 23 - Aug. 23)

As you go through life, two rules must never bend: Never whittle toward yourself or pee against the wind. For that matter, keep your words soft and sweet too, Cake Face. Like it or not, you’ll be eating them on the 3rd. Oh, and try not to get your knickers in a knot on the 13th when Mercury has you feeling useless as a bent screw. Sure enough, you can’t fix everything, Sweetie. Bless your heart. You’re fixing to be more confused than a Junebug in July. I just hope for your sake fuzzy logic doesn’t tickle. Virgo (Aug. 24 - Sept. 23)

I’d sooner chew sand than swap shoes with you this month, Toots. No offense. Though you’re itchy as a flea-bitten pup for a taste of something new, it’d sure help if you had the faintest clue as to what you want. When Jupiter enters your sign on the 4th, play close attention to the signs life provides — the direction of the wind says more than a Chinese fortune cookie sometimes. And don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself on the 26th, Sugar. Spit happens as is. There’s certainly no need to go recruiting more of it. Libra (Sept. 24 - Oct. 23)

I declare. You’ve got the patience of a peanut, Pumpkin. Good thing, too. You’ll need it on the 2nd when life just about turns bass akwards. On the 18th, Venus will have you wound tighter than a cymbal-banging monkey. Kick off your shoes and relax, Ham Hock. Unnecessary stress is no less appealing than swapping spit with kin. Oh, and if you must choose between two evils on the 22nd, pick the one you’ve never tried before. Actions speak louder than words … unless, of course, you plumb shout. Scorpio (Oct. 24 - Nov. 22)

Don’t be so open-minded your brains fall out, Bean Stalk. That said, you’ve got a lot of choices to make this month, Lord love you. Though you’re happy as the day is long on the 8th, keep in mind: Blind optimism can be reckless as a bull in a china shop. I say can your fantasies and face the music on the 9th if you know what’s good for you. Of course, I’d sooner watch paint dry than be in your shoes at the end of the month. A big change is looming, Peanut. But don’t sweat it. You’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. Sagittarius (Nov. 23 - Dec. 21)

Ever stop to think and forget to start again? Hate to break it to you, Sweet Cheeks, but that butter ain’t going to spread this month. With Mercury shifting into your sign on the 2nd, you’ll need to stay focused for a spell if you care anything about getting others to hear you out. Oh, and try not to let your expectations rise higher than you can swat a fruit fly, would you?

Otherwise, be prepared to find yourself in a situation that’s stickier a used hanky. Heaven help you, Ham Bone. You’re at the end of the beans. Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 20)

Well can my yams. You’re hotter than Carolina asphalt this month, Sunshine. With the grace of the new moon on the 1st, you’ve got the gumption to face whatever the wind blows your way. Just remember, Pudding, as you sow so shall you reap. With Neptune as your muse, the sky’s the limit on the 15th. You’re fit as a butcher’s dog to reach your dreams, don’t you forget it — so long as you don’t try to teach your grandma to suck eggs. Aquarius (Jan. 21 - Feb. 19)

You can’t make omelets without breaking eggs, Pickle. You know that. With change heading your way faster than you can say Bob’s your uncle, you’d be wise to hang tight lest you have no future plans to prosper. As they say: Rome wasn’t built in a day. Oh, and don’t take yourself so cotton-picking seriously on the 9th, Hon. Sometimes you’ve got to put a little pepper in the gumbo. Just don’t let your mouth overload your rump at the end of the month. Nothing is certain but death and taxes, Toots. Pisces (Feb. 20 - March 20)

Life’s not all beer and skittles, Sweetie, though it sure is nice to think so sometimes. When Venus enters your sign on the 9th, consider it high time to step out of your shell — even if you’d sooner drink dishwater than do so. You’re liable to find yourself in more jeopardy than Alex Trebek’s bowels after a corned beef brisket if you’re not willing to speak what’s on your mind. Trust me, Hon, you’ll be pleased as punch at the month’s end if you play your cards right. The proof is in the pudding. You’ll see soon enough. Aries (March 21 - April 20)

I’ll tell you like my mama told me: What can’t be cured must be endured. That said, when life has you feeling lower than a worm’s belly in a wagon rut on the 6th, can it and screw the moose! I swear, Child, sometimes you’re as self-righteous as a street corner preacher. Let a bright idea simmer on the 16th before broadcasting it to the wider world — a little shuteye can be as refreshing as a second opinion. Oh, and on the 21st, have heart, Dear. Big oaks from little acorns grow. Taurus (April 21 - May 21)

