June 2013 PineStraw by PineStraw Magazine

COMING

THE CROWN...

June 1-2............Gun & Knife Show 1.............. Linda Kinlaw’s Annual Spring Recital 2.............. Charlotte Blume’s Spring Festival of Dance 5-7............Cumberland County Schools Graduations 9.............. WWE Live! 14............. Ladies’ Night Out 15.............Charity Comedy Show with Michael Blackson 15.............SummerFest 2013 feat. Meek Mill

July 5...............Night With the Olympians: ESPN Friday Night Fights 12.............Montgomery Gentry 28.............Disney Junior Live on Tour! Pirate and Princess Adventure

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Where life just keeps getting better. Southern Pines, North Carolina • www.sjp.org • 910.246.1008 A member of the St. Joseph of the Pines Aging Services Network continuing the legacy of the Sisters of Providence.

June 2013 Volume 8, No. 6

Features

49 Blackberry Road

Poetry by Kathryn Stripling Byer

50 The Long Run

By Ashley Wahl

The living legacy of Coach Jeff Moody

54 Alaskan Madness

By Elizabeth C. Lyerly

Local vet Elizabeth Lyerly’s great adventure at the famed Iditarod sled dog race

71 June Almanac

By Noah Salt

The marrying month, Latin for plant lovers, and Mrs. Dodds’ gift to dads

Departments

7 Sweet Tea Chronicles Jim Dodson 10 PinePitch 15 Cos and Effect Cos Barnes 17 The Omnivorous Reader Stephen E. Smith

21 25 27 31 32 35

Bookshelf Hitting Home

Dale Nixon

The Kitchen Garden Vine Wisdom

Jan Leitschuh

Robyn James

The Evolving Species Sundi McLaughlin

Postcard From Paris

Christina Klug

37 39 41 45 72 83

Out of the Blue Birdwatch

Deborah Salomon

Susan Campbell

The Sporting Life

Tom Bryant

Golftown Journal Lee Pace Calendar SandhillSeen The Accidental Astrologer

Astrid Stellanova

Thoughts From the Man Shed Geoff Cutler

95 96

PineNeedler SouthWords

Mart Dickerson Jane Borden

Cover photograph by Cassie Butler 2

June 2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

New Spring & Summer

Collections

The DUX速 BeD | heADBoArDs | ACCessorIes FINe LINeNs | DowN

DUXIANA at The Mews 280 NW Broad Street | Downtown Southern Pines

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DUXIANA at Cameron Village 400 Daniels Street | Raleigh, NC 27605

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at The Mews 280 NW Broad Street Downtown Southern Pines

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at Cameron Village 400 Daniels Street Raleigh, NC 27605

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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

Cassie Butler, Photographer, Graphic Designer 910.693.2464 • cassie@pinestrawmag.com

Kira Schoenfelder, Graphic Designer 910.693.2508 • kira@pinestrawmag.com

Lauren Shumaker, Graphic Designer 910.693.2469 • lauren@pinestrawmag.com

Brianna Rolfe Cunningham, Graphic Design Intern Editorial Contributors

Deborah Salomon, Staff Writer Stephen E. Smith, Staff Writer David C. Bailey, Copy Editor Sara King, Proofreader, Mary Novitsky, Proofreader Contributing Photographers

Tim Sayer, John Gessner Contributors

Cos Barnes, Jane Borden, Tom Bryant, Kathryn Stripling Byer, Susan Campbell, Geoff Cutler, Mart Dickerson, Robyn James, Christina Klug, Jan Leitschuh, Elizabeth C. Lyerly, Meridith Martens, Sundi McLaughlin, Dale Nixon, Lee Pace, Jeanne Paine, Noah Salt, Astrid Stellanova, Ashley Wahl

PS David Woronoff, Publisher Advertising Sales

Jennifer Bowles, 910.693.2511 Terry Hartsell, 910.693.2513 Kerry Hooper, 910.693.2489 Perry Loflin, 910.693.2514 Peggy Marsh, 910.693.2516 Darlene McNeil-Smith, 910.693.2519 Meagan Powell, 910.693.3569 Johnsie Tipton, 910.693.2515 Karen Triplett, 910.693.2510 Pat Taylor, Advertising Director Advertising Graphic Design

Stacey Yongue, 910.693.2509 Mechelle Butler, Clay Culberson, Maegan Russell Circulation & Subscriptions

Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488

PineStraw Magazine

910.693.2467 173 W. Pennsylvania Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387 pinestraw@thepilot.com • www.pinestrawmag.com ©Copyright 2013. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. PineStraw magazine is published by The Pilot LLC

June 2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Floor Plans to Fit

Any Lifestyle

New Construction homes by

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The first round after a great round starts here. The Ryder Cup Lounge Just off the porch of the historic Carolina Hotel, the Ryder Cup offers a generous selection of draft beers, scotch and bourbon as well as a mouth-watering menu with

Wednesday Special

50%ff

any bottle or glass of

everything from Jumbo Lump Crabcake Sliders to Backyard Rib Stacks. So after your last putt drops, pick up a glass at the Ryder Cup.

Expires June 30, 2013. *Gratuity based on full retail.

Li v e Mu s i c Bob Redding

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Friday & Saturday Nights • Sunday Brunch

sweet tea chronicles

Two For the Road

By Jim Dodson

Later this

month my wife, Wendy, and I will celebrate our twelfth wedding anniversary and frankly I’m a little stumped what to buy her that she doesn’t already own or wouldn’t buy for herself, assuming she would ever do that.

A shopper she isn’t, which is one of her most endearing qualities for a woman of such beauty and natural elegance, especially in a modern culture that seems consumed with, well, consuming. Being a woman of few material wants, whenever she spots something she believes she needs, she simply waits it out until the price drops at least by half before she loosens the purse strings. I jokingly call her the Queen of Cheap. Two years ago, for our milestone tenth, I gave her a golden retriever puppy we decided to name Ajax after the famous Greek warrior of Trojan War fame, the suitor of Helen who was famous for his monumental strength and size. We guessed by the size of his paws that junior might someday be a brute, too. Ajax the Wonder Dog now weighs close to 100 pounds and spends his days lounging on couches and armchairs like a victorious Greek prince waiting for Helen of Troy to feed him grapes. He also follows his mistress everywhere, waiting for her to feed him anything remotely edible, usually carrying something of mine in his mouth as spoils of his conquest. Slippers, dress shoes, even books from my desk have ended up in his jaws, spirited away in some kind of cruel game. I’ve taken to calling him Ajax the Wonder Dog because it’s something of a wonder that either of us has survived his first two years. Anyway, at a time of tightened belts and enforced household budgeting everywhere but on Wall Street, my bride’s style and frugality are godsends and a source of inspiration to me. For one thing, I’ve ceased buying anything new if at all possible, preferring everything from gently used furniture from consignment shops to second-hand clothes from our local Episcopal jumble shop. When I look back on our married life, I realize that even our wedding

was a model of tasteful frugality. We got hitched on a warm morning in late June — what would have been my parents’ sixty-first wedding anniversary, as it happens — in the backyard garden of the house I built on a coastal hill in Maine, with only a handful of close friends and family present, small kids and dogs included. It poured rain for a solid hour before the service, delaying things a wee bit, which no one seemed to mind terribly since everyone simply sat on the porch drinking wine and eating my wife’s fabulous brunch, enjoying the much needed rain and fellowship. Eventually the rain stopped, the sun bobbed out, and we traipsed out to the garden and got the deed done with a minimum of fuss. Then came the cake, homemade by the bride, which vanished quicker than cool rain on a hot sidewalk. After this we all went to the beach for the afternoon, then home for a supper on the lawn and whiffle ball until the fireflies came out. Looking back, it might have been the perfect summer wedding. Then again, I was in my middle 40s and didn’t require hot air balloons and a hundred handbell ringers to mark the occasion. Twenty Junes ago my first wife and I attended a friend’s wedding at the former Rockefeller estate on the Hudson that featured handbells and a full cathedral choir followed by a lavish sit-down dinner and Tiffany gifts for 700 guests under canvas, three orchestras, a dozen ice sculptures, a roving sketch artist and a hot air balloon meant to carry the happy couple away over the Hudson at dusk. As they rose from the Robber Baron splendor of their wedding, eerily recalling the Great Oz in his balloon, the bride wept and flung flower petals to the crowd while the pale groom clutched the basket and looked as if he might be trying to decide between throwing up and jumping into the Hudson to escape. Dating from medieval times and even earlier in Roman culture, as our crack Almanac editor notes this month, June — named for the Roman goddess Juno, queen of marriage and children — was the preferred marrying month

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

sweet tea chronicles a

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simply because a bride made pregnant by June’s end could deliver a baby and be sufficiently recovered enough to return to the fields at harvest time a year or so later. Modern brides like it because June is the month with the longest hours of sunlight and often a month when family schedules are more flexible. Having said this, the month of October recently replaced June as the preferred month for getting hitched, since bringing in the harvest rarely applies to the dynamics of modern marriage. Knowing something’s real and lasting value — including the character and material wants of a potential mate — is something that requires time and patience and sometimes no shortage of personal experience and emotional pain to acquire. During America’s formative frontier years, a talent for frugal living off the land — using it up and making do, as they like to say up in Maine — was essential for survival not just of marriage but whole communities. Over the past few years, I recently read, home weddings and home births have both enjoyed a major revival, especially among so-called millennials, born after 1980, estimated at 80 million strong, the largest generation of Americans in history. One reason trendwatchers give for this social sea change is the simple economics. Having lived through two wars and a major economic crisis that shows no sign of ending anytime soon, many toting outrageous college debts to boot, the soaring costs of weddings and hospital births strike many millennials as unneeded extravagance. If a generation nursed into adulthood on Facebook and Twitter shows unmistakable signs of heightened narcissism and entitlement, is a wee bit lazy and attends church far less than their parents, among this group’s more encouraging traits is the fact that they possess few if any of their forebears’ costly hang-ups about race, creed or sexual preference, work splendidly in groups, and see life as far more than just making money to pay for a better house in the suburbs and expensive toys. In fact, data shows they possess a penchant for digging in and living more frugally than any other group before them, concerned about the consequences of ballooning personal and national debt, displaying an absence of material wants that has some marketers scrambling to figure out how to sell them BMWs and membership in the country club. As a group, tellingly, millennials have less household credit card debt than any generation on record. Meanwhile, they’re out there starting up online magazines and e-businesses out the wazoo, filling the blogosphere with new ideas galore, challenging convention and reshaping their world on the cheap, a grassroots revolution my baby boomer wife, the Queen of Cheap, has been predicting for years.

June 2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

sweet tea chronicles

She’s actually the world’s oldest secret millennial, I’ve decided — a 51-year-old college administrator who’s as savvy about social media as any 20-year-old with an iPhone, a whiz who can get more done in a half hour on her beloved tablet than an army of efficiency experts could do in an entire afternoon, surfing the Net like a gal to the Starbucks born. Saving valuable time may be the Queen of Cheap’s greatest economy of all. Which brings me back to my new millennial gift dilemma, what to do about that un-purchased anniversary present for a woman who needs or wants nothing that can’t be made, borrowed or at least bought at half price. On a lark I consulted an anniversary gift guide and discovered that the “traditional” twelfth anniversary gift calls for a trip to Japan or at least something in silk, which prompted me to spend some quality time perusing the latest Victoria Secret catalog at lunch while eating sushi. The “modern” gift for the twelfth is supposed to be either linen or pearls, which raises the stakes a bit to either a new summer dress from Ann Taylor or a string of pearls, the former I would never attempt to buy on my own, the latter she already owns — her grandmother’s, I believe. This leaves only the trip to Japan and maybe taking her out to supper to mark the occasion of our twelve remarkably happy (rewardingly frugal) years as man and wife. Forget Japan. Too far. Too expensive. Just don’t have the yen to go. But even getting her out to a nice dinner spot may prove a challenge this June because we’re renting our first vacation house at the beach in five years this July, and getting all our grown-up kids together before they scatter into the blogosphere. My bride is already deep into efficiently planning the perfect family getaway like a Pentagon accountant going to war. In the end, I may just give the Queen of Cheap a nice bottle of French wine, rub her feet, and promise to take her back to France, where we once spent a delightful fortnight roaming the streets Paris and the countryside of Picardy like Finney and Hepburn in Two for the Road, a cinematic tribute to love on the cheap. For two glorious weeks we lived on wine, roasted chestnuts and good crusty bread, and at the top of the Eiffel Tower I presented her with an engagement ring I had bought only moments before from a street vendor down below, setting me back 12 whole francs. It was the best vacation we ever had, and the moment, she claims, I won her heart forever. PS

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Contact editor Jim Dodson at Jim@pinestrawmag.com

On the Same Page

The Country Bookshop in downtown Southern Pines brings written words to life with an event-filled month: June 8, 10 a.m.: Coffee and snacks with Mary Kay Andrews, author of Ladies’ Night. June 12, noon: The Time Between by Karen White. Ticketed event with book and luncheon by Southern Whey at Weymouth Center included. Admission: $35 June 13, 4:30 p.m.: Charles Lovett, author of The Bookman’s Tale, discusses how a mysterious portrait ignites an antiquarian bookseller’s search through time for Shakespeare’s lost love. June 18, noon: Dorothea Benton Frank, author of The Last Original Wife, best-known for Sullivan’s Island. Ticketed event at Weymouth Center includes luncheon and book. Admission: $37. June 18, 6 p.m.: Jim Dodson and Don Snyder, Walking with Jack. Dynamic authors of father-son golf books discuss the bond between father, son and the game. Ticketed event, book included. Location TBA. June 19, 5:30 p.m.: Rebecca Lee, author of Bobcat and Other Stories, creates a full world in each story, which reads like a mini-novel. Her characters are wonderfully flawed, driven by their desires, compelled to make sense of the human condition. Lee is an associate professor of creative writing at UNC Wilmington.

Free for the Watching

Converge on Downtown Park in Southern Pines with lawn chairs, blankets and bug spray for a free showing of The Amazing Spider-Man at 8:30 p.m. on June 14 (rain date June 21). Food for sale by Cold Stone Creamery, Rita’s and Hot Dog Joan’s. Information: (910) 692-7376 or www.southernpines.net/ recreation

Happy Campers

The Arts Council of Moore County hosts a summer theater camp for children in rising grades three-nine, June 17-28. This year’s production will be Disney’s Camp Rock: The Musical, the story of, just imagine, competing summer camps. Color wars, anybody? Participants will be involved in all aspects of production, onstage and off. Camp will be held at STARS Charter School in Vass, with the finished production presented at Pinecrest High School. Tuition $235—$260. Information: (910) 692-2787 or www.mooreart.org

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

(Pottery) Country Cuzzins

Campbell House Galleries in Southern Pines will feature the pottery of cousins Chad Brown, Mack Chrisco and Chris Luther, June 7—28, with opening reception from 6 – 8 p.m., June 7. Brown made his first pot at age 5. Since then he has refined his technique, specializing in wood firing that produces a rustic appearance. Luther descends from a founding family of Seagrove potters; Chrisco says he believes in making a pot that looks good, feels good and holds good, “… something that’s not going to knock you down when you look at it but it ain’t going to hurt you to look at it all day ... something that a man can go home and drink a cup of coffee out of.” Information: (910) 692-2787

Movie Magic

A second freebie happens at 9 p.m. on June 21 at Village Arboretum in Pinehurst, when Rise of the Guardians fills the silver screen. Come early to this one for face painting and games — also hot dogs, popcorn, drinks and candy for purchase. Information: (910) 295-0166.

A Tournament to Remember

Alzheimer’s North Carolina announces its first golf tournament on June 28 at Whispering Pines Country Club. ALZNC provides education, support and services to people with dementia and their families, also funding for research into the cause and treatment. All contributions remain in N.C. The shotgun captain’s choice game begins at 1 p.m. Entrance fee of $75 includes golf, cart, range balls for practice and dinner. Dinner alone: $25. Hole sponsorships available. Information and reservations: (910) 692-9609 or info@ outreachnc.com

The Second First Friday

On June 7 from 5 — 8:30 p.m., American Aquarium will entertain whoever drops by the grassy knoll adjacent to the Sunrise Theater in Southern Pines. This familyfriendly event is free. Food and beverages may be purchased — or bring a picnic. Information: (910) 692-8501 or www.firstfridaysouthernpines.com PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

www.prudentialpinehurst.com

Whispering Pines Cottage

The finest interpretation of Old Town Pinehurst. Exquisite updates. 4BR/3.5BA. $1,695,000 Text T860694 to 85377

Maureen Clark 910.315.1080

Ampersand Cottage

Charming Victorian! Beautifully updated, preserved and maintained. 4BR/4.5BA. $1,100,00 Text T514437 to 85377

Bettye Marcum 910.603.2686

Better Than New

Classic Elegance! Everything 1st Class! 1.4 Acres. 3 Bdrms, 4.5 Baths. Gorgeous! $879,900 Text T946229 to 85377

Pat Wright 910.691.3224

Weymouth Heights

Experience elegance & grandeur in this lovely Southern Pines home! 4BR/4.5BA. $610,000 Text 1016828 to 85377

Debbie Darby 910.783.5193

Liscombe Lodge

Charming cottage restored with quality, elegance and exquistie detail inside & out. 4BR/4BA. $1,350,000 Text T577918 to 85377

Emily Hewson 910.315.3324

Edgewood Cottage

Vintage Dutch Colonial loaded with Old Town Pinehurst charm. 4BR/4.5BA. $1,100,000 Text T11599 to 85377

Eva Toney 910.638.0972

Timeless Elegance

Designed for the most discerning buyer. Meticulous attention to detail. 4BR/3BA. $849,000 Text T1001608 to 85377

Donna Chapman 910.783.6061

Old Town Pinehurst

Masterfully designed for privacy and enjoyment of the natural setting. 3BR/3BA. $599,000 Text T443874 to 85377

Maureen Clark 910.315.1080

Log on to www.prudentialpinehurst.com FOR OUR Easy Search or Snap & Search with our FREE APP on your Smart Phone 910.295.5504 Pinehurst | 910.692.2635 Southern Pines

Linden Trails

Horses welcomed! Stunning residence with rich architectural details. 3BR/3.5BA. $1,200,000 Text T965832 to 85377

Maureen Clark 910.315.1080

Fairwoods on 7

Designed to capture natural light and marvelous golf course views. 3BR/3+BA. $1,050,000 Text T1021847 to 85377

Maureen Clark 910.315.1080

Shows Like a Model

Gorgeous Pinewild Home! Gourmet Ktchn, Liv. Rm, Grand Carolina Rm. 4BR/4.5BA. $699,000 Test T11618 to 85377

Pat Wright 910.691.3224

Old Town Pinehurst

Architectural masterpiece inside and out! Nestled on .50+ acre lot. 4 Bdrms, 4 Baths. $598,000 Text T390878 to 85377

Eva Toney 910.638.0972

Get the free mobile app at http://gettag. mobi

ÂŠ2012 BRER Affiliates Inc. An independently owned and operated broker member of BRER Affiliates, Inc. Prudential, the Prudential logo and the Rock symbol are registered service marks of Prudential Financial, Inc. and its related entities, registered in many jurisdictions worldwide. Used under license with no other affiliation with Prudential. Equal Housing Opportunity.

Rooster’s Roster Missy Raines and the New Hip

June is busting out all over at The Rooster’s Wife on Knight Street in Aberdeen. Doors open at 6 p.m., shows at 6:46 p.m. June 2: Missy Raines and the New Hip, Casey Dreissen

Doug and Telisha Williams

June 9: Doug and Telisha Williams, Daniel Smith opens June 16: Red Clay Ramblers, Cackalacky Sisters open June 23: Robin and Linda Williams June 30: The Rigney Family and Laurelyn Dossett Information: (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org

Robin and Linda Williams

The Rigney Family

Pinemere

Live like you’re on vacation year round! Waterfront on Lake Pinechurst. 3BR/2BA. $575,000 Text T926513 to 85377

Bonnie Baker 910.690.4705

Weymouth Heights

One of a kind! Charming, magical 1929 cottage with fenced back yard. Owner/Broker. $375,000 Text T734418 to 85377

Penny Stuckey 910.315.1144

Budding Artists.

