Catching Lightnin’ Bugs

By any descriptive name, they’re pure summer evening magic

By Ray Linville

I never heard the word “firefly” until I was an overgrown adult. When I was living in the North, someone in the winter mentioned that he missed seeing fireflies.

I don’t understand why anyone would want to refer to a lightnin’ bug by any other name. The term “lightnin’ bug” is so descriptive (even if it is a beetle, not a bug — but certainly not a fly). It’s one of the few names that perfectly describes the creature.

You can say “lightnin’ bug” only once to a 2-year-old, and she will immediately know what you’re talking about. “There it is,” my granddaughter said when I asked, “Where’s the lightnin’ bug?” without any explanation.

It’s a familiar sight on summer evenings at dusk as small children marvel at the blinking lights that slowly fly above the ground to heights where they disappear from sight. In a less gentle world, children once even captured these critters to make a lantern. It would be the only light permitted in a dark room and provided the perfect setting for telling tall tales, particularly ghost stories.

When I was growing up, catching lightnin’ bugs was the summer sport of my neighborhood. From older kids, I learned early that using a Mason jar was the perfect way to catch them. The glass jar showed the evening’s collection as it increased and also let the blinking lights harmonize in a silent rhythm. It’s hard to imagine that simply staring into a jar could be so entertaining.

The lesson of catching lightnin’ bugs was not complete until we agreed to release them into the air before we went inside our houses at bedtime. It was the first way that generations of future anglers learned a “catch and release” policy before holding a rod and reel. Even though a lightnin’ bug has a life span of only two months, as kids we were convinced that it would live forever if we didn’t harm it.

As parents, when you think your kids are ready for a “birds and bees” discussion, just remember the lightnin’ bugs. All that summer magic that they produce is simply flashy flirting — males flash their lights to attract the ladies, who reply with their own flashes.

More than half of the people in North Carolina use “lightnin’ bug” exclusively as the name in contrast to about 6 percent who use only the term “firefly.” (The others use both names interchangeably.) In western parts of our country, firefly is exclusively used. Of course, they’re confused because fireflies, er, lightnin’ bugs, that live in California and places in the West don’t light up like the species in our area.

If you want to catch a flashing bug, use a Mason jar, and be sure to call it a lightnin’ bug. Just don’t call it a firefly.  PS

Ray Linville writes about Southern food, history, culture and, sometimes, Mason jars.

Auspicious August

Have your cake — and half the icing too

By Astrid Stellanova

I’ve always gotten a kick out of how August-born Leos are creative types —extroverted and full of drama. But August-born Virgos are analytical types, who like working hard and being of service. This explains how come August is a lot of things to a lot of people: the month, for instance, we celebrate National Golf, Picnics, Peaches and, last but not least, Romance Awareness Month — with something for both sides of the spectrum to get a big old kick out of, Star Children. Ad astra — Astrid

Leo (July 23–August 22)

Gluttony is still a character defect, last time I checked. And when someone brings you a birthday cake, that does not mean you can scrape all the icing off, eat it till your stomach hurts and leave the plain old bald cake sitting there for everybody else. You know what you like, and once you’ve gone after it, you don’t care one iota if that sticks in someone’s craw as you swallow the last bite.  Celebrate yourself, Honey Child, but remember that might mean you leave at least half the icing on the cake for your friends.

Virgo (August 23–September 22

There was a time when being retro wasn’t cool. You missed that memo. Now you’ve grown into yourself and the time is finally right. Just keep that chin up and let everybody think you were simply way too cool to ever give a fiddle-fart what everybody else thought. Then become that person, Sugar.   

Libra (September 23–October 22)

Somebody ought to thank you, Captain Obvious. You have mastered the finer points of things that most people might think everyone sees. But they don’t, and you know it. So be true to yourself, Child, and let the jokes roll off your straight back. Busting out with a cuss word is not a good way to exercise your vocabulary.

Scorpio (October 23–November 21)

It has been an uphill climb for you, you’re hot and bothered, and your brain is as fried as a pork rind. Just when one weight rolls away another seems to find you. It’s easy to be you, because nobody else would take the job.  But it sure is going to have its perks; be patient.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21)

Some think you are too big for your britches and have nowhere to hide.  Maybe you are. But maybe you have the right to stand up for yourself and not be overlooked or miss being counted. Everything sure isn’t what it appears. Like my bumper sticker says, honk if you love a good argument.

Capricorn (December 22–January 19)

You are still standing back, still wondering if you have what it takes.  Seriously? Does Dolly Parton let a bad hair day keep her off the stage? No, Honey. Your life didn’t start yesterday and leave you behind. It starts this very second so don’t miss it.