Cut the thistles in May, they’ll grow in a day; cut them in June, that is too soon — or too late, in your case. Although you’re more bent out of shape than a plastic spoon after a trip through the steam cycle on the 2nd, keep the faith, Dumpling. Jupiter will have you distracted from life’s queries by the middle of the month. The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, so keep your eyes peeled on the 17th for a sign — figurative, literal or otherwise. For what it’s worth, it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission. PS

Astrid Stellanova, 58, owned and operated Curl Up and Dye Beauty Salon in Windblow, NC, for many years until arthritic ﬁngers and her popular astrological readings opened up a new career path. Feel free to contact Astrid for insights on your personal stars or hair advice for any occasion at astridstellanova@rocketmail.com.

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Modern Family

As parenthood looms, it really takes a village to raise child

By L aurie Birdsong

Just like other parents

reigning on parallel planets as World’s No. 1 Mom and No. 1 Dad, my superlative mother and father deserve superior marks on their respective parent-honoring Sundays this year. After all, the two individuals who spent my upbringing caulking my self-esteem with daily superlatives should have a few sent in their direction at least once a calendar year.

It’s possible I’m more attuned to Mother’s and Father’s Day this spring because of our own household’s hope of becoming parents in the near-term. We try our best not to get caught up in the entitled mindset that we are divined parents to be. Nonetheless, we’ve readied ourselves for a broader definition of family and have discovered our own anticipation through observing the joy of raising children experienced by our peers. Whether human or canine, kids are in the cards for us, the keen boundary between parenting one’s own versus caretaking another’s children has always intrigued me. A parent assumes full-fledged facilitation of a child’s life experience, yet collectively bringing a child along in the world takes a proverbial village. We’ve all pitched in to keep a child on the right path as villagers, albeit as a coach, a teacher, or even a designated hawk eye who babysits while a parent’s back is turned. A parent may rear a child as a purposeful being in his own likeness, yet the villager’s obligation to a child simply seems interpretative. Such is the case with my parents turned villager grandparents. In the years since paying their disciplinarian dues raising children, my parents have willingly pitched in as occasional caretakers of my brother’s children. As benevolent villagers, my parents conspicuously apply a Diet Coke, one-calorie version of structure from their own child-rearing days to grandparenting. Steering clear of blood pressure-raising discipline, they embrace the company of their grandchildren and ingrain in these impressionable cherubs their most unalienable of rights as cute kids ... the pursuit of happiness. My father worked on teeth for a living, and he periodically challenged

me and my brother when we were young to earn ten dollars by going without sugar for a week. Hoodwinked as kids into adopting a hybrid value of honesty mixed with a guilty conscience, we endured those seven-day stretches without a trace of Twix bars, Cokes, cake slices or ice cream in our systems. Fast-forward twenty years to a kitchen table gathering of our family’s grandchild adulation committee around my oneyear-old niece on her first Easter. As she fingered a foil-covered Cadbury egg in her basket, my father held it up to her for closer examination. A full-on enabler’s grin crept over my dad as shiny foil gave way to chocolate that found its way to little Emma’s fingers and mouth within seconds. In days gone by, our loving, yet righteous patriarch condemned evidence of refined sugars at the dinner table. As a grandfather, he morphed into the guilty villager who introduced his own grandchild to chocolate. Thirty-plus years removed from a more robust age of raising young children, my parents have also discovered their boundaries as villagers when caretaking young grandchildren becomes too taxing. Several years ago, my then two- and four-year-old niece and nephew spent a week with my parents while my brother and sister-in-law went on vacation with friends. The kids descended on my parents’ house “getting over” bronchitis. For the next five days, my instantly infected parents took turns napping off fevers, sapping their already-sapped reserves of babysitting energy, and turning several food-bearing friends away from a front door that should’ve been painted with a red X. Somewhere in there, my mother also caught pink eye from my niece. When my father declared he and my mother would “never again” agree to babysit their own grandchildren if nasty contagion were a prospect, it made sense. After all, my aging parents have to pump vitamins, take their doctor’s advice, and sleep like teenagers to stay well, and they are not obligated to jeopardize their health at the hands of their own grandchildren. At this stage in life, my parents are true villagers. I can thank them not only for the example they’ve set for me and my brother as parents, but also for the way they’ve grandparented with reasonable boundaries. By helping me grasp the fundamental commitment that an individual makes to a child by bringing one into the world, they’ve instilled a cornerstone of parenting in me a whole generation removed from their own years of raising kids. PS Laurie Birdsong is a regular contributer to PineStraw magazine. Illustration by Pamela Powers January

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