Sandhills Community College art professor Denise Baker inspires and leads her students in fascinating directions. The results — drawings, paintings, digital photo art, screenprints, woodblock — made by fortyfive students are on display, and for sale, at the annual Student Art Exhibit, which opens with a meet-the-artists reception from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. on May 1 at Boyd Library/ Hastings Gallery. The exhibit is free and runs through July 31. Information: (910) 692-6185

Red Gables

Magnificent heart pine cathedral beamed ceiling. Garden patio. 4BR/2.5BA. $499,000 Text T1053679 to 85377

Emily Hewson 910.315.3324

Welcome Home

Soaring ceilings, gleaming hardwood & attention to detail! Delightful home! 4BR/3.5BA. $335,000 Text T512512 to 85377

Donna Chapman 910.783.6061

Log on to www.prudentialpinehurst.com FOR OUR Easy Search or Snap & Search with our FREE APP on your Smart Phone 910.295.5504 Pinehurst | 910.692.2635 Southern Pines

Doral Woods

Exquisite upgrades in this custom, all brick home overlooking Course #1. 3BR/2.5BA. $495,000 Test T566908 to 85377

Eva Toney 910.638.0972

Downtown Southern Pines

High Ceilings, hrdwd floors, fabulous open ktchn w/granite & appliances included! $198,000 Text T1037703 to 85377

Mav Hankey 910.603.3589

Get the free mobile app at http://gettag. mobi

©2012 BRER Affiliates Inc. An independently owned and operated broker member of BRER Affiliates, Inc. Prudential, the Prudential logo and the Rock symbol are registered service marks of Prudential Financial, Inc. and its related entities, registered in many jurisdictions worldwide. Used under license with no other affiliation with Prudential. Equal Housing Opportunity.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

The Country Bookshop’s

Upcoming Author Events: Saturday, June 8 at 10:00 a.m.

140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines (910) 692-3211

Mary Kay Andrews

Ladies’ Night Coffee and morning snacks as we welcome Mary Kay Andrews to the store!

Wednesday, June 12 at 12:00 p.m.

Karen White

The Time Between

Thursday, June 13 at 4:30 p.m.

Charles Lovett

Ladies Luncheon at Weymouth provided by Southern Whey. Karen White is returning to Southern Pines with her latest summer read. Audiences will also receive a copy of Karen’s book. Tickets are $35 and available at The Bookshop.

The Bookman’s Tale

Tuesday, June 18 at 12:00 p.m.

Guaranteed to capture the hearts of everyone who truly loves books, The Bookman’s Tale is a former bookseller’s sparkling novel and a delightful exploration of one of literature’s most tantalizing mysteries.

Dorothea Benton Frank

The Last Original Wife

Tuesday, June 18 at 6:00 p.m.

Please join us for a luncheon with special guest Dorothea Benton Frank at Weymouth. Tickets are $37, available at The Country Bookshop and include lunch and a copy of her new book.

Jim Dodson & Jack Snyder

Wednesday, June 19 at 5:30 p.m.

Rebecca Lee

We will have two dynamos with two of the greatest father-son golf books to date in the same room talking about both the game and the bond between father and son. James Dodson and Jack Snyder. Ticketed dinner event, books included.

Bobcat and Other Stories Please join us for Bite Sized Fiction with Rebecca Lee. Using a range of landscapes and countries, Lee creates full worlds, so that each story reads like a short novel.

Cut me out and put me on the fridge!

C o s a n d E f f ect

The Other Cos Barnes What’s in a name? Sometimes it just sticks

Cos Barnes By Cos Barnes

Several years ago I was a hostess at

a house and garden tour sponsored by the Southern Pines Garden Club. I was situated on the porch of a glorious house in Pinehurst and was delighted to see an acquaintance from Whispering Pines and her group as early attendees.

We hugged, made introductions all around, chatted a bit, then they were on their way. The day wore on, and that afternoon I visited the other homes on the tour. I was surprised at the last home I visited when the hostess there, a woman new to the community but one I had met earlier, said to me, “There was another Cos Barnes here. Do you know her?” I did not argue with her, although I knew nobody else had my crazy name. Weeks later, I saw the Whispering Pines friend. “Have I a story for you,” she laughed, then proceeded to tell me that on the day of the garden tour when she hugged me, my name tag had stuck to her shoulder. None of her friends mentioned it all day, so she was unaware she was Cos Barnes for a day. Mine is such a weird moniker, I was surprised some years back when I received a letter from a Cos Davis. He wrote for a Baptist publication that I also wrote for. He was almost indignant when he asked where my name came from. He had a whole line of relatives named Cos in his family tree. I assured him it was a nickname and that I had given it to none of my children nor had they to theirs. “It will die with me, I suppose,” I said in reassurance. When I was awaiting the birth of each of my three, I carefully wrote out prospective names to make sure they looked right, sounded right and initials did not spell anything offensive. Being a Southerner I am big on family names, and my children all got one. I was amused the other day when I was having my hair cut, and the stylists called a new employee “Chance.” I told her I had to know the origin of that. Was it a family name? She laughed and said there were three girls in the family lineup before she was born. Her parents called her their “last chance for a boy.” They did finally get a boy on the fifth go. Cos Barnes is a longtime contributor to PineStraw magazine. She can be contacted at cosbarnes@nc.rr.com.

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June 2013P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e O m n i v o r o u s Rea d e r

War as it Was By Stephen E. Smith

As the Greatest Gen-

eration has aged out, the megabuck purveyors of pop culture have worked overtime producing nonfiction books, documentaries and movies honoring the service of our World War II vets. Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan earned $485 million at the box office. Stephen Ambrose’s best-selling Band of Brothers became the basis for a 2001 blockbuster HBO miniseries, and after Ambrose’s death, his son Hugh wrote The Pacific as an accompaniment to an HBO miniseries set in the Pacific theater. In 2007, Ken Burns’ slightly less commercial documentary The War dominated PBS from May through July. And lord knows how many books have been published on the subject during the last decade.

The latest entry in this commercial stampede is Adam Makos and Marcus Brotherton’s Voices of the Pacific, a distillation of the recollections of fifteen Marines who experienced some of the bitterest fighting in the Pacific. No doubt many readers will be attracted to Voices after having read Makos’ A Higher Call, the moving story of an encounter between a German fighter ace and the crew of an American B-17 in the skies over Germany. But Voices shares little in common with A Higher Call, and stands apart from most commercially published WWII histories in that it’s almost purely an oral account of the fighting in the Pacific during the early 1940s. The veterans speak for themselves, and the editors intrude with a brief paragraph or footnote when necessary, which isn’t often. Oddly enough, readers accustomed to superbly crafted prose and meticulously structured narratives will likely find this oral approach refreshing. A description, however anecdotal, offered by a participant in a battle or mili-

tary campaign is as primary as a source can get. Moreover, these veterans have earned the right to tell their stories in their own words, and there’s a cynical folksiness and raw energy implicit in what they have to say. It’s reasonable to conclude that oral histories are easily compiled — sit down with a vet and switch on the tape recorder — but such compilations present their own set of challenges. The editors of Voices had to figure out how to structure the narrative. Informants recount fragments of stories and often talk in circles, relating events out of sequence and occasionally wandering off the subject altogether. Makos and Brotherton have overcome these difficulties by carefully editing out material that doesn’t move the narrative forward. As Makos writes in his much-too-brief introduction, “Together we did countless hours of interviews, editing, and shuffling the parts of the book together like a jigsaw puzzle.” And they’ve done a credible job. Even so, their efforts don’t always result in a coherent storyline. Since interviews lack detailed description and character development, readers may occasionally find themselves confused as to who was where and when. And, too, many passages are only a few sentences in length — “They brought up bread to us. We thought it was seeded rye bread. It wasn’t rye bread — it was goddamn fleas.” These frequent shifts in point of view, however colorful, interrupt the narrative flow. And the written word can’t project inflection, depriving the reader of the information needed to fully appreciate many of the passages. Of course there’s always the question of veracity. It’s human to tell what should have been rather than what was, and after spinning a yarn enough times, storytellers emphasize the elements that made the previous tellings compelling. Makos attempts to assuage these minor misgivings by stating in his introduction: “. . . in this book, the gloves are off — for Sid Phillips and all our contributors. They agreed to participate because we made them a promise: In this book, you can tell it as it was.” And that’s what these grizzled vets do. They grouse about the difficulties of surviving in a tropical climate where the temperature is 100 degrees at night and fresh water is scarce. They recall in vivid detail the festering monsoon islands where disease and scant rations encouraged dysentery and jungle rot. “Cape Gloucester was like going to sleep and having a nightmare that wasn’t even real . . . You felt like you were sent there to die and that was about the size of it.”

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013 17

T h e O m n i v o r o u s Rea d e r

In some cases they refute old rumors or correct long-held misconceptions, as with the much-repeated stories regarding the Marines’ sexual prowess and the virtue of the Australian women who befriended them: “People let their imaginations run wild when they think of us. Marines romancing the Australian girls. I’d say most of the relationships were old-fashioned and nonsexual. They were good girls and we respected that.” Or they disagree on the effectiveness of the .30 caliber carbine and the relative merits of the 1911 colt .45. The more startling passages reveal the horrors of war. “There was a blown-up Japanese tank there, next to us. It had taken a direct hit from some kind of shell. I looked inside, and what I saw couldn’t be put on paper. Severed heads. Two on the floor. One guy’s arm is off. All blood, everywhere. Everybody dead.” From Pearl Harbor and boot camp through the battles with the Japanese on Guadalcanal, Cape Gloucester, Peleliu and Okinawa, to their return home and their lives after V-J Day, these vets bring to life the horrors of war and joys of an earned peace. Voices of the Pacific also offers a couple of North Carolina connections. Mobile, Alabama native Sid Phillips, a veteran of Guadalcanal and Cape Gloucester, was enrolled at UNC-Chapel Hill on V-J Day when students poured out of the dorms and started a fire in the middle of Franklin Street. “They kept adding to the bonfire until it became gigantic,” he says. “It must have been thirty feet across. It burned up the traffic light in the middle of the street. Everyone was jumping up and down and cheering.” And longtime North Carolina resident Richard Greer, also a veteran of Guadalcanal and Cape Gloucester, never shies away from the truth. “About 1 a.m. it was like the hordes of hell were turned loose. The Japanese were all over the damn place. They were hopped on some kind of damn drug, throwing dynamite, throwing hand grenades, wielding swords and rifles. They were screaming and yelling ‘Banzai!’ ‘Kikiboo!’ ‘Marines you die!’ ‘Blood for the emperor!’ and derogatory things about Eleanor Roosevelt, Babe Ruth, and all that kind of crap. We would yell back. ‘Eat shit, Jap!’ It was a little low, but some Jap screamed at us, ‘Screw Eleanor!’ and some Marine yelled back, ‘You screw her! I don’t want it!’” Makos assures us that these are men who “give us one last tale, one last time.” That’s exactly what we get. PS Stephen Smith’s most recent book of poetry is A Short Report on the Fire at Woolworths. He can be reached at travisses@hotmail.com.

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

SOUTHERN PINES

PINEHURST

SOUTHERN PINES

Family Fabulous home in beautiful Southern Pines! This lovely home has great space with 4 bedrooms and 3.5 baths on an oversized, wooded lot on a quiet street. Kitchen has been renovated with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Hardwood floors, wrap around porch, fenced yard and big rear deck. $359,000.

This elegant custom home enjoys a premier location overlooking water and the 10th tee at Fairwoods on Seven - just a short stroll to the clubhouse! Rooms are spacious and open and the house is in immaculate condition. There is also an 18x50 unfinished basement with golf cart access - would be a perfect workshop, hobby room or workout room. $495,000. 4 BR / 2 Full BA and 2 Half BA Code 1013

Southern Charm! Lovingly restored cottage on 1.4 wooded acres in the beautiful neighborhood of Weymouth in Southern Pines. Updates include a stunning addition to the masterbedroom,makingthistrulyamastersuite,completelyupgradedkitchenwithnew cabinets,flooring,granitecountertopsandnewappliances,expandeddeckingandmuch more.Original wood floors.$445,000. 5 BR / 3.5 BA Code 1012

PINEHURST

SEVEN LAKES WEST

WHISPERING PINES

Gorgeous Arts and Crafts style home in absolutely pristine condition. Located in popular #6, this home is really special! Features hardwood floors, tile baths, gourmet kitchen with granite countertops, split bedroom plan. There's a spacious upstairs bonus room and walk-in access to a huge unfinished space right off the bonus room. $315,000. 3BR/2BA Code1014

Gorgeous all brick home on the # 3 hole of Beacon Ridge Golf Course. Immaculate condition and beautiful golf views. Interior offers gourmet kitchen with upscale cabinets, granite countertops, open to the spacious living area, split bedroom floor plan, upscale finishes with shining hardwood floors and generous moldings, screened porch and more! $317,000. 3 BR / 3.5 BA Code 1015

This is a great house! Absolutely wonderful curb appeal, fenced yard, super floorplan, spacious room sizes, hardwood floors, oversized covered deck, granite countertops in the well designed kitchen. $310,000.

www.158BanbridgeDrive.com

www.3636NiagaraCarthageRoad.com

SEVEN LAKES NORTH

PINEHURST

Pristine lakefront cottage! This all brick home has beautiful long views of Echo Lake and is the perfect place to enjoy peaceful days on the water. Bright and open floor plan, split bedrooms, sunny Carolina room overlooking the water. $215,000.

Enjoy sweeping golf views from this beautiful home in Pinehurst #6! This golf front home features hardwood floors, gas log fireplace, built-ins, gas range, and a true master suite with attached study/sitting room. Situated between the 9th and 18th greens, it is only a few steps to the first tee, the clubhouse, and the putting greens! $395,000. 3 BR / 2 BA Code 1005

5 bedrooms in this lovely home in a family friendly Pinehurst neighborhood! Beautifully kept and ready to move in! Split bedrooms, open floor plan, private backyard. Perfect for your growing family! Super Buy! $279,000. 5 BR / 3 BA Code 971

www.18CanterburyCircle.com

www.23BerylCircle.com

PINEHURST

LONGLEAF CC

SEVEN LAKES WEST

Elegant and luxurious townhome in Cotswold with Pinehurst membership available for transfer with buyer to pay prevailing transfer fee. Green area directly behind this lovely home adds wonderful privacy. $375,000.

Fabulous views of the 17th green and fairway. Large living room with cathedral ceiling and expansive views of the fairway, gas fireplace, built-in, adjustable bookshelves. Two decks - one off living room plus private deck off master bedroom. Mature landscaping, irrigation system. New sidewalk and driveway. New rain spouting with (WaterFlo) gutter guards. Regraded front of property. $329,000. 3 BR / 2 BA Code 880

Located at the end of a quiet, wooded cul-de-sac, this lovely home is absolutely charming with a light and open interior, vaulted ceilings, and hardwood floors. Enjoy the wonderful privacy of this secluded location from the spacious screened porch and deck. Immaculate! Great curb appeal! $298,000.

4 BR / 3.5 BA

www.250CliffRoad.com

Code 1011

www.280KingswoodCircle.com

3 BR / 2.5 BA

Code 999

www.114SunsetWay.com

4 BR / 3 BA

Code 950

www.10StantonCircle.com

www.35DeerwoodCourt.com

www.16SteeplechaseWay.com

www.335ArbutusRoad.com

3 BR / 3 BA

4 BR / 3BA

Code 1016

www.108Rector.com

View Floor Plans and Virtual Tours of Our Listings and See ALL Moore County Listings and Community Information at

WWW.MARTHAGENTRY.COM

Code 980

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Re/Max Prime Properties, 5 Chinquapin Rd., Pinehurst, NC 910-295-7100 â&#x20AC;˘ 800-214-9007

Bookshelf

Great Summer Reads By Kimberly Daniels FICTION Ladies’ Night by Mary Kay Andrews. Rising media star and lifestyle blogger Grace Stanton’s own life gets torpedoed after she drives her cheating husband’s sports car into the family swimming pool in a fit of anger. Soon she’s locked out of her own palatial home, checking account, and blog, and forced to move in with her widowed mother in a page-turning beach read by a bestselling author and frequent Weymouth visitor. Please join us for coffee with Mary Kay Andrews on Saturday June 8 at 10 a.m. Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen. Hiaasen is back with an adult book that has all of his wit and humor in tact. Andrew Yancy--late of the Miami Police and soon-to-be-late of the Monroe County sheriff’s office--has a human arm in his freezer. There’s a logical (Hiaasenian) explanation for that, but not for how and why it parted from its shadowy owner. Yancy thinks the boating-accident/shark-luncheon explanation is full of holes. Yancy must negotiate an obstacle course of wildly unpredictable events with a crew of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including his just-ex lover, a hot-blooded fugitive from Kansas; the twitchy widow of the frozen arm; two avariciously optimistic real-estate speculators; the Bahamian voodoo witch known as the Dragon Queen, whose suitors are blinded unto death by her peculiar charms; Yancy’s new true love, a kinky coroner; and the eponymous bad monkey, who with hilarious aplomb is first rate. Bobcat and Other Stories by Rebecca Lee. Do not worry if you are not a short story person. Do not worry if you have never heard of Becca Lee. Pick up this book. These are phenomenally written short stories. One feels like you have traveled miles or just read an entire book for the twists, time and emotions Lee packs in to these delightful stories. Please join us for Bite Sized Fiction at The Country Bookshop on Wednesday, June 19 at 5:30 The Summer Girls by Mary Alice Monroe. It is about time that some one with the talent to write Southern Women’s fiction the right way is finally doing a series. The first book in the series is out this summer and we can hardly wait for the second book! Mary Alice Monroe will be in Southern Pines for an author lunch on The Time Between by Karen White. Karen White is back to Southern Pines (Wednesday June 12 at 12:00) and back with a new book! The Time

Between is classic Karen White about a young girl who is town between her family and her future. Elenore’s new job as a nurse for an aging woman with secrets in her past allow her to reexamine her own sister relationship on South Carolina’s beautiful beaches. Silver Star by Jeannette Walls. Two sisters, whose mother thinks she has a career as an actress in front of her, fend for themselves in California. Left alone for too long, they buy bus tickets to Virginia where their uncle lives a reclusive life but takes them in. Prepare to be mesmerized yet again with this story of children who are more than capable of taking care of themselves. The Bookman’s Tale by Charles Lovett. A mysterious portrait ignites an antiquarian bookseller’s search through time and the works of Shakespeare for his lost love Guaranteed to capture the hearts of everyone who truly loves books, “The Bookman’s Tale” is a former bookseller’s sparkling novel and a delightful exploration of one of literature’s most tantalizing mysteries with echoes of “Shadow of the Wind” and A.S. Byatt’s “Possession.” Hay-on-Wye, 1995. Peter Byerly isn’t sure what drew him into this particular bookshop. Nine months earlier, the death of his beloved wife, Amanda, had left him shattered. The young antiquarian bookseller relocated from North Carolina to the English countryside, hoping to rediscover the joy he once took in collecting and restoring rare books. But upon opening an eighteenth-century study of Shakespeare forgeries, Peter is shocked when a portrait of Amanda tumbles out of its pages. Of course, it isn’t really her. The watercolor is clearly Victorian. Yet the resemblance is uncanny, and Peter becomes obsessed with learning the picture’s origins. As he follows the trail back first to the Victorian era and then to Shakespeare’s time, Peter communes with Amanda’s spirit, learns the truth about his own past, and discovers a book that might definitively prove Shakespeare was, indeed, the author of all his plays. The author will be in Southern Pines on Thursday June 13 at 4:30 The Last Original Wife by Dorthea Benton Frank. The “New York Times”-bestselling author dissects a successful marriage in this fantastic book. A women in successful Atlanta society realizes that she is the last original wife left in her social circle. This fact causes her to take a long visit to her brother’s historic home in Charleston, her hometown and revitalize herself and attachment to life. Dottie Frank will be in Southern Pines on Tuesday June 18 at 12:00

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013 21

Bookshelf

CHILDREN AND YOUNG ADULT

By Angie Tally

With June comes Father’s Day and the beginning of Summer reading. Celebrate both with a few good books. Because I’m Your Dad by Ahmet Zappa. Dads are wonderful in many ways, whether it is building mud forts in the backyard, making up funny stories at bedtime, cooking spaghetti for breakfast or being a pogo-stick instructor, This wonderful ode to Dads celebrates the unique things Dads do that really make them special. Ages 2-6.

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BOUTIQUES Eye Max Optical Boutique Green Gate Gourmet Green Gate Olive Oils The Potpourri Old Sport & Gallery Tesoro Home Decor & Gifts

SALONS & SPAS Elaine’s Hairdressers

RESTAURANTS & INNS Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour & Gift Shoppe Theo’s Taverna

SERVICES Village of Pinehurst Rentals & Golf

Apprentices by Maile Meloy, critically acclaimed short story writer and author of the award-winning Apothecary. Janie Scott, daughter of two BBC correspondents, hasn’t seen her friend Benjamin Burroughs, mysterious son of the local apothecary, for more than two years. Benjamin and his father are working in wartorn Vietnam to aid the sick and wounded but have also discovered a magical formula which allows him communicate with Janie alerting him to the fact that she is facing grave danger. This second book in the brilliantly clever, fast paced, mysterious historical fiction series will captivate readers of all ages. Catching Fire by Susanne Colllins. Finally, what Hunger Games fans have been waiting for! The second volume in this wildly popular dystopian fantasy series is now available in paperback. Ages 14 and up. And for those who can’t get enough dystopian adventure be sure to pick up The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey, being billed as the biggest book of the summer and a MUST READ for everyone who has finished The Hunger Games Trilogy and Marie Lu’s Legend and Prodigy. (Ages 12 and up) Moon and More. North Carolina writer, Sarah Dessen, has once again written the perfect book to kick off the summer on the beach or by the pool. Emaline, resident Colby, North Carolina, has the perfect boyfriend: Handsome, kind and fun Luke. But with the end of her Senior year approaching, Emailne’s world view begins to broaden and her perfectly safe relationship may no longer be enough. Ages 14and up. Join us Every Friday at 10:30 for Preschool storytime and especially Friday, June 28 at 10:30 AM when Ladybug Girl will visit in and share her favorite summertime books. PS

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

h itti n g h o m e

The Dealmaker Good thing I love the clever man

By Dale Nixon

I’m always suspicious of my

husband’s “deals.”

When he says, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll make a deal with you,” it usually means I’m in for trouble. It means he knows something I don’t know that will work to his advantage. For that reason, I try to steer clear of his deals. But one summer many years ago, he made the deal of all deals. After years of listening to me nag about wanting a place at the beach, one day he countered with, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll make a deal with you.” (Uh-oh.) “I’ll rent you and Hollis (our daughter, who was 5 years old at the time) a condominium at the beach for two consecutive weeks. If you both enjoy your stay, I’ll consider buying beach property.” I said, “What’s the catch?” He said, “No catch.” I said, “What do you know that I don’t know?” He said, “Nothing.” I asked for several days to think about it. After trying for days to think of a catch, I couldn’t think of anything that could possibly go wrong. Of course Hollis and I would both enjoy two weeks at the beach. Who wouldn’t? My husband helped us pack the car and kissed us goodbye. As we were pulling out of the driveway, he hollered out, “May the best man win.” Now, what did that mean? The first day with Hollis on the beach was an indication. “Hollis, let’s make a drip castle today.” “I don’t want to.” “Why?” “Because sand will get all over me and make me itch.” “We can go in the ocean and wash it off.” “A jelly fish might sting me.” “Well, dear, why don’t we go for a nice, long walk on the beach and collect seashells?” “I have a bucketful at home you made me collect last year.” “How about a game of paddle ball?” “Mommie, you can’t ever hit the ball back to me.”

“Hollis, what would you like to do?” “I want to go to the pool or to a movie.” “You can go to a pool or a movie at home. Let’s be beach people when we’re at the beach.” “Let’s go back home so we can be home people.” “Hollis, Daddy has made a big sacrifice by renting us a condominium at the beach for two weeks. It has cost him a lot of money for us to have a good time, and WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A GOOD TIME.” “Mommie, I’d have a good time if you would take me to the water slide.” “No.” “What about Putt-Putt?” “No.” “Then please take me home.” “No.” “Why?” “Because, Hollis, God made the rolling waves, white sand and perfectly formed seashells for us to enjoy.” “May I go up and watch television while you enjoy the waves, sand and seashells?” “Nooooo … We are going to stay on the beach together if we have to sit here and stare at one another.” And that’s exactly what we did. We sat on the beach together for two weeks and stared at one another. My husband called every night to see if we were having fun. I always answered, “Yes.” She always answered, “No.” When our two-week stay was up (finally) and we arrived back home, I knew there would be no beach property for me. As usual, my husband had played his cards right. I was of the old beach, and Hollis was of the new. There was no way both of us could enjoy the beach together. I should have known better than to make a deal with Bob Nixon. He always knows something I don’t know that will work to his advantage. PS Columnist Dale Nixon may be contacted at dalenixon@carolina.rr.com.

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685 Lake Forest Dr. SE $365,000 Award winning international designer Kevin Wulz has produced this exceptional 3 bed 2 bath home. Walls of windows capture the beautiful landscaping and views of Lake Pinehurst. Interior is finished with imported Italian ceramics and hard wood flooring. Open floor plan provides a natural flow for easy living. Come see this extraordinary home.

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195 Short Street • Southern Pines, NC

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e k it c h e n g a r d e n

Bean Season

The perfect side dish and so easy to grow

By Jan Leitschuh

Let’s talk beans. And not

the dried “beans-beans-the-musicalfruit” type legume, either. Fresh green beans, or snap beans (or haricots verts, if you want to sound suave and welltraveled) are beginning to sneak into local markets this month. And the best news — it’s not too late to plant some in your garden.

Green beans are known for their great texture and flavor. Usually picked while crisp, the pods should snap when you bend them. This crispness means the green bean is still immature, with the inner beans just beginning to form in the pod. They are typically eaten young and fresh, pod and all (versus dried and shelled from the pod). Often deep emerald green in color, but sometimes yellow-green, the slender pods come to a slight point at either end. Those are snapped off too, hence the term “snap beans.” Where would the South be without green beans as a delicious side dish? My husband was waxing nostalgic about green beans lately, remembering picking “a mess” from the family garden for dinner from long rows of low bushes. His young self would join his beloved Grandma Miller, picking the fresh slim beans into a pocket she formed by folding the hem of her apron upward, in the classic manner of garden-savvy Grandmas of yore. She taught the youngster how to pick carefully, how not to not yank and damage the bushes. The beans were tossed in a colander and rinsed, then the ends of the pods were snapped off, as mentioned earlier, then further snapped into two or three sections. Next, the snapped beans were boiled into submission, often with new potatoes and salt pork or bacon. “I didn’t like to snap them,” he recalls, “but I sure liked to eat them.” Green beans and potatoes went especially well with meatloaf, he added, rather hopefully, I thought. Green bean casserole was another Southern family staple, especially for Sunday lunch. “Green beans and Sunday dinner would kind of go together,” he added. Grandma Miller lived on long after the century mark, so the health-aware

may take heed. As I wrote on the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative website, where we store much information about seasonal fruits and vegetables and their preparation, storage and health benefits: “In addition to conventional antioxidant nutrients like vitamin C and beta-carotene, green beans contain important amounts of the antioxidant mineral manganese. But the area of phytonutrients is where green beans really shine through in their antioxidant value. Green beans contain a wide variety of carotenoids and flavonoids that have all been shown to have health-supportive antioxidant properties.” We’ll talk about bush beans here, because Southern pole beans like half-runners are a story unto themselves. Bush beans tend not to have the “string” of stringy pole beans. Some folks say pole beans like the half-runners have an even better flavor, but again, that’s a debate for another time. There are several convenient bush varieties you can buy — ask your local seed/feed store what they prefer and what does well around here. I’ve had good luck with “Tenderette,” and bush-type “Blue Lake,” but there are bound to be other wonderful varieties out there. I speed things up by soaking in water overnight, then planting in prepared ground the next day. Just poke a hole in the dirt with your finger or a small stick, flip the bean in and cover. Simple. You don’t have to soak them, but in our drought-y sands, I find it can speed up the process and help with an even germination. You can start planting in early April if you don’t mind taking a risk on a quarter’s worth of seed. Thereafter, as long as you want beans, plant every 10 days to two weeks so that the bushes can ripen in succession. This should give you plenty for fresh table use, canning and/or freezing for that Thanksgiving green bean casserole you know your family won’t let you forget about. Because they are low bushes, no support is needed. Seed about 4-6 inches apart. You can even grow them in larger pots. I have a friend who lines his pool with 5-gallon buckets, and he plants bush green beans in many of them, trailing petunias in the rest. “I think they are heaven’s food,” my friend Steve enthuses. “They give me the excuse to put a little bacon in them. Everybody needs a little bacon now and again.” Ah, are we sensing a bacon meme here? Bacon aside, an enriched, well-worked soil adds flavor and is a bonus for growing any edible thing. Some folks prefer to hedge their bean-y bets by mixing in an inoculation of beneficial rhizobia bacteria as well. You’ve heard how beans

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e k it c h e n g a r d e n

and other legumes fix nitrogen by removing it from the air and increasing it in the soil after the legume is cut down? Well, bacteria do the heavy lifting. Your soil may have these bacteria, and your seed may even be inoculated, but in either case, you can purchase even more bacteria to “inoculate” your beans, if desired. I say experiment. Bean seed is cheap. Avoid much nitrogen, or you’ll get all bush and no bean. Some plants love nitrogen, such as cabbages and leafy greens, and make a good fallcrop choice to follow your summer beans. If well-watered, bush beans are pretty hardy. Both the Japanese beetles and the Mexican bean beetles are fond of the leaves, which may cut your home-garden production slightly, but personally, I wouldn’t worry about it. Seed is cheap. Just keep planting. The deer, however, are another matter. They do like a nibble on a bean plant, so keep them at bay in some creative, attractive manner. A nice bush bean plant can give you a pound or more of beans, usually in a flush or two. Check the beans as they begin to size up. You’re looking to pick the pod, just as the beans begin to form. Don’t wait for the beans to size up inside, or the pods will be woody and unpleasant. Store unwashed beans in the refrigerator in a plastic bag, where they can keep up to six days. They develop spots if kept too long, so go ahead and freeze any you don’t want for supper. Just prep everything you picked for dinner, cook them all up, and freeze what you don’t consume. Tomorrow, there will be more. My little brother used to enjoy eating them raw, much to the amusement of the farmers market ladies, who fed him beans by the dozen for the spectacle. Green beans hold up well to boiling, sauteing, steaming, pickling, and even grilling (toss with oil and throw in a basket). Add green beans to chilled or hot salads, pastas, stews/soups, omelets, and casseroles. Since there’s a bacon thing going on in this column, here’s a simple and flavorful method.

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3 tablespoons butter 8 slices bacon, diced 2 pounds fresh green beans, trimmed and cut in 1-inch pieces Freshly ground black pepper, to taste In a large skillet over medium heat, melt butter; add bacon. Fry bacon until crisp; set aside. Bring a pot of water to a boil; add beans. Boil for about 10 minutes, or until desired doneness is reached. Drain beans; add them to the skillet with bacon and butter. Toss well and heat through. Season with pepper. PS Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

V i n e W isd o m

The Power of Petite Sirah

By Robyn James

Petite sirah is

Photograph by cassie butler

a grape that joins zinfandel as distinctly Californian. It was originally started by a French botanist, Dr. Durif, who crossed syrah with an obscure grape called, peloursin and named the new grape after himself, Durif. He marketed the grape as an alternative to syrah that was more resistant to mildew. The farmers in France who initially experimented with it quickly discovered that unfortunately it was prone to grey rot, and they all but completely gave up on farming it.

Durif traveled to California in the 1880s, where growers renamed it petite sirah because the grapes were smaller than syrah grapes. Italian immigrants embraced the grape, planting it with other “mixed reds” such as syrah and zinfandel to make their “field blends.” The flavors are big and bold, complex with layers of black fruits, such as blueberry and wonderful nuances of black pepper and licorice. Petite flourishes in the drier, less humid climate of California. A few Australian winemakers have also dabbled with it, but it calls California home. It can be a fiercely tannic, age-worthy grape that zinfandel producers such as Ridge and Rosenblum will add to their wines for that extra shot of tannin. A petite sirah advocacy organization, PS I Love You, was formed in 2002 and now over 55 producers of petite sirah participate in the annual event called Dark & Delicious. Hundreds of fans turn out for the tasting. Petite has become the cult favorite and although plantings are on the rise, cab is still king in California. Winemaker Shauna Rosenblum says of the grape, “It can taste like an amazing breakfast. My favorites taste like hickory bacon, freshly brewed coffee, ripe strawberry, blueberry and butter-drenched, maple-syrupy pancakes.”

Prices on petite sirah, like cabernet sauvignon are all over the place. You can get a tasty little entry level wine for around $11 from producers such as Drops of Jupiter, Line 39 and Handcraft. Premier producers Stag’s Leap, Frank Family and Robert Biale have price tags in the $50-$90 range. Some may be completely unoaked and others may have been aged in expensive new French oak barrels. The orgin of the grapes and winemaking techniques all have an effect on the finished price. Here are some of our favorites:

Michael & David Petite Petit, California, 2010, approx., $17

“Another interesting offering with more asphalt, pepper, meaty, leathery characteristics is the big 2010 Petite Petit. A blend of 85 percent petite sirah and 15 percent petit verdot, it reveals some tannins lurking under the surface as well as a more rustic, forceful style. Nevertheless, it is a well-made, palate-saturating, valuepriced red to drink over the next 4-5+ years. This winery has a portfolio of marvelous, bold, flamboyant, value-priced wines that over-deliver across multiple varietals.” Rated 87 Points, Robert Parker, The Wine Advocate

Drops Of Jupiter Petite Sirah, California, 2011 approx., $11

A lusty, fruity petite sirah that packs a punch from first sip to spicy finish. Floods the mouth with juicy boysenberry, mulberry, red plum, clove and pepper flavors. Lots going on at a good, everyday price.

Marietta Angeli Cuvee, Alexander Valley, 2010 approx. $36

A proprietary blend of zinfandel, petite sirah, carignane and syrah. Exudes aromas of blueberry, stone fruits and black licorice. The dense purple color is a great indication of what is to come on the mouth: a solid and complex wine which is full and velvety, and finishes with lasting toasty oak flavors. The secondary flavors of pepper, black currant and cinnamon continue to evolve once the wine is open. Rich and intense. PS Robyn James is proprietor of The Wine Cellar and Tasting Room in Southern Pines. Contact her at winecellar@pinehurst.net.

l e tt e r f r o m h o m e

The Men in My Life

By Sundi McLaughlin

Like many

young girls, I thought my dad was the wisest, most thoughtful and hilarious man in the world. If anyone had asked, my gangly, skinny body (he nicknamed me “Bones” due to my bony knees) would’ve stood at attention, and my Olivia Newton John “Let’s get Physical” hairstyle would have bobbed once before I answered, “The best man in the world? That would be my dad, obviously.” I thought he hung the moon and stars. I tried to make him proud with every opportunity. If he liked basketball, I loved it. He sang like a bird, so I joined the church choir. He loved stories, and guess who got straight A’s in speech class?

My dad always equated humor with intelligence. “Always surround yourself with people who have a good sense of humor,” he said. “If your friends can’t laugh at themselves or understand sarcasm, they’re either not very smart or overly confident.” In our family dry wit and sarcasm were the litmus test for intelligence. At the supper table it wasn’t good enough to blather on about just any old thing. If you had a story to tell, it had better be well-crafted. Storytelling was an art form in our family. My mom studied journalism, my dad was a teacher and coach, and they were all about presentation and getting the point across succinctly while at the same time entertaining the audience. This behavior might sound harsh in these modern times, but the point was simple: “If you insist on sharing, share wisely.” Well, maybe that wasn’t said in so many words, but as you may know in this life, often the things that go unsaid speak the loudest.

My father’s influence on me was so great that I would do everything in my power to ingratiate myself to him. His favorite TV shows became mine. If I wanted to make him laugh, these shows would be my tutor. Dad introduced me to Danny DeVito in Taxi, Ted Danson in Cheers and, of course, the gang from Korea, the Emmy-winning sitcom M*A*S*H. This leads me to the other leading man in my young life: the smart, wisecracking, moral, scampish, incomparable Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce, aka Alan Alda. Under my dad’s tutelage I was introduced to the only other man who could hold a candle to his own charm and wit. These two men were the most influential individuals in my young life. They sculpted my psyche and molded my brain more than any type of peer pressure or “After School Special” ever could. Both men shared the same rakish good looks; tall, dark, and blue-eyed, and both were extremely funny. If my father was worried about the possibility of Mr. Alda usurping his role, he showed no signs. Every night at 5 and 5:30 I could be found unblinking in front of the TV. I soaked in the nuanced humor, the witty banter and the clever plot twists. My mom would call for my brother and me to come to dinner, but she knew I would not darken the dining room door until Hawkeye saved the day and single-handedly won the war — five nights a week. I thought Hawkeye Pierce, the dashing Army surgeon from Maine, was about the best person in the world . . . besides my dad, of course. Which is why what happened next injured me to my core. When I was in third grade, I had a wonderful teacher named Ms. Lantz. I loved her and was amazed at how much she knew. Math, science, English, she knew it all. Under her supervision we grew beans in a mason jar, made cheese, painted a Christmas plate for my grandparents and every Wednesday she would immerse us into different worlds of wonder and mystery by reading us books of every variety. Then mid-year she gave us the mother of all assignments. “If you could grow up to be anyone in the world, who would you like to be?” She paused, allowing us to consider before continuing, “I want you to write a letter to the person you most admire.” Ms. Lantz gave us two weeks to come up

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

with a name, polish up a letter and bring in a stamped envelope. My beloved Ms. Lantz would do the rest. She explained that she had hundreds of addresses of the most important people and she would find a way to get each letter sent to the appropriate person. I never loved anyone as much as I did Ms. Lantz. So my classmates wrote to President Reagan, child author Judy Blume, anthropologist Jane Goodall, etc. All worthy candidates, if that’s your cup of tea. Not me, Faithful Readers, I wrote to my future husband, Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce, the star of the greatest sitcom ever. The funny thing is, before my dad introduced me to M*A*S*H my letter would’ve been written to him; no postage needed. But now, Dad had serious competition. For two weeks I wrote and rewrote my letter, going through dozens of drafts. I struggled to find just the right balance of dry wit, respect and admiration. I posed questions that were both entertaining as well as insightful. For instance: Dear Mr. Alda, Although you only play an Army surgeon on TV, you seem very knowledgeable about anatomy and medicine. Do you think you would ever want to go to school to be a doctor? Your character often talks about his hometown, Crabapple Cove, Maine. Does that town really exist and if so have you ever visited? I know this isn’t my business, but will you and “Hot Lips” ever get married? Yours truly, Sundi I fretted over every word and finally, the night before it was due, completed the final draft. I painstakingly wrote it out in my finest cursive and with several careful folds, slipped the letter into the stamped envelope with my return address emblazoned at the left top corner and sealed it with a kiss. I went to bed that night with visions of Mr. Alda strolling to his mailbox, getting my letter, pausing to read it and then throwing his head back with that great unabashed way he had and laughing out loud. Then after reading every single word, I imagined him refolding the letter and tucking it into his coat pocket for safekeeping and, with a nod of his head and slight smile on his lips, he would turn back toward his house with the knowledge that he was admired, loved and respected by Sundi Lynn Daugherty. Did I expect to get a letter in return? I dared not hope for such a triumph, but as the other kids in class began getting return letters from residents Reagan and Carter, random children authors and some other celebrity types from Hollywood, I began to get my hopes up. Every day I came to class with a hopeful swelling in my chest. Maybe today would be the day I would get my letter from Hollywood with an

autographed photo just like that kid who sat in the back row and always wore Chips T-shirts. He got a black-and-white glossy from none other than Poncherello himself, the star of CHIPs, Erik Estrada — great teeth. Weeks passed and then months and no letter ever arrived. Ms. Lantz encouraged me to write to President Reagan or Judy Blume and eventually I did write to the latter, and to be honest I can’t remember if I ever got anything back. Hers was not the letter I was looking for. Was this my punishment for betraying my dad? He would’ve written me back. He would’ve laughed at my witty note and patted my head in approval. “Good job, Bones,” I could hear him say to my upturned smiling face. Eventually, the school year came to a close and Ms. Lantz asked if I could help her pack up a few last things from the classroom. I washed the chalk board, banged the erasers one last time and helped empty her wooden desk drawers. Can you guess what I found in her bottom right drawer? My letter to Alan Alda. The letter I spent days writing and, for months afterward, afflicted me with heartbreak and betrayal. All this time, I thought my beloved “Hawkeye” didn’t care. In reality he was clueless to my third-grade crush. Relief washed over me, but only for a minute until I realized my favorite teacher had never even sent the letter. Month after month she stood by and watched me hope and wish for a letter that never came. I slammed the drawer shut with indignation and squeezed the letter in my hand as I searched the classroom for traitorous Ms. Lantz. I found her across the room taking down the blue ribbon paintings in which I was a contestant earlier that year. My submission was of a shakily painted picture of my dad and myself — he wearing a ball cap and with a whistle around his neck while my amateur and poorly drawn face gazed up at him with what I hoped looked like adoration. I didn’t win a blue ribbon, I didn’t even get an honorable mention, but I remember thinking that my dad would’ve been proud. My anger drained from my fingertips with that memory and I dropped the letter in to the trash and helped Ms. Lantz load boxes into the trunk of her car. Alan Alda will always hold a special place in my heart, but my dad is the one that I think of when I’m in a bind. His lessons are what I turn to when I need motivation or strength. He still sings like a bird and tells the best stories. And every once in a while, if I try my best and on those rare occasions succeed, he’ll give me a call and say “Good job, Bones.” PS Sundi McLaughlin is a frequent contributor to PineStraw magazine.

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

P o st c a r d f r o m P a r is

Alone on Holiday Traveling light but learning much

By Christina Klug

Back in August, I remember airport se-

curity snidely commenting, “You must not travel often.” I don’t know what gave it away: the tears pouring down my cheeks, every electronic device I owned in its own separate container, or my busting-at-the-seams “carry on” suitcase that toppled over backward each time I momentarily let go. If they could only see me now... they would probably still be laughing.

I am indeed still traveling with that raggedy suitcase that flips off curbs, stumbles over the smallest pebble, and should never have left the top shelf of my parents’ closet. I debated throwing it away altogether before my trips and immediately regretted it the morning we sprinted through the Opéra metro station to catch a bus to Charles De Gaulle airport. I again regretted it as it screeched along the sidewalk on the way to hostels with new friends I’d met on the train. And even more so on my last night when I sprinted across Pont des Sèvres in attempts to make it to the bus stop, only to have the bus driver ring its trolley-like bell, lock eyes with me and shake his Gallic finger non non mademoiselle at me. By 1:30, exhausted from eleven days of traveling, and hysterically laughing, I debated throwing the whole thing into the Seine, but was forced to drag it up the hill home. The French school system has four two-week holidays that I fortunately get to take advantage of. For our March break, I booked a trip to Prague, Vienna and Budapest, meeting friends in each place, but traveling to each stop alone. Growing up with a tendency to be late to everything and an overall oblivion to specific details, I was extremely apprehensive of the trip, but knew I had to prove I could do it, so I pulled on my big girl pants. My trip got off to an interesting start at the airport when I skipped the whole line assuming I had speedy boarding, had to pay for oversized luggage, forgot to take my computer out of my checked bag, went through security, remembered my computer, had to claim my baggage and do the entire process again. I also foolishly got a large amount of euros out of an ATM before I left, realizing afterward I had disregarded the fact that both Prague and Budapest don’t use the euro. I had also failed to realize Wien is the Austrian term for Vienna. I’m learning. I adored Eastern Europe. The way the red rooftops overlap one another and the pastel colored buildings with intricate designs. The general emptiness of the streets and slower pace of life — so slow that at times I wondered where in the world all the people were. I loved the way the cities were based around the rivers and the beauti-

ful reflections off the water. And of course the beer ain’t so bad either. My favorite part of the trip was a hike up the gorgeous tree-lined Petrin hill with overlooks of the entire city of Prague, guided by a sweet old man in a bucket hat. I stood in awe of the intricate stained glass in St. Vitus Cathedral in the Praha Castle and enjoyed many evening walks along the Vltava river and Charles Bridge. In Vienna, I oohed and aahed over every single exhibit at the MAK museum and enjoyed dinner at the swanky restaurant attached, though our coats got locked inside and we had to walk home in the cold. All the artwork was fantastic and it was incredible to see the Austrian native Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss,” in person at the Belvedere Palace, not to mention the lovely gardens covered in snow. I fell in love with all things falafel and would daily stop by Naschmarkt, an open air market, for samples dipped in hummus. I attended Aida at the Vienna State Opera for a mere four euros, standing beside a local who wants to be an opera singer and taught me all there is to know. In Budapest I almost passed out when I withdrew $30 and was given 10,000 HUF, all in one bill. I was obsessed with the ruin bars, built in abandoned buildings, with vintage mismatched furniture, great music and hipster art hanging from the ceilings. We spent a long sunny afternoon enjoying the thermal baths and steam rooms in their famous hot springs. And watched the sunset over Pest from the Fisherman’s Bastion, as a sweet old woman played songs from The Sound of Music (wrong country, lady!) on her violin. As expected, not everything about the trip was ideal. Coming from a girl nicknamed French Fry, I had much higher expectations of the potatoes on a stick from Old Town Square. I got a 100 euro ticket for riding the Vienna U-Bahn without paying and am now probably banned from the Austrian Alps because I left the country sans paying. I had to use my pajama shirt as a towel because I didn’t pack one and our hostel didn’t have any. And my bus to Budapest was canceled because of snow so I had to buy a last minute train ticket, which was expensive and stressful. All in all my trip was amazing. I had a great time being a tourist and felt refreshed to be in places that, unlike Paris, actually warmly welcome Americans. My trip taught me a ton of little things that you can’t prepare yourself for while traveling, no matter how much research you do beforehand. Like dorms are either all girls or mixed sexes, and that your hostel roomie is guaranteed to be weird. I learned to pack lighter because I will probably favor one outfit and re-wear it constantly. I learned contentment in eating and exploring alone. I cherished conversations with strangers everywhere that I would never have met had I had friends with me. But more so I developed a humble swagger of sorts. A confidence that it’s possible to do it alone, but to be prepared that things will not always be perfect and you just have to roll with it. And just so you know, I will be ditching the suitcase and using a hiker’s backpack this summer. Christina Klug, a former PineStraw intern, makes her fortune as an au pair in France.

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Out of the Blue

The Room of Sidetracked Dreams One woman’s junk room is another’s trip down memory lane

By Deborah Salomon

Whenever I watch a TV program

Photograph By Cassie Butler

or read a report about the brain I look for the quadrant marked Junk Room. A junk room is different from a junk drawer. Whereas a junk drawer bespeaks defaced magazines and defunct Chinese restaurants, a junk room houses sidetracked dreams.

A junk room is a head trip down memory lane. I have never been without a junk room. As a child, in a crowded Manhattan apartment, I made do with a closet corner. The closet was dark; no one could see what I piled there — a forbidden Archie comic book; a pair of outgrown loafers from a friend because I was only allowed oxfords; a toy bird made of real feathers because the janitor complained about putting breadcrumbs on the windowsill. My largest repository was a mammoth basement and crawl space — glorious. My mother probably caused this need. She was a math teacher with all the attendant traits: scruffy stuff not tolerated, precise clutter OK. Her kitchen counters were covered with it, but piled neatly. I could barely walk when she taught me to make my bed, just so. Even now my bills, paid the day received, are filed alphabetically in a brown accordion folder. Therefore I must have a place (with a door, usually closed) to stash life’s messy overflow. For this I have designated the second bedroom in a 900-square-foot apartment. I didn’t need a two-bedroom apartment for sleeping space. I needed it for junk Not exactly junk. A person collects many precious objects over a lifetime, enough things to fill a 3,500-square-foot house. When life changes and everyone has left and the house is gone, that person must pick carefully through the artifacts, deciding what to keep and what to put out for a three-day tag sale that broke my heart. I chose enough furniture to live comfortably without feeling crowded. The overflow — items I couldn’t bear to divest — reposes where it does me neither good nor harm. Really, will I ever again need … Tablecloths for my 6-foot antique pine harvest table. They are big. They are bulky. They are beautiful — from starched antique linen to folksy crocheted to awning stripe, made from a sheet. After six years, they remain boxed. A 14-cup Cuisinart and a mini-Cuisinart. My former kitchen boasted a counter longer than RDU’s runway, where the three stood together. Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear, I called them. Only Mama fits now. But

someday, somebody may want a great big cheesecake — Papa Bear’s specialty. A cabinet, toy chest and table my father made when I was small. He excelled at weekend carpentry. He finished the backs of bureaus as skillfully as the fronts. This meticulously constructed furniture has been stained, scraped, painted, scraped again. By now, they look a bit shabby, might be passed over at a consignment shop. My daughter has no use for them, my grandsons are teen-agers. Eventually I will leave these hunks of wood — but they will never leave me. Chairs: One upholstered, one patio, three dining room. Luckily, they stack. Lamps. I’m a lamp freak. I have lamps made from old stoneware crocks, an aluminum ice bucket, a maple syrup can. I have a wrought-iron floor lamp, another constructed from blonde oak, a sculpturesque glass table lamp, a pewter one, too. If I plugged them all in, my junk room would glow like Times Square. Suitcases, picnic coolers, purses. These I put inside one another, like Russian nesting dolls. Out of sight, out of memory. Books. How does a food writer owning 500 cookbooks downsize to 50? My big kitchen had a wall of built-in shelves for these and a collection of odd cooking implements. At least books can be stacked against the junk-room wall. Clothes. I could outfit an Eskimo clan with winter garments, many down-filled, also serious boots — not the flimsy fashion variety. I kept my skis, poles and ski boots, which represent 10 years of lugging the kids, the Airedale and provisions to a little house in the mountains, every weekend from November to April. They await someone with healthy knees and a plane ticket north. Wall art. No originals, nothing expensive, everything meaningful hung helter-skelter on the junk room walls. Also three mirrors, one cracked but in a lovely antique frame. Mirrors have become the enemy but someday, when wall space opens up, maybe I’ll have it fixed. Newspaper clips, New Yorker covers, Southern Living recipes, quilts, pillows, and, most disturbing, the treasures I still cannot bypass at Goodwill, Habitat and tag sales. Why, just last week I found a pair of brass duck-head bookends for only $4. Yes, my junk room is a sad and happy collage, a residue of what life was and what it could have been — or still may be. If a fire broke out I wouldn’t replace a thing. But neither will I get rid of the tablecloths, skis, swim fins, meat grinder, backpack, cat carrier, candelabra, soup cauldron, turkey platter and a Cuisinart big enough to make pumpkin cheesecake for Marie Antoinette’s minions. Because . . . you just never know. PS Deborah Salomon is a staff writer for PineStraw and The Pilot. She may be reached at debsalomon@nc.rr.com.

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

B I R D WA T CH

Pine Siskin

The little Northerner who found a home in the Sandhills

By Susan Campbell

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true: Some birds just do not read the field

guides. Our wintering species are supposed to head back north come spring, to set up territories and to work on producing the next generation. However, there are times when this pattern is broken. Abundant food on the wintering grounds is simply too good for individuals to pass up. This winter we had an abundance of pine siskins here. That is because siskins are an irruptive species (a lot like the red-breasted nuthatch). Nomadic individuals are known to move farther southward in winters when certain seed crops are in short supply across the northern forests. When these gregarious finches find feeders offering sunflower or thistle seed, they will take up residence by the dozens. Most people maintaining a feeding station in the Sandhills almost certainly hosted at least a few of these birds in the last several months. However, some of us still have pine siskins visiting daily. So this situation might lead us to wonder if they will become a permanent fixture, alongside the local house finches and American goldfinches. The answer is maybe â&#x20AC;&#x201D; at least for the summer. Many of the remaining siskins will slowly disperse in the coming weeks. These are almost certainly juvenile birds: individuals that hatched last summer whose hormones are not quite circulating as they do in adults. One species in which this kind of retarded migratory urge is regularly observed is the cedar waxwing. In springs that are insect rich (in particular those in which there are hatches of periodic cicadas), flocks can be found gorging themselves long after most of

their brethren have departed for more northerly destinations. However, it is possible that a few pairs of pine siskins will attempt to breed here. I am unaware of any records from the past, but it has happened in other southerly locations following significant winter irruptions. Southern forests that mimic the usual northern habitat, such as our tracts of longleaf pine, certainly do have the necessary components for the birds to be successful. Such breeding attempts by other irruptive species have been documented in our area previously, the most remarkable being the red crossbill pairs that bred in the area back in the mid-1970s. But even if siskins are here through the summer, they will definitely move on by next fall. Pine siskins usually are found breeding in the open, coniferous forests of the boreal region throughout northern states of the US, southern Canada as well as higher elevations of the Rockies and western mountain regions. Although they are a non descript small bird with brown streaks, and varying amounts of yellow on the wings and tail as well as a delicate bill, they are noisy. Their wheezy calls are very distinctive. Pine siskins associate closely when breeding as well as foraging. Being semi-colonial, nests may be found in neighboring trees. Look for shallow cups made from small twigs and lined with animal fur, plant down, or moss located at the end of a branch in the mid-canopy. Definitely keep an eye (and an ear) out for these little Northerners in the weeks to come. Should you find evidence of nesting, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d sure love to hear about it. But in the meantime, keep those seed feeders full in case a few lingering siskins happen to drop by. PS Susan would love to hear from you. Send wildlife sightings and photos to susan@ncaves.com or call (910)949-3207.

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e sp o r ti n g li f e

The Birth of a Fish Tale Chased by cold and rain, our man in the field finally found his place in the sun, and a trophy bass

By Tom Bryant

Linda and I decided

to do our annual spring camping/fishing trip a little differently this year. First of all, the weather around here had been blowing and rainy for most of February and, unfortunately, continued into March. Secondly, we were about two weeks behind in our plans because of unexpected responsibilities that we had to take care of before we could depart. Traditionally, we would head straight to Florida with just a few stops along the way, eventually ending up at Chocoloskee Island below Everglades City. This trip, we decided to start at Wilmington, camp a few days at the KOA down the road from Wrightsville Beach and take in the Cape Fear Wildlife Expo being held downtown at the new Convention and Business Center.

The Wildlife Expo was great. Our curiosity was piqued the night before we were to attend when we met the campers at the site right across from us. John Tanner, a champion turkey call carver, and his bride, Elaine, who creates beautiful tapestries and pine straw baskets, gave us the scoop about the Expo. They were participants in the event and had a booth where they sold their wares. We got the scoop from John that evening as to where to go, where to park, and the best time to get there to avoid the big crowds. John and Elaine also have an Airstream, a 32-footer, a lot larger than our little Bambi, so we were comrades in camping. As Elaine so aptly put it, “I’ve never met an Airstreamer that I didn’t like.” The Convention Center is located right beside the Cape Fear River and is the largest one on the North Carolina coast. There were at least two hundred booths displaying fishing exhibits, wildlife art, decoys, boats, camping supplies, taxidermy, hunting and fishing guides, almost anything an outdoor person could use or want to see. Everything was located in and around the picturesque building. We enjoyed the event for a couple of days, then hooked up the little Airstream and headed on down the coast. Next stop, Huntington Beach State Park in South Carolina. The weather remained uncooperative, being too cold and windy to fish, so we pointed our rig toward our next stop, Mt. Pleasant, right outside Charleston, where we met friends who were also camping, and waited out this unseasonable cold snap. We seemed to be following the frosty front that was

heading south and, after a couple of nights in Mt. Pleasant, we decided to jump ahead of it and motor to Tybee Island, below Savannah. Surely it would be warmer there. Our fishing /camping trip had turned into nothing but camping, and cold camping at that. I had yet to unlimber a rod. Tybee Island was new to us, and we found out pretty quickly that the little town was more a tourist destination than a haven for fishermen. Plus, the storm had followed us south and we had to stay over for an additional night until the torrential rain moved away. As we sat around the little kitchen table in the Airstream listening to the rain and looking at the atlas for a spot in Florida that might be dry, and more importantly, warm, I said, “I know. Let’s go to Astor and the St. Johns River.” Mother’s old winter place is located there but hasn’t been used for years. “We can’t stay at the house in Astor but we can camp nearby and check things out, maybe get a guide for the river.” Two days later, I unhooked the Airstream at a campground right outside Deland, maybe a twenty-minute ride to Astor and the St. Johns River. We had a lot of daylight left, so I told Linda that I was going to do a little reconnoitering. She wanted to do some laundry and finish the book she was reading. Astor, Florida, a small crossroad town, or in this case, river town, is located on Highway 40, a designated Scenic Highway that matches its description. It had been several years since I visited Mother’s house, much less the river where I used to do a lot of fishing with my grandfather. I was pleasantly surprised when I pulled into the driveway because the grounds of the old place were in great shape. Mother had contracted with a neighbor to take care of the mowing and to look after the trees and shrubs, and he was doing a good job. Unfortunately, though, the house needed a lot of TLC. This would be a great job for Tommy, our son, I thought as I walked around the building. Or maybe not. Tom is a contractor in the mountains and too often we forget he has a living to make and can’t run to whatever project his mother or I would like him to do. As I was getting ready to drive to the boat landing, a pair of sandhill cranes landed in the yard close to the highway. They were beautiful and were the first I’d seen since canoeing through the Okefenokee Swamp. This is a good sign, I thought. The public boat landing had changed. I remembered it as a white sand drive cut in the palmetto bushes, with a narrow slanted opening to the water. Now it was paved with a parking area for vehicles and trailers. I pulled into a slot, parked and walked to the bank. The black water flowed lazily toward the north, and I watched as hyacinths were carried along with the current. The landing is just below The Black Water Inn and Marina, where my father used to keep his little skiff. A boat was coming around the bend from that direction and it looked like a small duplicate of Bogart’s “African Queen,” even sounding like his ancient steam engine. It rattled up to the landing and an old guy

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e sp o r ti n g li f e

walked to the bow with the bowline. “Hey, Bud, hold this for me, would you?” I caught the tossed rope and pulled the bow as close to the bank as I could. “Thank you, sir,” he said as he climbed out over the port bow, an ancient tackle box in his hand. “You a fisherman?” The grizzled, sun-worn fella looked ageless. He had a hat pulled close over his eyes and coveralls that had seen their best days. “I wish,” I replied. “My wife and I are camping close to Orange City. I just rode over here to see how everything has changed. I used to fish the river with my grandfather.” “Well,” the old guy replied, “you’re not gonna get any younger. Take it from me. I’ve tried. So if you want to fish, fish.” I watched as he walked across the parking lot to an ancient, four-wheel drive, dually Mack truck. He put the tackle box on the floor in the front seat and came back to the boat. I was still holding the bowline. He took it from me and tied it to a cinder block he had retrieved from the bed of his truck for a makeshift anchor. “I want to show you something. Come aboard.” I stepped over the bow into the old skiff. It had seen many years of use but was well cared for. The amidship’s gas engine was still putt-putting along in neutral. He pointed to a live well that was on the starboard side of the stern. “Look in the well.” I slowly lifted the lid and peered in at the black water that was swirling from side to side. It looked as if something big was in there. “Wait a minute,” the old fisherman said. “I’ll get it.” He stepped around me, leaned over, reached in the cavernous box, and pulled out the biggest bass I’d ever seen. “What do you think?” he said, smiling because I had stepped back a step or two. “Good night nurse!” I replied. “That thing is huge, how much does it weigh?” “Not much, maybe thirteen or fourteen pounds. I’m gonna take her back up to Lake George and turn her loose. You wanta ride?” “I can’t. I’ve got to get back to camp, but I sure want a rain check.” “OK, Sport. I like the way you look and you handled that bowline just right. Here’s my card.” He pulled a bedraggled card from the front of his coveralls, smiled at me and said, “Get yourself a three-day fishing license from Walmart. Call me tonight between 8 and 9 o’clock. We’ll go fishing tomorrow, and I’ll tell you about that bass you just saw.” I did and he did. And what a story! A fish story worth telling, and I hope to tell it to you pretty soon. PS Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

DISCOVER ALL THINGS ULTRA AT

G o l f t o w n J o u r n al

A Roux of Golf Rulings

In a game where policing yourself is the accepted practice, running afoul of the rules can be very costly

Hobart Manley (left) and Billy Joe Patton at the 1951 North and South Amateur By Lee Pace

Photograph from the tufts archives

The questions of balls vs. strikes, blocks

vs. charges and inbounds vs. out-of-bounds have generated more bile, venom, hypertension and heartburn than anything since that Austrian archduke was snuffed out back in 1914. Why, there was a 1950 movie called Kill the Umpire. Those NFL replacement referees were page one stories in metropolitan newspapers last September and led the 6:30 network news. And just who does Mike Krzyzewski “coach” more during a basketball game — his players or the referees?

But in the quiet and cozy world of golf, officiating is a different kettle of fish. Somewhere in the trees is a man with a walkie-talkie, a necktie and a rules book who ventures out only when called upon. Officiating is different in golf, since each player is his own referee. This subject came to mind recently when the unseemly business of penalty strokes, tournament committees and hurt feelings came to bear at the Masters, first when a 14-year-old amateur from China was scolded for slow play and later when Tiger Woods was docked two shots for an improper drop. The Sandhills being the epicenter of golf’s evolution in America, there’ve been no shortage of curious circumstances where the rule book and reality collided. Clyde Mangum spent two decades as a rules official on the PGA Tour

and before that lived a dozen years in Pinehurst, working from 1959-65 as executive director of the Carolinas Golf Association and from 1965-71 as general manager of Pinehurst Country Club. The CGA was staging the N.C. Women’s Amateur in the early 1960s on Pinehurst No. 2 when Mangum was called to the eleventh hole to give a ruling. He arrived to find two middleaged women confronting one another in the woods to the right of the hole. Another match was playing through. “Can I be of any help?” Mangum asked. “My opponent isn’t keeping score properly,” one of the ladies huffed. “As a matter of fact, she’s drunk. Look in her golf bag and you’ll find a pint. She thinks she’s 1 up, I say she’s 1 down.” Mangum knew a loaded gun when he saw one — not to mention a loaded golfer. He knew Rule 18-1 talked about an “Outside Agency.” But he wasn’t about to search a woman’s golf bag for an outside agency made of malt or potatoes. “Sorry, I can’t rule on that,” he said. “I will meet you ladies at the scoreboard after the round and I expect the winner to come and report the match.” Mangum laughed telling the story. “That’s the first and only time I was ever asked to give a ruling and couldn’t,” he says. “Or wouldn’t.” Hale Van Hoy succeeded Mangum with the CGA and was known for wielding a quick wit and a reasonable approach to problems and rulings. Once he took a phone call from a caddie at Pinehurst, who explained the caddies had organized a match-play event and somehow had gotten to the finals with three players. “Well, just play stroke play for the final round,” Van Hoy suggested. Hobart Manley once got a favorable break from an official, felt guilty about

G o l f t o w n J o u r n al

it and proceeded to butcher the next hole to order to give back the break he’d just received. Manley and Billy Joe Patton were locked in a tight battle in the finals of the 1951 North and South Amateur when Manley’s drive on the eighth hole went awry into the scrub pines off to the left of the fairway. He tucked into the trees and advanced the ball as best he could, then announced to Patton he had incurred a penalty stroke while addressing his shot and thus laid three. Patton, thinking he had the cushion of Manley’s penalty stroke, hit a cautious second ball on the par-5 hole. Then referee Willie Wilson queried Manley on his lie in the woods and learned that the ball moved when Manley was not actually addressing the shot. “No penalty,” Wilson said. They halved the hole, but Patton likely would have played it differently had he not believed Manley was playing with a penalty stroke. Manley apologized profusely as they made their way toward the refreshment stand beside the ninth tee. “He felt awful,” says Bill Campbell, a spectator of the match after losing earlier in the competition. “Billy Joe shrugged him off and said, ‘Oh, just buy me a Coke and we’re even.’ But it kept bothering Hobart, and he played the tenth hole to lose. He hacked it around and essentially gave the hole to Billy Joe.” On the fourteenth hole, Manley then began a stretch of five consecutive threes — birdie, par, eagle, par, birdie. “It was one of the most magnificent stretches of golf I’ve ever witnessed,” Campbell says. “He beat Billy Joe 1-up, and Billy Joe played those last five holes 1-under-par. It was a wonderful show of golf and a wonderful show of sportsmanship.” Tom Kite was in the thick of things in the final round of the 1978 Colgate Hall of Fame Classic on No. 2 when he called a penalty shot on himself on the fifth green, saying his ball moved a fraction of an inch at address. No one saw it but Kite, but he assessed himself an extra stroke and eventually tied for second with Hale Irwin and Howard Twitty, one painful and expensive shot behind Tom Watson. Watson won $50,000; Kite won $19,333.33. “It was the only thing to do,” Kite said. “I’ve got to live with myself the rest of my life, and when you break a rule in golf, you suffer the consequences.” John Daly didn’t handle his misfortune on No. 2 twenty-one years later quite as well as Kite. On the par-4 eighth hole in the final round of the 1999 U.S. Open, Daly hit two consecutive putts from off the back of the green. After the second shot lost steam traveling up the severe slope and started rolling back toward him, Daly strode toward the ball and whacked it polo-style, sending it over the opposite edge of the green. He chipped back, three-putted and signed for an 11 when he was penalized two shots for striking a moving ball. “Yeah, it was frustrating and I lost my patience,” Daly said. “But they have too many unfair pins. It’s

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

G o l f t o w n J o u r n al

frustrating. The U.S. Open is not John Daly’s style of golf. I’m not going to Pebble Beach [where the U.S. Open was to be in 2000] next year and watch the USGA ruin that golf course, too.” The 1996 U.S. Women’s Open at Pine Needles is remembered first for the workmanlike manner in which a young Swede named Annika Sorenstam blistered the field. But the contestants and championship officials won’t soon forget Thursday, when first-round play took five hours, 30 minutes after a logjam developed late in the morning on the fifth hole when two players needed a complex ruling. The fifth hole at Pine Needles is a long and difficult par-3, requiring a long iron or fairway wood across the chasm between the tee and green. That day was quite windy, forcing the USGA and a television network to tether a giant balloon to the ground to the right of the hole. Dottie Pepper and playing partner Alice Miller both lost their tee shots to the right and then believed the balloon was in their way for their recovery shots. They were first denied relief by the official walking with their group, then denied by a roving official who moved in to consult. Finally Pepper called championship director Kendra Graham to the scene, and it took Graham ten minutes to arrive from the far side of the golf course. Graham also denied Miller and Pepper relief, and by this time, two groups had played through and three more were waiting on the tee. There were also complications on where to drop and how to get the dropped balls to stop rolling on the slick beds of pine needles. “Girls were taking naps on the tee, the hold-up was so long,” Pepper said. In the end, of course, your conscience is your guide. “There’s something about cheating in golf you can’t handle,” Alice Dye said years ago when talking about the influence of Pinehurst’s Richard Tufts on the evolution of the Rules of Golf. “Cheating just doesn’t work in golf. I remember Mr. Tufts once told me, ‘Alice, there are no bad people in golf. The game itself drives them out.’ The fact that you’re your own scorekeeper, your own referee ... Bad people don’t stay in the game. It doesn’t suit them, it doesn’t work for them. They’re unpopular, no one will talk to them, no one will play with them, they feel out of place because everybody abides by the rules and everybody’s their own referee.” Dye and Peggy Kirk Bell were teammates on the golf team at Rollins College in the 1950s and both remember one teammate who was known to take liberties with the rules on the golf course. Both were saddened but not terribly surprised many years later to learn that woman had taken her own life in California. PS Lee Pace’s book, The Golden Age of Pinehurst — The Story of the Rebirth of No. 2, is available on-site and online at Pinehurst Resort & Country Club.

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June 2013

Blackberry Road Piney woods where we played Fort Apache oozed rosin.

By then it was noon and so hot we lost faith and walked home,

Cow pies baked in the dog day

scratching bug-bites and snag-wounds,

heat while we picked what our Mama had promised she’d turn

displaying our blackberries domed in the pot the way church deacons hoisted

into cobblers come supper time.

collection plates while we sang Gloria Patri.

Braving those thorny hells, we risked an arm. Then a leg. Half a torso

The gnats smelled us coming and haloed our heads when we reached the backyard

till trapped we stood stubborn as martyrs

where splayed in the cool dirt they’d dug under lantana bushes

awhile before we pulled our mortal flesh free, praying hard

our daddy’s hounds snored like the back pews each Sunday before Benediction.

not to spill what we’d gathered.

— Kathryn Stripling Byer Poem excerpted from former North Carolina Poet Laureate Kathryn Stripling Byer’s latest book, Descent.

The Long Run

By Ashley Wahl

Jennie Cunningham is familiar with the story

that her coach and mentor often tells. “Oh, I’ve heard all of them,” the young track star says. But even when she’s heard the same tale twice — and Coach Moody starts telling it again — she listens eagerly, hanging on his every word. What got Jeff Moody into running in the first place, he recounts as if telling the story for the first time, was a turkey. Years ago, there was a two-mile footrace at the Pinehurst Harness Track where the county’s fastest runner took home more than mere bragging rights. They won their very own walking, squawking turkey. In seventh grade, Jeff Moody was hungry for that bird. “I’ll never forget it,” he says. “The whole time I was running, I was thinking, ‘I’m going to win that turkey.’” But he didn’t. Sixteen runners crossed the finish line before he did. So the next race he pushed harder and placed 14th.

“All I’ve got to do is beat thirteen more people,” Moody, now 56, recalls thinking. And when he placed 11th on his third attempt, he promised himself he would train every day. Next year, thought Moody, he would finally claim his prize. But “they didn’t have a race next year,” says Moody, who by then was on the fast track to setting and breaking nearly every running record at Pinecrest High School, where, in 1974, he ran the mile in four minutes and eight seconds — a record he still holds. Post high school, he ran the mile in under four minutes. Most people who know Moody recall that he was slated to go to the Olympic trials in 1980, the year President Jimmy Carter decreed that United States athletes would boycott the Summer Olympic Games in Moscow unless the Soviets withdrew from Afghanistan. He doesn’t spin the tale for pity. “I look at it like this,” says Moody, who led the Pembroke State University (now UNCP) cross-country team to a national championship in 1978. “Had we gone to the Olympics, I know I would have made the team.”

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Photographs by Cassie Butler

His own Olympic dreams denied, Jeff Moody became a coach of champions

Another story that Coach Moody likes telling is the one about a knobbykneed 5-year-old named Jennie Cunningham, the little blue-eyed girl who could outrun all the boys at Southern Pines Elementary School (now Southern Pines Primary), where Moody taught P.E. for over twenty years. “Jennie had a bit of a mental game in kindergarten,” Coach Moody remembers, thinking back to her very first day of school. At the end of P.E. class, Moody walked right up to that pensive, gentle-natured youngster, and, with his irrepressible grin, said, “Jennie, when you get to Pinecrest, I hope you run cross country.” And she, looking back at him with cool blue eyes, said,“I’m a soccer player, Coach.” But Jennie was an athlete through and through. On fitness tests, when the other kids were content meeting the minimum requirements, Jennie pushed herself to keep going. Like the time she did thirteen whopping pull-ups. By eight or nine reps, she’d beaten everybody else in the class, Moody recalls, “but she just kept on going.” After kindergarten, when Moody passed his former pupil in the hallway, he would flash his beaming, gap-toothed smile at her and say, “Jennie, when you get to Pinecrest, I really do hope you’ll run cross country.” “I’ll think about it, Coach Moody,” she would tell him. He must have known she’d think about it, too. When Jennie was 7 years old, Moody told Bruce Cunningham and Ann Petersen that their daughter was going to be a runner. “Just don’t push her,” he advised them. So Jennie pushed herself. Sure enough, in 2009, she joined the cross country team as a freshman at Pinecrest, where a senior named Lexie Schustrom inspired her to be a role model to others — and to push herself. Although she played varsity soccer that spring, soccer conflicted with outdoor track. Jennie chose running. When Lexie graduated, Jennie naturally filled the role as team captain for the track and cross country teams. “She’s really gone above and beyond what you’d expect any kid to do, as a team captain or an athlete,” says Pinecrest head coach John Buchholz, who

has coached Jennie since she was a freshman. “When people say she can’t do something, she gets out there and does it.” As fate would have it, Jennie started running at Pinecrest the same year that Moody retired from teaching at Southern Pines Primary. And last year, when he decided that eleven years of driving back and forth from Southern Pines to Pembroke was enough, Moody left his coaching position there and became the assistant coach at Pinecrest for Jennie’s senior year. Talk about serendipity. Every day at practice, Coach Moody would wheel into a story about one of his own experiences, and often echoed words of wisdom from his own role model, Charlie Bishop, who coached Moody at Pinecrest ages ago. “Coach Bishop once gave me a book about the magic of thinking big,” says Moody, noting the impression that his own coach left with him. “It had not one thing about athletics in it. Not one thing. If you believe you can do something, you’re going to find a way to do it.” Earlier this year, Jennie told Moody that she was going to become the fastest girl in Patriot track and field history to run the 1,600-meter race. This past

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Photographs this page and bottom right contributed, Photograph Top right by Cassie Butler

Jennie Cunningham breaking the Pinecrest High School record for the 1,600 meter race

Above: A page from Jeff Moody’s high school 1975 year-book. He is on the top row third from the left. Coach Bishop is on his right. Below: Jeff Moody won the state Championship two years in a row while at Pinecrest.

April, at the last conference meet of the 2013 season, Jennie did it, breaking former record-holder Lexie Schustrom’s time by more than one second. “There are freshmen here that I can see taking the record from me,” Jennie is quick to note. But for the meantime, Jennie Cunningham’s name and time (5:04:02) can be found alongside Coach Moody’s on the Patriot’s coveted record board. [Editor’s note: Distances were measured in yards until 1978. The 1600 meter race is only 9.3 meters shy of one mile.] Jennie all but dreams in numbers. She knows, for instance, that in the past four years, she’s worn the traction from the soles of exactly fifteen pairs of running shoes. An alert on her iPhone reminds her to replace them every three months. On long runs, she counts her rhythmic strides to slow her breathing. The skin beneath her wristwatch is at least three shades lighter than her hands and arms. Still, you’ll never hear her brag about all the school records she holds — or that she can run a mile in just over five minutes. This month, Jennie graduates with honors, ranked fourth in her class. As she gears up for her first year at Dartmouth College, where she has signed to run with the Big Green athletes, Jennie reflects on the lessons Moody has taught her. And his stories. Everything happens for a reason, Moody told her. His dream of running in the Olympics may have shattered, “but the plane could have crashed, something could have happened, you know. I could have gone over there and decided not to come back,” says Moody. “Here, I’ve had the pleasure of teaching and coaching all these wonderful kids.” Most importantly, says Jennie, she can’t recall a day that he didn’t have a wide smile across his face.

Says Moody to Jennie, “Of all the national championships, and all the times I was an All American, the greatest thing that happened to me in college was getting a degree. If I hadn’t gotten my degree, then I wouldn’t have taught you.” Besides, adds Moody, thinking back to one of his last foot races — the Pinehurst Turkey Trot, 1985. “Winner took home a frozen turkey,” he says. “I finally won it.” PS

Coach Moody at Southern Pines Elementary School

Pure Alaskan Madness

With 600 dogs and more than a thousand miles of frozen wilderness to cover, the famed Iditarod sled dog race may be the last great adventure — even for attending vets

Story and Photographs by Elizabeth C. Lyerly

laska is crazy. There, I’ve said it. The state capital, Juneau, is accessible only by plane or boat — no roads. The people are zany, independent, friendly, kind, rugged, free-spirited, wonderful and different. I meet Timber Tina, a volunteer at one of the checkpoints in Rohn. Her day job is a traveling show where she performs log rolling, ax throwing, and chainsaw carving. She is blonde, big-haired and bigger hearted. When trapped in Rohn due to the nofly weather, she rides nonstop 132 miles on the back of a snow machine. (The word snowmobile is so lower 48.) Then, there is Cordova Kim, who captains a solo salmon fishing boat out of Cordova, Alaska, from May until the quota is met. I meet her at Rainy Pass, and she is the communications person. Kim looks like the computer geek that she is and was the only person I met who wore pajamas! We later rendezvous in McGrath and she thinks Timber Tina is amazing. McGrath Mark is a tall, strong, bearded fellow whose easy laugh makes friends with everyone. We first meet in McGrath, which is a really popular name up here. It is one of four hubs on the Iditarod where commercial

flights are available. It is a town of 350 people and can only be accessed by air. The Kuskokwim River runs by town and is the longest river in North America with no road access. Mark is a volunteer checker and has a cabin twenty-eight miles from McGrath whenever he wants to get away from town folk. His paying employment is as a forest-fire fighter all over the United States during fire season. We will meet again in Shaktoolik. Alaskans just think differently. They’ve routinely been stepping on the back of a dog sled, running in temperatures as low as minus 50 degrees Fahrenheit, slogging through overflow water, blizzards, moose attacks, personal injury and significant sleep deprivation, year after year since 1973. The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race bills itself as The Last Great Adventure. It was not created to re-enact the 1925 diphtheria run from Nenana to Nome as the romanticized version suggests. Instead, it was the brainchild of dog-sled devotees Dorothy Page and Joe Reddington Sr., who both lamented the transition of sled dogs to snow machines. A route was chosen from Anchorage to Nome, crossing the Alaskan Mountain Range, running the frozen Yukon River in the interior and then hugging the coast of Norton Sound on the Bering Sea.

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

That first year, thirty-five teams started and twenty-two finished. The winner crossed under the Burled Arches of Nome in twenty days and the Red Lantern musher, last, in thirty-two days. The trail follows checkpoints with native names that tangle the tongue and stick in your heart —Skwentna, Nikolai, Unalakleet and Shaktoolik. Whimsical English names are also attached to towns, tents and cabin checkpoints. They create daydreams and speak of adventure — Finger Lake, Rainy Pass, Ruby, Cripple, Eagle Island, White Mountain and Safety. I am honored to be chosen as one of the fifty volunteer veterinarians for the trail. Ten of them, including myself, come as rookies — one who lives in Oregon but practices on a remote island in Hawaii out of a large shipping container; a state vet from Barrow, Alaska, whose practice covers 89,000 square miles; a retiree who got a nursing degree at 62 so she could join Doctors Without Borders; a primatologist who rock-climbs on Half Dome and El Capitan; two veterinary surgeons; an emergency veterinarian; a vet with a master’s in public health; and my favorite, an Anchorage resident who grew up on the Aleutian Islands and has twelve state licenses because she just can’t seem to stay in one place. I think my acceptance is in part because I am a kayaker and a long distance hiker. Plus, I called and schmoozed the race administrator and promised in the wide white space on the bottom of the application, in large, bold, black letters, “I AM NOT A WHINER.”

n Anchorage, the rookie trail vets get sixteen hours of continuing education in what I term Trail Triage and Training and do the pre-race check on over 600 dogs. We learn how to do quick yet thorough examinations looking for dehydration, signs of internal bleeding, trauma, lameness, harness rubs, frostbite and diarrhea. We learn that the mushers and the dogs make one team and they are truly teammates. I am surprised to see how small they are, forty-five to fifty-five

pounds, 40 percent female and of mixed heritage. Genome typing comes up with Siberian husky, malamute, borzoi and German shorthaired pointer. I see dogs that look half border collie and some look half hound. These dogs resemble the front of the pack marathon racers, small, lean and wiry, but these teams will cover the 1,100-mile journey in eight to nine days with no pain medicine, anti-inflammatory drugs or steroids. In those nine days, they are required to take one twenty-four-hour break, and two eight-hour breaks. Plus, they are given innumerable voluntary breaks, so actual running time is less than seven days. Checkers, communication personnel, checkpoint assistants and veterinarians, along with any dropped supplies for mushers and dogs, are moved from checkpoint to checkpoint by the Iditarod Air Force. Just as an example, each dog team gets a bale of straw at each checkpoint. That is seventy bales of straw for twenty-one checkpoints and only six bales can be flown in per trip.

It is a Herculean effort. Pilots fly with an exemption from the FAA and have real day jobs. The pilots I encounter include an anesthesiologist, a criminal supreme court judge for the state of Alaska, and a cardiologist. I am given two pieces of advice before flying through Rainy Pass, the most dangerous airspace in Alaska. First, do not throw up in the plane, if so inclined; use your glove for an airsick bag. Second, do not scream unless the pilot screams first. There’s no chance of my screaming because I am speechless. We are flying with a laminated map stretched out on the pilot’s lap, a GPS mounted to the instrument panel and the reassurance that he flew it fifteen times in the simulator in Anchorage the previous week. Being a rookie, I don’t know truth from snipe hunt, but my white knuckles disappear as we wriggle and jounce our way through the pass. The mountains loom near and the air is turbulent, but everything is so close that it actually provides comfort. After landing in McGrath, the weather deteriorates and all flights

screech to a halt. One plane has flipped in Ophir and two have skidded off the runway. Luckily, a few people have been advanced so the race can continue. What is to be an overnight stay on my way to Shaktoolik drags into four days. The first two nights, I go to the checkpoint and do what I came to do, check dogs. At 8 a.m., I wander back to the café and operations center and am told to stay close. We walk the town; I make friends with the operator of The Native Culture Center; we confiscate abandoned sleds and whoosh down the hill crossing the trail and out onto the frozen river. At 2 p.m., we know we are not going to fly out, so back to the checkpoint. Days repeat with intermittent sleep until the last dog team has come and gone. The sky is finally clear and a mob of anxious people are waiting to leave. A dozen of us load 130 dropped dogs that have congregated in McGrath and then take a commercial flight to Unalakleet.

ropped dogs exist for several reasons. Red tags identify critically ill, with pneumonia, bleeding ulcers or other serious injuries. Blue tags indicate dehydration or lameness of a degree that requires anti-inflammatory injections. The majority of the dogs bear white tags, suffering from fatigue or soreness. Crossing the Alaska Mountain Range requires a lot of dog power, but once across and on the flatter portions, this many dogs become a burden on the musher. At every stop, they have to unsnap one tug line, remove four booties per dog, melt snow or warm water, mix feed, massage sore muscles, put on coats, rub ointment into feet and bed down the dogs. Much of this is done bare handed, so nine or ten dogs require much less work than sixteen dogs. We hear, “This one is not pulling well” or “Seems a little lame,” which allows them to be dropped. However much rest the dogs get, the musher gets significantly less. I am assigned to Unalakleet , a town of 750 people, the largest between Anchorage and Nome. It is incredibly windy with gusts up to 45 mph. I go to the checkpoint, drop my gear and supplies, walk to the high school gym and carve out a niche among forty other folks’ backpacks and sleeping bags. Then, back to the checkpoint, where I am fed sourdough pancakes with blueberry preserves. And I get to try whale blubber. I pull a shift from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. The pace is much slower, time and distance have widely

spaced the teams, and I have time to watch the mushers treat their dogs after the vet check. I hold foot ointment for one musher to keep it from freezing while she goes from dog to dog. This is Dee Dee Jon Rowe. She is 59 and her signature color is hot pink. This includes her coat, the dogs’ coats and their harnesses and booties. She will finish tenth and I am impressed, not only with her but how she, at the same time, enjoys and excels at being part of the race. I fall into the sleeping bag. I have been up for at least twenty hours and the distinction between days and nights becomes a blur. I will shower and eat after I get some sleep. At 9 a.m., I am awakened with whispers and urgent shaking. I am not staying in Unalakleet. There is a pilot waiting for me to go to Shaktoolik. I am tired and dirty, but excited to be going to another checkpoint and to be flying in another tail-dragger airplane. Shaktoolik is a town of 350 Inupiat Indians. The entire town had moved in the 1970s up the tiny spit of land to higher ground to avoid being swept away during storm surges. It is tightly sandwiched on the west by Norton Sound and on the east by the Shaktoolik River. The Iditarod Trail snakes its way down The Blueberry Hills, out onto the Peninsula, to checkpoint mile 777. The houses are painted the colors of beach houses in the ’60s, orange, blue, green, yellow and purple — anything to break the monochromatic scheme of white on white. The school is out for the early part of the race and the Inupiat children drop by the checkpoint to see their favorite mushers. At night, the teenagers and adults come to talk, tell tall tales, and play cribbage with Eskimo rules. I think the rules are ever changing and you cannot win. They take us crabbing through frozen sea ice that is measured in thickness by feet, not inches. Enormous crabs yield us a 2 a.m. feast. The teams are spread so far apart that we have abandoned shifts and sleep whenever there is a long break, read books, talk and eat when food is prepared. Our quarters are in the town’s armory, a metal 20-foot x 40-foot building that we have separated into sleeping quarters, kitchen, dining area and communications. It also contains the big red monster, an enormous, red, 4-by-6 composting toilet that requires stairs to use. Our sleeping bags go on a layer of cardboard to make a barrier from the cold floor. Mushers and checkpoint people sleep wherever and whenever.

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

One afternoon, I walk to an old abandoned town my vet friend from New Zealand urges me to visit. It is the first time I have been alone in two-and-a-half weeks, a great opportunity to walk and ponder and think about the great adventure I am having. I see small footprints that look like they belong to a fox and see an old building with snowdrifts over the first story eaves. I have never been in a ghost town and wonder if Eskimo ghosts are friendly. I have a huge sense of wellbeing, so they must be. Back at the checkpoint, we watch two dots on the computer race toward Nome. Mitch Seavey, will win by fifteen minutes and at age 53 will become the oldest winner in the race’s forty-one-year history. His close competitor is Ali Zirkle, the second-place finisher the previous year and clearly this town’s favorite. I have picked a handful of favorites from the pre-race examinations, but mine come from sentiment, not logic. They are middle to back of the pack folks, but full of grit and determination. I have come to have incredible respect for these folks. I eat with them, I sleep with them, I talk to them, but I don’t understand them. How do you get on the back of a sled in the middle of the night and start out with layers of clothing, a headlamp, your dogs, heading out at minus 10 degrees with a 45 mph wind to cross sea ice? You have done this for 777 miles and you have more than 300 miles to go. I just can’t compute that sort of extreme self-deprivation balanced by incredible self-assurance. Back in Anchorage, my last roommate is Cindy Abbot, a musher who has climbed Mount Everest and has now come to Alaska to learn and train to race sled dogs. Her portion of the race was being covered by a documentary film crew. However, at mile 20, she hurt her pelvis when she stuck one leg through the snow while the rest of her body kept moving forward with the sled. She knew immediately that she was injured; the question was how badly. She rode, navigated and did her dog care until she could only stand because sitting was too painful. At her last checkpoint, she crawled on hands and knees to feed and care for her dogs. After traversing 600 miles, she was weak, and hypothermic, diagnosed with a separated pelvis. I meet her on crutches and realize she embodies the quote “More people have summited Mount Everest than have finished The Iditarod.” It truly is The Last Great Adventure. PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

The Clark house — almost a compound — includes several outdoor seating areas and guest cottage, all fenced for Maureen’s three dogs. Below: Henry the Corgi, keeps an eye on things.

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Formal living room, used informally by the family

Coming Home By Deborah Salomon • Photograhs by John Gessner

“I

want this to be about the house, not me.” Maureen Clark, wearing a flowing brown tunic with crocheted trim over pants nipped at the ankle, sits at her butcher-block kitchen counter surrounded by tiles and pottery in country-French blue. Art is everywhere — some so costly she had to skim a little off every paycheck, some framed pictures drawn by her children which, at first glance, pass for professional abstracts. Their portraits, painted while engaged in everyday activities (fishing, swinging in Mommy’s high heels), enliven the formal living room. Is that a TV in the corner? Maureen’s bedroom is girlishly (but not cloyingly) — ruffles, checks, soft green and rose, primitive pine armoire — yet throughout the house carpet and fabric patterns, as well as her outfit, suggest the Middle East — Iran perhaps, where the military family was posted for four years. It makes the movie Argo look familiar.

Maureen is petite. The rooms, although many, have modest proportions in keeping with cottages built circa 1920s. Their delight is in the details — hundreds, intensely personal. Her house, herself.

“T

here is no place I’d rather live than Southern Pines,” writerbusinesswoman-equestrian Maureen Clark begins. Fittingly, then, her home borders downtown, built on land purchased from the Boyds — a field passage for horses and hounds between Weymouth and Highland Pines Inn. Every day Maureen walks her dogs down Weymouth Road, remembering happy years spent playing with her four siblings in their home on Ridge Street, later the house with wraparound porch, on the corner of Indiana Avenue. Since then, life has taken Maureen to several continents and six houses — all of them restorations. In 1998 she was living in Fayetteville, in a

A classic hunt scene highlights the house’s rustic entryway. house designed by Aymar Embrey II of Weymouth, Loblolly and other historic Moore County estates when her father became ill. She visited him in Southern Pines several times a week. “I drove by (this house) and saw a for sale sign. I almost bought it sight unseen. This was the perfect spot — it felt like home.” Her perfect spot, built in 1923, had been the residence/studio of an artist, then Pilot editor Cad Benedict, a great friend of artist Glen Rounds, who walked over often. During World War II the house became apartments for officers. Location, perfect. Condition, less than.

ith her older children away at school, Maureen purchased the house and, with 5-year-old Stephen, moved into the tiny guest cottage during renovations. “I was the neighborhood eyesore for a year.” She began by building out in several directions while rearranging interior space shotgun-style — a clear line of sight from entranceway through the living room, dining room, kitchen to the new back foyer leading onto a porch. Because of this irregular configuration protected by fences, trees, vines and shrubs, the house, from the outside, appears smaller than 3,100 square feet. Main floor rooms including, the master suite, tiny sitting-room/den/boudoir with adorable white chaise. Guest and family bedrooms are clustered around the stairwell — close to yet private from public areas, offering a surprise behind each paneled door. The trick to living with family heirlooms, eclectic art, designer furniture and roadside finds is making everything hang together without obstructing the comings and goings of five children and five grandchildren. Except for a matriarchal portrait and custom-made mahogany bar from Iran, the pine-paneled entranceway, with hunting motifs and peaked ceiling, borders on rustic. On Christmas morning children pile

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

The French glass chandelier hangs so low in the small dining room that guests sometimes touch and admire the baubles.

Galley kitchen — charmingly French country — has unusual wood (not granite) counter tops.

June 2013P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

onto the white living room sofa fronted by a red lacquer and gilt Queen Anne table because there is no great room, “family” room or entertainment center, which explains the TV rarely found in living rooms of this caliber. Here, in splendid surroundings, is where Maureen’s teenagers hung out. Photos and small treasures cover every surface. “I have lots of doodads,” Maureen admits. Unmistakably, this is a woman’s domain. A dressy black and gilt round table with Charleston chairs fills the small dining room. Her children gather at this table for after-dinner political discussions, sometimes heated. Maureen chose to hang an antique French cut-glass chandelier over the table despite the low ceiling, enabling guests to touch and admire the baubles. Photographs of Maureen’s great-great-grandparents stand guard over meals and discussions. The great-great-grandfather from Missippippi pictured lost a leg in the Civil War — but survived. Just behind the galley kitchen with practical wood countertops protected by naturally occurring antimicrobial substances is son Stephen’s room, virtually as it was, reminiscent of English nursery with window seat, blue ticking wallpaper, a worn leather armchair — even the original window poufs. Maureen explains that wallpaper throughout duplicates what hung in Fayetteville — all absolutely stunning, including a bathroom with a large

white block print on a paper-bag brown background. The guest room, with twin wrought iron high-post beds, deep sea blue fabrics and bowls filled with Iranian donkey beads duplicates a magazine photo she loves. Even wall décor is personal: framed Mother’s Day cards, snow geese painted by Maureen’s college roommate, photographs and prints from her grandmother’s house, a depiction of Moore County hounds by Southern Pines equine artist Claudia Coleman counteracted by a startling abstract from Chapel Hill artist Paul Hrusovsky. Persian carpets dominate except for a white woven rug in Maureen’s bedroom, with a few threads chewed loose by Gus, her black Lab puppy. “That’s all right . . . I’d rather have a puppy than a rug.” Upstairs is another world, formerly the “frat house,” during high school and college years. Now, the reimaged attic provides a richly contemporary office-sitting room with, as focal point, a Thomas Link abstract similar to ones hanging in the N.C. Museum of Art in Raleigh. “I bought it out of the back of an art dealer’s car,” Maureen says. “It took a while to pay for it.” Additional guest quarters on this level resemble dormered Cape Cod B&B attic rooms, sparsely furnished, in nautical blues. In all, five bedrooms and four bathrooms (including the huge master-suite bath-dressing room Maureen added), each cleverly tucked away, each artistic, each illustrating a time or place in Maureen’s life.

“The single nicest thing about this house is there’s a pretty view from each window...” 66

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Son Stephen Clarkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s room, above, remains as it was, when he was small. Below, guest bedroom, in Maureenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s favorite blue, replicates a magazine photograph.

Formerly an artist’s attic studio, the suite now serves as Maureen’s office.

rt and memorabilia aside, “The single nicest thing about this house is there’s a pretty view from each window,” Maureen says. “I saw that the first time I walked through it.” Her acre of prime Weymouth real estate owns many parts: An interior designer rents the doll-house cottage. The stone patio along with three seating areas under the trees accommodates party overflow. A manicured grassy section was once used for basketball, baseball and soccer. Fencing makes the area dog heaven. Even here, as with her wallpaper, Maureen continued the past. She moved forty camellias from Fayetteville, then created informality by replanting forsythia and azaleas in clumps. She chose to soften the pine grove (“they looked like telephone poles”) with dogwoods and a yoshino cherry. The redbud tree sprung up on its own. Still standing: an ancient oak split by the ice storm of 2002. Herbs and geraniums fill stoneware planters. Nowhere are the street or neighboring houses visible. “I like the outside as much as the inside,” Maureen says. “I can see the sunset from the porch” which, although furnished in handsome brown wicker with dark blue upholstery, is not screened. Because Maureen prefers open porches. And, after all, this house is very much Maureen Clark. PS

June 2013 P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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The Ancient Marrying Month Mark Twain once observed it’s better to be a young June bug than an old bird of paradise, perhaps because June is a month seemingly designed for the young at heart, beloved by gardeners and rhapsodized by poets. The month is named for the Roman goddess Juno, queen of home and marriage, which ancient lore cites as one reason June was such a popular month for tying the knot, called The Marrying Month in much of medieval Europe. Another reason was pure pragmatism. A bride who got pregnant in June could deliver before the following planting season and recover sufficiently before the fall harvest, when all hands in the field were typically needed. May was also the preferred bathing month during medieval times, so brides were reported to be relatively fresh-smelling — and, of course, flowers were abundant to aid the cause. According to recent government statistics, though, July and August recently overtook June in popularity among modern marrying American couples. All we can say is, there goes the corn harvest. June is only one of four months with 30 days and the one with the longest amount of daylight, which occurs on the summer solstice, this year falling on Friday, June 21. An Icelandic tradition holds that bathing naked in the dew on the morning of June 24 slows down the aging process significantly. Just be sure to dew it either in rural Iceland or your sheltered backyard, June bug.

For Natural Latin Lovers Learning the proper names of plants is a big problem even for dedicated gardeners. Hence our excitement over a newly arrived book called Latin for Gardeners by Lorraine Harrison ($25, from University of Chicago Press), a lavishly illustrated guide to more than 3,000 plant names that are explained and explored. With this fabulously entertaining resource at your fingertips, you’ll amble into your local nursery speaking like a true plant expert. More importantly, it’s loaded with practical information about the origin and characteristics of plants, plus delightful details about plant hunters and the lore of the garden. Did you know that in Victorian Britain a frenzied craze for ferns broke out among gardeners called “Fern Fever”? Proper name pteridomanis? You will if you own this beautiful, indispensable book, a great gift for any Latin lover of the garden.

Dad, It’s the Thought That Counts One hundred and three years ago this year, while listening to a preacher extoll the selfless virtues of mothers in a special Mother’s Day sermon at the YMCA in Spokane, Washington, a married woman named Sonora Smart Dodd got the idea to honor her father with a day dedicated to him. Thomas Smart was a widowed Civil War veteran who raised six children on his own. His daughter’s quest for a national holiday honoring dads flowered in Washington state and grew into a national movement, earning the support of Presidents Wilson and Coolidge along the way, but then hit a wall and suffered decades of derision by newspaper editorialists who feared it would become too commercial, not to mention an all-male U.S. Congress that forever dithered on the subject. It took a good woman to state the obvious, as Maine Senator Margaret Chase Smith did in 1953: “Either we honor both our parents,” she wrote her colleagues, “mother and father, or let us desist from honoring either one. But to single out one of our two parents and omit the other is the most egregious insult imaginable.” Eventually, in 1972, of all people, President Richard Nixon officially established Father’s Day as a national observance. Today, based on the holiday spending habits of Americans, it is the fifth-largest card-sending occasion, averaging roughly 100 million cards and questionable neckties given annually. PS

“Green was the silence, wet was the light, The month of June trembled like a butterfly…” — Pablo Neruda PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

June

Tuesday

Monday

Sunday

CLAY ART SHOW. 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. 5th annual “Cousins in Clay” show. Bulldog Pottery. SENIOR EVENT. 11:30 – 12:30 p.m. Picnic at Memorial Park. Celebrate the beginning of summer with a cookout and bingo. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Missy Raines and the New Hip and Casey Dreissen perform.

PORTRAIT WORKSHOPS. Two NY artists from Grand Central Academy come to Oak Hollow Studios in Carthage to teach painting and drawing portraiture. Oak Hollow Studios, 640 Brinkley Rd., Carthage.

Wednesday

Thursday

LUNCH AND LEARN. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. Wrinkle erasers. Complimentary lunch, gift bags, and specials. The Laser Institute of Pinehurst, 80 Aviemore Court, Suite A, Pinehurst.

SENIOR EVENT. 12:30 – 1 p.m. Banana Split Day. Enjoy celebrating this day by making banana splits. Douglass Community Center, Southern Pines. GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. Jennifer Pollard will be discussing tips how to live longer and more productive lives. Free and open to the public. Given Memorial Library, Pinehurst.

Friday FIRST FRIDAY. 5 – 8:30 p.m. A familyfriendly event. Entertainment includes live music by American Aquarium, food & beverages, and more. Free admission. The grassy knoll adjacent to the Sunrise Theater. JAZZY FRIDAYS. 6 p.m. Enjoy a bottle of wine and dancing with friends under the tent while the Mike Wallace Quartet entertains you with live jazz music. Admission: $10/person. Reservations and prepayments are required for parties of eight or more. Food vendor on site. Cypress Bend, Wagram.

HORSE SHOW. Lumber River Horse Trials. Carolina Horse Park, Raeford. HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION MEETING. 2 p.m. Free. Photo presentation on the history of Pinebluff. Pinebluff Lake and Shelter. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Doug and Telisha perform. Daniel Smith opens.

SUMMER CAMPS BEGIN. Summer Explorers full day camp. SANDHILLS PHOTO CLUB MEETING. 7 p.m. “Old Barns & Buildings” competition. Hannah Theater Center. The O’Neal School campus. OUTDOOR JAZZ CONCERT. 6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Sandhills Community College Jazz Band. Sandhills Community College.

TEEN READING PROGRAM. 5:30 p.m. Teens in grades 6-12 are invited take part in the summer program “Beneath the Surface: Art and Reading for Teens.” Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave.

AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 12 p.m. Karen White with The Time Between. Ticketed event. The Country Bookshop, Southern Pines. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Infants and toddlers Join us for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library.

OLDIES & GOODIES FILM. 2:30 p.m. Based on the book by Harper Lee. Southern Pines Public Library. AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 4:30 p.m. Charles Lovett with The Bookman’s Tale. The Country Bookshop. FAMILY FUN NIGHTS. 5:30 p.m. For children and parents. Southern Pines Public Library.

MOVIE IN THE PINES. 8:30 p.m. The Amazing Spiderman. Free movie! Concessions on site include: Rita’s, Cold Stone, and Hot Dog Joans. In case of inclement weather, the movie will be shown on June 21. Downtown Park, 145 SE Broad St., Southern Pines.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Red Clay Ramblers perform. Cackalacky Sisters open. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen.

SUMMER THEATRE CAMP. A classic story of rivalry and power, Disney’s “Camp Rock: The Musical.” Campers will spend time jamming out and having the time of their lives. Camp is open to rising grades 3-9. Space is limited. STARS Charter School,140 Southern Dunes Dr., Vass. Runs through June 28.

TODDLER BOOKCLUB. 11 a.m. “Reading Rabbits.” Southern Pines Public Library. LEAGUE OF WOMEN VOTERS MEETING. 11:30 a.m. Annual meeting with elections. Table on the Green, Pinehurst. AUTHOR EVENT. 12 p.m. Dorothea Benton Frank with The Last Original Wife. Weymouth Center, Southern Pines.

TODDLER BOOKCLUB. 11 a.m. “Book Bunch.” Southern Pines Public Library. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Join us for stories, songs, and fun. Southern Pines Public Library. AUTHOR EVENT AT THE BOOKSHOP. 5:30 p.m. Rebecca Lee with Bobcat and Other Stories. The Country Bookshop.

FAMILY FUN NIGHTS. 5:30 p.m. Children in grades K-5 and their parents are invited to participate in this dinosaur and sewer themed event! Southern Pines Public Library.

JAZZY FRIDAYS. 6 p.m. Enjoy a bottle of wine and dancing with friends under the tent while the Mike Wallace Quartet performs. Food vendor on site. Cypress Bend Vineyards, Wagram. OUTDOOR MOVIE NIGHT. 9 p.m. Rise of the Guardians. Free. Concessions include hot dogs, drinks, candy and popcorn available for purchase. Village Arboredum. Pinehurst.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Robin and Linda Williams perform. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen.

SANDHILLS NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY MEETING. 7 p.m. Bruce Sorrie on “Birding and Botanizing in Patagonia.” Visitors Welcome. Weymouth Woods Auditorium, 1024 Ft. Bragg Rd, Southern Pines.

TEEN READING PROGRAM. 5:30 p.m. Teens in grades 6-12 are invited take part in the summer program “Beneath the Surface: Art and Reading for Teens.” Southern Pines Public Library.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Join us for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library.

FAMILY FUN NIGHTS. 5:30 p.m. Children in grades K-5 and their parents are invited to participate in this dinosaur and sewer themed event! Southern Pines Public Library.

GOLF TOURNAMENT IN SUPPORT OF ALZHEIMER’S. 1 p.m. Shot-gun and Captain’s Choice game. Cost: $75 (includes golf, cart, range balls and dinner).

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. The Rigney Family and Laurelyn Dossett perform. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen.

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Saturday

SUMMER READING PROGRAM BEGINS. “Dig into Reading.” Southern Pines Public Library. PERENNIALS DISCUSSION. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Ball Visitors Center, Sandhills Horticultural Gardens. DEMO AT THE FARMERS MARKET. 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. Village Green, Pinehurst. SPRING FESTIVAL. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Downtown Aberdeen will feature arts and crafts, food, & live music. MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Hollyhocks Art Gallery. CLAY ART SHOW. 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. 5th annual “Cousins in Clay” show. Bulldog Pottery. AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 10 a.m. Mary Kay Andrews with Ladies’ Night. Coffee and morning snacks will be served. Free and open to the public. The Country Bookshop, Southern Pines. WINE TASTING AT THE FARMERS MARKET. 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. Regular market will also include Black Rock Vineyards. Village Green, Pinehurst. MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Phyllis Golden. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, Pinehurst.

SENIOR EVENT. 8:30 a.m. – 3 p.m. Piedmont Triad Farmer’s Market, one of the largest in the state. Will be prime vegetable and fruit season. Depart from the Campbell House, Southern Pines. MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Betty DiBartolomeo. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. MILITARY APPRECIATION DAY. 1 – 4 p.m. A fun day of activities, including demonstrations, exhibits, music, games and refreshments for the military and their families. Free. Sandhills Community College Horticultural Gardens, Pinehurst.

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Jane Casnellie. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst.

Arts Entertainment & Ca l e n da r June 1

June 3—21

ages and reading abilities to log their reading and attend special events at the library. Program goes through July 31. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

Hollow Studios in Carthage to teach painting and drawing portraiture. Oak Hollow Studios, 640 Brinkley Road., Carthage. Info: (910) 638-8501.

SUMMER READING PROGRAM BEGINS. • “Dig into Reading.” Includes opportunities for all

instructors Jim and Johanna Westmen will discuss design, installation and maintenance of perennial borders. Cost: $5/Horticultural Society members; $10/non-members. Ball Visitors Center, Sandhills Horticultural Gardens. Info: (910) 695-3882.

DEMO AT THE FARMERS MARKET. 10 a.m. • – 1 p.m. Chef Demo by Chef Michael Mayer of Firefly

Kitchen and Bar. Free samples of dishes created on the spot, using the local and fresh ingredients provided by Sandhills Farmers Green Market vendors. Village Green, Village Green Road. W, Pinehurst. Info: sandhillsfarmersmarket.com.

SPRING FESTIVAL. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. The • Spree Festival is free and open to the public.

• 29

June 5

LUNCH AND LEARN. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. PERENNIALS DISCUSSION. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. • • Wrinkle erasers. Complimentary lunch, gift bags and Sandhills Community College landscape gardening

Downtown Aberdeen will feature arts and crafts, food, live music, Kid’s Zone, and fun for the whole family! Downtown Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7024 or www.townofaberdeen.net.

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Morgen Kilbourn. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst.

PORTRAIT WORKSHOPS. Two New York • artists from Grand Central Academy come to Oak

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Diane Kraudelt. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-2489 or www.janecasnellie.com.

June 1—2

CLAY ART SHOW. 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. 5th annual • “Cousins in Clay” show. Special guests are David

MacDonald and Jack Troy. Demo on Saturday at 2 p.m. and poetry on Sunday at 1:30 p.m. Free and open to the public. Bulldog Pottery, 3306 US 220, Seagrove. Info: (336) 302-3469.

June 2

SENIOR EVENT. 11:30 – 12:30 p.m. Picnic at • Memorial Park. Celebrate the beginning of summer with a cookout and bingo. Cost is $3/resident; $6/ non-resident. 210 Memorial Park, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. • Missy Raines and the New Hip and Casey Dreissen

perform. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944- 7502 or www. theroosterswife.org. Key:

• • Art

Music/Concerts

•

Dance/Theater

specials. The Laser Institute of Pinehurst, 80 Aviemore Court, Suite A, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: (910) 295-1130.

June 6

SENIOR EVENT. 12:30 – 1 p.m. Banana Split • Day. Enjoy celebrating this day by making banana

splits. Cost: $2/resident; $4/non-resident. Douglass Community Center, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235.

GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. Jennifer • Pollard will be discussing tips on how to live longer

and more productive lives. This event is free and open to the public. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

June 7

FIRST FRIDAY. 5 – 8:30 p.m. A family-friendly • event. Entertainment includes live music by American

Aquarium, food & beverages, and more. Free admission. The grassy knoll adjacent to the Sunrise Theater. Info: www.firstfridaysouthernpines.com.

JAZZY FRIDAYS. 6 p.m. Enjoy a bottle of wine • and dancing with friends under the tent while the Mike

Wallace Quartet entertains you with live jazz music. Admission: $10/person. Reservations and prepayments are required for parties of eight or more. Food vendor on site. Cypress Bend Vineyards, 21904 Riverton Road, Wagram. Info: (910) 369-0411 or www.cypressbendvineyards.com.

June 8

AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 10 a.m. Mary • Kay Andrews with Ladies’ Night. Coffee and morning

snacks will be served. Free and open to the public. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

WINE TASTING AT THE FARMERS • MARKET. 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. Regular market will

also include Black Rock Vineyards. Village Green, Village Green Road. W, Pinehurst. Info: sandhillsfarmersmarket.com.

• • Film

Literature/Speakers

• • Fun

History

•

Sports

ca l e n d a r

•

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Phyllis Golden. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-2489 or www.janecasnellie.com.

June 9

HORSE SHOW. Lumber River Horse Trials. • An eventing style show. Carolina Horse Park, 2814

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

HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION MEETING. 2 • p.m. Open to members and guests of members. Free.

Photo presentation on the history of Pinebluff, one of the first towns created in Moore County. Pinebluff Lake and Shelter, New England Ave./Peach St., Pinebluff. Info: (910) 692-2051 or www.moorehistory.com.

•

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Doug and Telisha perform. Daniel Smith opens. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944- 7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

June 10

• SUMMER CAMPS BEGIN. Summer Explorers full day camp for ages 5-8 and 8-13 begins its first of ten sessions. Pre-registration is required for the activities. Contact the Southern Pines Recreation &

Parks Department to sign-up. Info: (910) 692-2463 or www.southernpines.net/recreation. SANDHILLS PHOTO CLUB MEETING. 7 • p.m. “Old Barns & Buildings” photo competition.

Hannah Theater Center on The O’Neal School campus, 3300 Airport Road., Southern Pines. Info: www. sandhillsphotoclub.org.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. • Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Join us for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 13 OUTDOOR JAZZ CONCERT. 6:30 p.m. – 8:30 • OLDIES & GOODIES FILM. 2:30 p.m. Based p.m. Sandhills Community College Jazz Band. Free • on the Pulitzer Prize- winning book by Harper and open to the public. Barbecue dinner available at 5 p.m. for purchase. Rain site Owens Auditorium. Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Rd., Pinehurst. Info: mccune-7lakes.home.mindspring.com.

June 11

TEEN READING PROGRAM. 5:30 p.m. Teens • in grades 6-12 are invited take part in the summer pro-

gram “Beneath the Surface: Art and Reading for Teens.” Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 12

AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 12 p.m. • Karen White with The Time Between. Ticketed event

includes lunch by Southern Whey and a copy of the book. Tickets: $35. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

Lee, this 1962 drama won three Academy Awards. Gregory Peck stars as a lawyer defending a young black man against an undeserved rape charge in the Depression-era South. Free and open to the public. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

AUTHOR AT THE BOOKSHOP. 4:30 p.m. • Charles Lovett with The Bookman’s Tale. A mysteri-

ous portrait ignites an antiquarian bookseller’s search through time and the works of Shakespeare for his lost love. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www. thecountrybookshop.biz.

FAMILY FUN NIGHTS. 5:30 p.m. Children in • grades K-5 and their parents are invited to participate in this dinosaur and sewer themed event! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

ca l e n d a r

June 14

June 16

site include: Rita’s, Cold Stone, and Hot Dog Joans. In case of inclement weather, the movie will be shown on June 21. Downtown Park, 145 SE Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376 or www. southernpines.net/recreation.

open. Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944- 7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

AUTHOR EVENT. 12 p.m. Dorothea Benton • Frank with The Last Original Wife. Ticketed event

MOVIE IN THE PINES. 8:30 p.m. “The ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. • • Amazing Spider-Man.” Free movie! Concessions on Red Clay Ramblers perform. Cackalacky Sisters

TODDLER BOOKCLUB. 11 a.m. Kids in • SUMMER THEATRE CAMP. A classic story of grades 3-5 are invited to attend the “Book Bunch” • rivalry and power, Disney’s “Camp Rock: The Musical.” summer reading club. Dinosaurs themed. Southern

SENIOR EVENT. 8:30 a.m. – 3 p.m. Piedmont • Triad Farmers Market, one of the largest in the

Campers will spend time jamming out and having the time of their lives. Camp is open to rising grades 3-9. Space is limited. STARS Charter School,140 Southern Dunes Drive., Vass. Info/tuition: (910) 692-2787 or www.mooreart.org.

state. Will be prime vegetable and fruit season. Cost: $9/resident; $18/non-resident. Depart from the Campbell House, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Betty • DiBartolomeo. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden

June 18

MILITARY APPRECIATION DAY. 1 – 4 p.m. • A fun day of activities, including demonstrations,

summer reading club. Dinosaurs themed. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

exhibits, music, games and refreshments for the military and their families. Free. Sandhills Community College Horticultural Gardens, 3395 Airport Road., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 695-3882 or sandhillshorticulturalgardens.com. Art

Music/Concerts

•

Dance/Theater

Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. • Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Join us

for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

TODDLER BOOKCLUB. 11 a.m. Kids in • grades K-2 are invited to attend the “Reading Rabbits”

Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-2489 or www. janecasnellie.com.

• •

June 19

June 17—28

June 15

Key:

includes lunch and copy of book. Tickets: $37; available at The Country Bookshop. Weymouth Center, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-6261 or www.weymouthcenter.org.

Welcome this wonderful short-story writer to the Sandhills. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www. thecountrybookshop.biz.

LEAGUE OF WOMEN VOTERS • MEETING. 11:30 a.m. Annual meeting with

• • Film

AUTHOR EVENT AT THE BOOKSHOP. • 5:30 p.m. Rebecca Lee with Bobcat and Other Stories.

elections, by-laws review and summer send off. Cost: $12. Open to the public. Reservations required. Table on the Green, 2205 Midland Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 944-9611.

Literature/Speakers

• • Fun

History

June 20

FAMILY FUN NIGHTS. 5:30 p.m. Children in • grades K-5 and their parents are invited to participate

•

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i n i n g

Gui

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in this dinosaur and sewer themed event! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 21

JAZZY FRIDAYS. 6 p.m. Enjoy a bottle of wine • and dancing with friends under the tent while the

MOORE COUNTY

FARMERS MARKET

Food Demonstration by Elliott’s on Linden Saturday, June 22th 9:30 – 11:30” Tomatoes, Strawberries, Fruits, Corn, Veggies, Jams, Meats, Flowers & Plants, Baked Goods, Prepared Foods, Crafts, Goat Cheese Mondays- FirstHealth (Fitness Center) Facility courtesy of First Health 170 Memorial Dr • Pinehurst 2pm-5:30pm Will be open through October 28th

OpenYearRound•Thursdays- 604W.MorgantonRd (Armory Sports Complex) Facility courtesy of Town of Southern Pines Southern Pines 9am-1pm

Saturdays - Downtown Southern Pines Facility courtesy of Town of Southern Pines Broad St & New York Ave 8am-Noon Will be open through October 26th

Call 947-3752 or 690-9520 for more info hwwebster@embarqmail.com Websearch: Moore County Farmers Market Local Harvest www.facebook.com/Moore County Farmers Market SNAP Welcomed Here

Mike Wallace Quartet entertains you with live jazz music. Admission: $10/person. Reservations and prepayments are required for parties of eight or more. Food vendor on site. Cypress Bend Vineyards, 21904 Riverton Road, Wagram. Info: (910) 369-0411 or www.cypressbendvineyards.com.

OUTDOOR MOVIE NIGHT. 9 p.m. “Rise of • the Guardians.” Free. Bring your blankets or lawns

chairs. Come early for free face painting and games. Concessions include hot dogs, drinks, candy and popcorn available for purchase. Village Arboredum. Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-0166.

(910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 28

GOLF TOURNAMENT IN SUPPORT OF • ALZHEIMER’S. 1 p.m. Shotgun start and captain’s

choice game. Cost: $75 (includes golf, cart, range balls and dinner). Info: (910) 692-9609 or www.alznc.org.

June 29

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Morgen • Kilbourn. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-2489 or www. janecasnellie.com.

June 30

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. • The Rigney Family and Laurelyn Dossett perform.

June 22

Seating is by general admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944- 7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

Info: (910) 295-2489 or www.janecasnellie.com.

WEEKLY HAPPENINGS

June 23

Mondays

eral admission. Doors open at 6. Tickets available at the door and online. 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944- 7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

Cowboy Lane, Sanford. Info: (919) 499-8493.

MEET THE ARTIST. 12 – 3 p.m. Jane Casnellie. • Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. LIVE MUSIC AT CIRCLE M CITY. 7 p.m. • • Robin and Linda Williams perform. Seating is by genGather at the wild west town’s free music event. 74

June 24

SANDHILLS NATURAL HISTORY • SOCIETY MEETING. 7 p.m. Bruce Sorrie on

“Birding and Botanizing in Patagonia.” Visitors Welcome. Weymouth Woods Auditorium, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167 or www.sandhillsnature.org.

June 25

Wednesdays

SANDHILLS FARMERS GREEN MARKET. • 3 – 6 p.m. Cannon Park, intersection of Rattlesnake Drive and Woods Road, Pinehurst. Info: sandhillsfarmersmarket.com.

Thursdays

ZUMBA CLASS. 7:35 p.m. No pre-registration • necessary. Cost: $10, cash or check. The Fitness Studio, 1150 Old US 1, Southern Pines. Info: (631) 561-5942 or thefitnessstudioinc.com.

TEEN READING PROGRAM. 5:30 p.m. Teens • in grades 6-12 are invited take part in the summer pro-

Fridays

June 26

Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

gram “Beneath the Surface: Art and Reading for Teens.” Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

CHILDREN’S STORYTIME AT THE • BOOKSHOP. 10:30 a.m. 140 NW Broad Street,

FREE COOKING DEMO. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. • • to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Join us for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

June 27

Key:

• • Art

Music/Concerts

•

Dance/Theater

ingredients. Samples included. The Flavor Exchange, 115 E New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1345.

Saturdays

MOORE COUNTY FARMERS MARKET. 8 • a.m. – 1 p.m. Downtown Park, Southern Pines. SANDHILLS FARMERS GREEN MARKET. • 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. Village Green, Village Green Road W, Pinehurst. Info: sandhillsfarmersmarket.com.

• • Film

Literature/Speakers

• • Fun

History

•

Sports

ca l e n d a r

•

FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

Sundays

NATURE STUDY PROGRAM. 3 p.m. Join • a Park Ranger for a program to learn more about

the critters and plants that live in our magnificent Longleaf pine forest. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167.

Broadhurst Gallery, 2212 Midland Road, Pinehurst. Showcases works by nationally recognized artists such as Louis St. Lewis, Lula Smith, Shawn Morin, Rachel Clearfield, Judy Cox and Jason Craighead. Meet-the-artist opportunities available. Monday-Friday (closed Wednesday), 11 a.m. – 5 p.m., Saturday, 1 – 4 p.m & special appointments. (910) 2954817, www.broadhurstgallery.com. The Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Monday-Friday 9 a.m. – 5 p.m. and every third weekend of the month from 2 – 4 p.m. (910) 692-4356, www.mooreart.org.

Art Galleries ABOUT ART GALLERY inside The Market Place Midland Bistro Building, 2160 Midland Road, Pinehurst. The gallery features local artists. Open Monday-Friday 11 a.m. – 2 p.m. (910) 215-596. ART NUTZ AND RAVEN POTTERY, 125 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Come see the potter at work. Features art, pottery from local potters, handmade jewelry, glass and more. Monday-Saturday 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. (910) 695-1555, www.ravenpottery.com. Artist GAlleRy OF SOUTHERN PINES, 167 E. New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. Features art and fine crafts from more than 60 North Carolina artists. 10 a.m. – 5 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 692-6077. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St. in historic Aberdeen. Exhibit hours are

HOLLYHOCKS ART GALLERY, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Features artwork by local award winning artists, Phyllis Andrews, Betty DiBartolomeo, Equine Sculptor Morgen Kilbourn, Diane Kraudelt, Carol Rotter and artist/owner, Jane Casnellie. MondaySaturday 10:30 a.m. – 9:30 p.m. Fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. Meet the artists on Saturdays, 12 – 3 p.m. (910) 255-0665, www.hollyhocksartgallery.com. Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour, 25 Chinquapin Road, Pinehurst. Features local artist Nancy Campbell’s original oil and watercolor paintings. Tuesday - Saturday 8 a.m. – 5 p.m. (910) 255-0100, www.ladybedfords.com.

The Downtown Gallery inside Cup of Flow, 115 NE Broad St., Southern Pines. Everchanging array of local and regional art, pottery and other handmade items. (910) 693-1999.

The Old Silk Route, 113 West Main St., Aberdeen. Specializes in Asian original art, including silk paintings, tapestries, Buddhist Thangkas and Indian paper miniatures. Monday, Thursday-Saturday 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. (910) 295-2055.

The Gallery at Seven Lakes at the St. Mary Magdalene building, 1145 Seven Lakes Drive. Just nine miles from the Pinehurst Traffic Circle up 211, this gallery is dedicated to local artists. WednesdayThursday 1 – 4 p.m.

Seagrove Candle Company, 116 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. Showcases art of the Sandhills and Seagrove area. Monday, Wednesday-Saturday 10 a.m. – 5 p.m., (910) 695-0029.

Hastings Gallery in the Katharine L. Boyd Library at Sandhills Community College, Pinehurst. Gallery hours are Monday-Thursday 7:45 a.m. – 9 p.m., Friday 7:45 a.m. – 5 p.m. and Saturday 8:30 a.m. – 2 p.m.

June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Dance/Theater

Film

Literature/Speakers

• •

Studio 590 by the pond in Dowd Cabin, 590 Dowd Circle, Pinehurst. This historic log cabin

• •

Music/Concerts

• •

SKY Art Gallery, 602 Magnolia Drive, Aberdeen. Tuesday-Saturday 10 a.m. – 5 p.m. (910) 944-9440, www.skyartgallery.com.

Key:

Art

•

noon – 3 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 944-3979.

Fun

History

•

Sports

PineNeedler Answers

ca l e n d a r is the working studio and gallery of artists Betty DiBartolomeo and Harry Neely. Fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. (910) 639-9404. White Hill Gallery, 407 U.S. 15-501, Carthage, offers a variety of pottery. (910) 947-6100.

Nature Centers Sandhills Horticultural Gardens (32 acres of gardens). The Sandhills Horticultural Gardens are handicapped-accessible. Daylight hours year-round. (910) 695-3882. Weymouth Woods Sandhills Nature Preserve (898 acres). 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. (910) 692-2167. VILLAGE ARBORETUM. 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.

From page 95

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., MondayFriday, 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 Woman’s Exchange Log Cabin Open 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. (910) 295-4677. PS To add an event, email us at pinestraw@thepilot.com by the first of the month prior to the event.

Carthage Historical Museum. Sundays, 2 – Key:

• • Art

Music/Concerts

•

Dance/Theater

• • Film

Literature/Speakers

• • Fun

History

•

Sports

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910.692.0505 PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 2013

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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June 2013P��PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

T h e A c c i d e n ta l A st r o l o g e r

Juicy June

Some good. Some bad. It’s all in the stars Gemini (May 22-June 21) It’s a what-the-fudge kind of a month, Sweet Thang. You got the sun and Mars traipsing through your sign, giving you astrological whiplash. Just when you think you got a handle on things, everything reverses. Do-si-do, like you’re in some nightmare hoedown. So, make them dance moves, swing your partner and get on down. By June 19, things switch it up for the good. If you are smart, you’ll sock away a little for a rainy day. That investment tip this month calls it right on the money, Honey. Cancer (June 22-July 23) This is a beyooteeful time in your sign, and some of this means you gotta lotta Grade A, prime-rib choices. Like between good, better and best. It’s also a good month to put your sleepy pants on and order in — life is good on the home front. Especially if you take your chill pill. My Aunt Pearl used to say when the sun aligns, things mighty fine. ’Specially at home. Butta that biscuit, Sweet Thing, and enjoy yourself. Come the 19th you got some money coming your way and also a mysterious stranger. Better hope it ain’t the tax man. Leo (July 23-Aug. 23) Uh-huh, you done got yourself in a situation, June Bug. I’m gonna go Tammy Faye on this one and strongly urge you to call the prayer line: 1-800-I-Seen-That! You gotta take your own inventory, just like the AA Big Book says. Look within. By the 11th you can whip this situation around. But you got more knots to detangle than a wet Shih-Tzu. Funny, but when you do, life will be sweeter than a Little Debbie cake by the 26th. Virgo (August 24-Sept. 23) When Mercury opposes Pluto early this month, you are going to feel just like a one-legged man in a butt kickin’ contest: excited and confused. Here’s what you do: Pack a bag. You got lots of friends, and this would be a good time to go visit. You got a much better mid-month and you’ll leave June feeling knee-deep in clover. You got more personality than a bowl of Lucky Charms, and you are smoother than Irish Spring soap on a rope. Spread it around, Child. Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 23) Stay closer to your wallet than a couple roaches on a bacon bit around June 7. Life gets sticky, and when it does, use your marbles and stay cool, Baby. You feel all Elvis-style shook up until the 16th, and when the planets shift, you will be in a good — at least better — situation by the 20th. At the end of the month, use that Arthur Murray coupon and try some new moves. You will have the confidence to dance your way outta any situation. Scorpio (October 23-November 21) My cousin Buford has a mule that is more flexible than a Scorpio once they get their back up. You got some compromising to do, Honey. Manage that, and you will find things easy-peasy. But around the 11th, watch out for a jive-talker in your circle with a big hat but no cattle, Pardner. Big Hat may seem exciting, but just be aware you got a fifty/fifty chance of a boondoggle this month. Or, if the stars shift, something marvelous. Can go either way.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 21) Don’t interfere with something that ain’t bothering you none. And don’t corner it if it’s meaner than you. I got that cross-stitched on a pillow. This is a month where you got lots of struggle. If you hear a knock, it’s opportunity, not your car engine. Relationships and fun make it all worthwhile, Sugar. By the 17th you learn something new — and it ain’t just how to French braid. You could have a break through bigger than George Foreman’s Grill! Infomercial time! Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 20) The first of the month is all about that messy flux between Pluto and Uranus. Listen to your friends at the water cooler. By the 19th, you’ll be in another spot, where it looks like you don’t know the difference between come here and sic ’em. Child, you got a month with more highlights than Jessica Simpson’s hair. The 25th brings a little breathing room, and the drama dies down. Somebody say, “Amen!” Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19) The month is a little rocky at the starting line. You’re like the rooster who thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. You’re a natural leader, Child, but sometimes you might check that you got anybody that wants to follow. Keep things loose on the 12th. By the 27th you are back in the spotlight, strutting like a rooster right to the top of the hen house. Pace yourself, Darling. Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20) It would be fun being you this month. You got some June days that are going to leave you plenty to smile about Darling, but just remember to use that tooth whitener. You are feeling your oats by the second week, and also feeling for your wallet. Hold on, Kit Kat. You want to splurge, but be sure you see the bonus check first. That scheme might be the best thing ever — but get your glasses and read the fine print. Aries (March 21-April 20) You are restless, Child. But going from where you are to where thinking about going to is like trading daylight for dark. Yes, you are bustin’ with ideas but you might want to just hold onto your pantyhose until the 19th. There’s change coming on the 27th that will offer you the stage you crave, Honey. Meantime, be sure you take care of them roots . . . part lines don’t lie. Taurus (April 21-May 21) Flying all over like a June bug, ain’t you? That’s the Gemini sun mixing it up with Pluto and Uranus in the beginning of the month. Making you antsy. By the second half of the month, you got to work on things in the love department. Show the love, Baby. Show them a little money, too, ’cause it can’t hurt a bit. Like Uncle Lester used to say, it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one. PS For years, Astrid Stellanova owned and operated Curl Up and Dye Beauty Salon in the boondocks of North Carolina until arthritic fingers and her popular astrological readings provoked a new career path.

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June 2013P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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

Once More to the Island And the finest shellfish in the world

By Geoff Cutler

In April, it’s quite unusual to be skimming

across the water at such a clip, because the seas are generally much too rough at that season to run much above idle. Yet here we were on a beautiful sun-bright morning, ripping along on a glass-calm Penobscot Bay, when off to starboard we spotted the lobster boat. All agreed lobster would make a nice addition to our dinner, so turning over the wheel, we moved in to test our bartering skills with two local fishermen. “Good morning!” we hailed, pulling the boat up alongside theirs and idling down to match their speed. “We’re camping on Resolution Island and wondered if you might sell us some lobsters?” “Lobstas?” The larger of the two men asked, as if lobstering wasn’t what he was doing, his rubber-gloved hands ferreting about inside a trap filled with lobster and good-sized crab. “You’d like to buy some lobstas?” “Well, yes, that’s the idea. We’d like to buy some from you if that’s all right.” “What did you say … yaw campin’ out theya on Resolution?” “Yes, we’re camping on Resolution and we saw you and thought you might be able to sell us some lobster for dinner tonight,” we said, once again finding ourselves deeply entangled in the nets of Down East communication. On our annual boys’ weekend to the island, now approaching its fortieth year, we are continually confounded by the necessary skills required to make ourselves — obvious outliers lacking Maine’s linguistic eccentricities — understood by the locals. Written about in past columns, these stabs at exchange usually leave us in hysterics. “I’ve always wunded what was on Resolution. Have you got some kind of a cabin out theya or somethin?” “Yes we do, and a brand new outhouse as well.” “Hmm … so it’s lobsta you want, is that it? “Please.” “Nobody ever asked to buy lobsta offa my boat befaw. Got cash, I suppose? “We do.” After a few more minutes of this back and forth, we throttled up and out of there with seven one-pound lobsters stowed in the onboard cooler. And all for the immodest purchase price of $8 a pound. Over the years, we’d bought lobster, probably from the fathers of these fellows, and always because we had been buying them pre-market, they’d given us rock-bottom prices. Not these lobster youth. We’d been sorely used. Our destination that morning was the larger island of North Haven, where

we would pick up some necessary supplies. We had also heard of a lobsterman there with a side business as an oyster farmer. He lived up at the head of the Pulpit Harbor inlet, and we found him in his yard scraping the paint off a barn door. He said he’d pick the oysters that afternoon after the tide went out, and he’d have them ready for us the following day. That evening, back on Resolution, we took our rubber gloves and bucket to go see about some mussels to have as an appetizer before the lobster. The rocky beaches of Resolution have been home to some of the world’s best blue shell mussels. We risked slipping and cracking our skulls open, scrabbling across the seaweed-covered boulders leading out to the point of the island. But it’s well worth it. There is no comparison that can be made between the taste of a bag of store-bought mussels, and what you can pick fresh off a Maine island shore, immediately steam over an open fire and plunk directly into smoky melted butter. Those in the know say Maine’s mussels are so good because the water is so cold. We were surprised then, and dismayed, to find that after so many years, our mussel beds had virtually disappeared. Where had they gone? Predators? Disease? They used to lie in plain sight. Great beds of them. Now, we search in vain, and uncover but a few handfuls, buried deep under heavy clumps of seaweed in the crooks of large boulders. In each small clump, we leave some behind, hoping that these survivors will begin the process of repopulation before whatever took their brethren takes them. The next morning, we motored back over to North Haven to pick up the oysters. About a hundred had been picked for us, bagged and tied to a stick and floating at the opening of a damn’s sluice. The frigid salt water had scrubbed each and every oyster clean. In size, the oysters were smaller than those we’re apt to get around here. This is probably because they were younger in age, but the other noticeable difference was that their shells were thinner and green. We ate them raw, pulled from a bed of ice. Fabulous! Saltier perhaps than what we might have, but the other noticeable difference was a slight hint of soil, and interestingly, our oyster farmer had said to us that oysters up and down the coast can all have a slightly different taste depending on their soil environs. His reason for opening the farm had not only been for obvious financial reasons; his oysters are sold all over North Haven and Vinyl Haven, and they’re also sent back over on the ferry to the mainland and distributed to many fine restaurants there, but he knew they would be distinctively delicious because of Pulpit Harbor’s soil. You learn something new every day. Now, the reason for recounting all of this to you, is that Thoughts From The Man Shed, when reflecting on this annual venture, realized that this year, it was all about fish. The finest and most delectable shellfish available, and if you are a fan of lobster, mussels and oysters, and you can access them directly out of their native Maine habitat, and then eat them immediately thereafter, you’ll just be amazed at the difference. PS Geoff Cutler is owner of Cutler Tree LLC in Southern Pines. He is a regular contributor to PineStraw. He can be reached at geoffcutler@embarqmail.com.

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

June 2013

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June PineNeedler How sweet it is!

ACROSS 1 Baseball team 5 Men’s neckwear 8 Angelic ring 12 Capital of Western Samoa 13 Candy company 15 Dutch cheese 16 Fishing spool 17 Outer’s opposite 18 Praise enthusiastically 19 Consecutive TV shows arrangements 21 Reporter 23 Come in the door 25 European mph 26 Slamming sound 28 Prune 30 Cry like a cat

Sudoku:

Fill in the grid so every row, every column and every 3x3 box contain the numbers 1-9.

By Mart Dickerson

33 Candy company 35 Dine 37 Three feet 39 Youngs Road morsel 40 Not young 42 Distress call initials 44 ____Chi 45 Small bird 47 _____Schwartz, toy company 49 German “nothing” 51 Fall 53 Primitive shelter 55 Eat lightly 56 Bath 58 Midwestern state denizen 60 Sacred place 64 Candy company 68 Entreaty

69 Apse, nook 71 Atmosphere 72 Alack’s partner 73 Sticky 74 Snip 75 Fable 76 Robert E. ____ 77 Soothing, hot beverages DOWN 1 Candy company 2 Dueling sword 3 Stadium level 4 Noticeable 5 Christmas tree decoration 6 The Pine Crest, for example 7 Paradise 8 Candy company 9 First man 10 Molten rock 11 Sign 13 Rhythm 14 Star __ (TV show) 20 __ Saxon 22 Typing rate 24 Caviar 26 Facial hair 27 Spring flower 29 Old-fashioned dads 31 Words of promise 32 Anger 33 Stat! 34 Santa’s helper 36 Large weight unit 38 Insult in slang 41 Dit’s partner, in Morse Code 43 Moses’ mountain 46 Void a check (2 wds.) 48 French “yes” 50 Lens in the eye 52 Situate in a spot 54 Common finch 57 Stopper, plug 59 Curds and __ 60 Canned meat brand 61 A country’s friend 62 Tidy 63 Flour maker 65 Farm animal 66 Opera solo 67 Dozes 70 Stage prompt

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Puzzle answers on page 81

Mart Dickerson lives in Southern Pines and would welcome any suggestions from her fellow puzzle masters. She can be reached at martaroonie@gmail.com

June 2013

southwords

Sand in Our Shoes Swept up in the high drama with ice cream on the line

By Jane Borden

Rarely did I wake in advance of

the golf cart and its morning-alarm song. Almost always, however, the cart itself stirred me — its tinny travailing engine, the rumble of wheels over grass and sand — before the wail of its driver. “Get up, get up, get up everybody — WHOOO — get out of that bed, you sleepyhead. I know you’re still in that sack.” At this point, Cap’n Purcell (Purcell Jones), the leader and owner of Camp Morehead by the Sea, in Morehead City, would shout a name or two of campers or counselors inside. “Caroline? I know you’re still in that bed! Sarah? Get up, get up, get up everybody . . . ” The last few words grew quieter, a Doppler effect as he drove to the next building.

If your name had been shouted, it might mean that Cap’n liked you. But more often it meant you’d recently been in trouble (always the case if the name shouted was a counselor’s), so now he had the right to pick on you publicly. Then again, good-natured ribbing also meant he liked you. Whose name had he shouted and why? Was she flattered or embarrassed? We thought these things were very important. Sometimes if you rose early and waited outside for the cart, Cap’n would let you ride along for the remainder of his wake-up route — including the boys’ cabins. “Howdy! I know you’re still in that bed!” Howdy’s name was always shouted. Even if Howdy, a counselor, wasn’t in trouble, he was always kind of in trouble, a source of humor and adoration among the campers. Howdy was very important. After waking, we all dressed and filed to the dining hall for breakfast, where Cap’n announced each cabin’s assigned activities. This was a bit of a pump fake, though, as the fun didn’t start until after inspection. Every day we cleaned those cabins. And each morning they were full

of sand again. To keep us from grasping the Sisyphean nature of our task, Cap’n promised an end-of-session ice cream party to the cabin with the highest cumulative inspection scores. Game on. The sink was the easiest responsibility on the chore wheel: a small enclosed space that was only ever studded with toothpaste. Someone checked the clothesline, bringing in anything dry. Someone made sure the cubbies were orderly. There were also the latrines and showers, of course, jobs shared with ambassadors from the other cabins in the building. The hardest task was the floor. No matter how much one swept, she could still feel sand under her feet. Shoes were ceremoniously discarded at the beginning of each camp session, so the inspectors didn’t need eyeballs to sense sand. And there was no point in sweeping at the beginning, as girls coming in and out, executing their own chores, would track the sand back in. Furthermore, if the cabin next door swept after yours, its lines of sand would inevitably find their way into your doorway. So the camper assigned to the floor always waited until she could see the inspectors crossing the lawn. Then she moved swiftly and stressfully. It was high drama, an ice-cream party on the line. Everyone in the cabin pitched in, sliding around to locate missed spots or following behind dusting baby powder to soften the floor’s touch. If a sandy spot were located after the inspectors’ arrival, a camper would leap onto the mine, as it were, standing on the spot in hopes that the inspectors wouldn’t step there. As we aged and began occupying the higher-numbered cabins, we put less effort into inspection. We came to understand that the counselors were only pretending to be strict. We noticed that when they stood in the corners and whispered, they were actually joking about the previous night’s antics in town. We realized that we could have ice cream whenever we wanted, and that, anyway, it wasn’t that great. But as kids we thought these things were very important. And I suppose they were. PS Jane Borden is the author of the highly-acclaimed memoir I Totally Meant To Do That.

June 2013P�� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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