Aquarius (January 20–February 18)

What’s keeping you from the greatness you are born to enjoy? One degree of separation, my sweet pea. Only one. If you still want it, go for it. Unseen hands are reaching to help, and even if they are calloused, take them and dance.

Pisces (February 19–March 20)

Your honor student and your dog may be smarter than everybody else. But, Child, does that mean you are — all the time?  Don’t confuse pity with understanding. Also, don’t waste your last dime buying them lottery tickets, either.

Aries (March 21-April 19)

Are pork and beans your two major food groups? Is Pigeon Forge your idea of heaven? Don’t apologize. Are you sure you want to be someone other than who you really are?  Bless your heart. You are just fine as you are, and pass me the Texas Pete. 

Taurus (April 20-May 20)

Your reasoning lately makes no kind of sense. That’s like confusing collards with grits. When the whole mess in front of you is over and the collard stink clears from the room, the good news is your mind is going to clear, too. Blue skies are coming.

Gemini (May 21-–June 20)

Does your heart go pitter-patter when you hear a Harley? Is there a part of you that won’t be tamed? You let loose with the national anthem like you wrote it and make everybody smile. These passions are what make others love you, Sugar. Live your life out loud.

Cancer (June 21–July 22)

There’s a fine line between speaking your truth and using it like a blunt object. You scared your friends and neighbors, hollering as if that makes your argument one bit stronger. Sugar, it didn’t. Elvis died in August. The Mona Lisa was stolen in August more than a century ago — and it took two years to recover. It’s a tricky month ahead. But you don’t have to take that long to get a grip.  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.

Dawn Patrol

Look for the common nighthawk at sunup or sundown

By Susan Campbell

Common nighthawks can be found all across the Sandhills and throughout Piedmont North Carolina, but they are neither “common” nor are they “hawks.”

For one thing, nighthawks feed exclusively on insects, which they dine on mostly during the night. Nor do they grab their prey using their talons as true hawks do. Instead they use their oversized mouths to snap up beetles and other insects in mid-air.

Nighthawks take to the skies mainly at dawn and dusk when insects are most active. Given their aerodynamic prowess, though, nighthawks are very successful predators at any hour. Due to their terrific night vision, they’re able to hunt quite effectively in total darkness. It is not, however, unusual to see them feeding during daylight hours, especially when they have young to feed. Look for them in early summer, when cicadas, grasshoppers, larger wasps and other bugs are especially abundant. Their characteristic low “peee-nt” call and erratic moth-like flight is unmistakable.

Common nighthawks spend much of their day perched on pine branches. Invisibility is the goal, and it is easily attained with their mottled black, gray and white feathering. Their nests also are well camouflaged. On the forest floor, females simply scrape out a spot to lay their speckled egg, which blend in well with the mineral soil and miscellaneous debris typical of native arid terrain. Females perform a feeble “broken wing” display when disturbed. This is the only defense they have to draw potential predators away from the eggs or young.

A great place to encounter a nighthawk is at an airport or any other large open area. There, you’ll likely hear the unmistakable “booming” of males during the early morning. The unique noise is not a vocalization but comes from air passing over the wing feathers of breeding males as they dive through the air.

Unlike some other species, the urbanization of the Triad and Sandhills has not taken a big toll on nighthawks. For instance, the abundant insects drawn to floodlights at the Piedmont’s many athletic fields and other outdoor venues provide nighthawks with excellent habitat to support their families. And nighthawks are one of only a handful of bird species that seem perfectly at home nesting on flat rooftops. It is not unusual to see or hear nighthawks at summer baseball games or early fall football games throughout the region.

Found in so many open areas in the Eastern United States in summer, common nighthawks begin to move south in early fall — often in large flocks. They migrate long distances to winter destinations in Central America and northern South America. But all across Piedmont North Carolina during August and September, you can spot them just before dark in the evening or early in the morning. So you have lots of time left to spot a nighthawk this season — keep an eye out! PS

Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com or by phone at (910) 695-0651.

Gone Fishin’

By Jim Dodson

As you read this, I’m sitting by a trout stream in an undisclosed location somewhere deep in the North Carolina mountains. If I was wrapped in hickory smoked bacon, Lassie probably couldn’t find me.

But fear not, friends, I’ve left behind a few well-chosen words from my dear old friend Ogden Nash, who always has something timely to say.

To Donald on his way to Cleveland:

Love is a word that is constantly heard,

Hate is a word that’s not.

Love, I’m told, is more precious than gold,

Love, I have read, is hot.

But hate is the verb that to me is superb,

And love is a drug on the mart.

Any kiddie in school can love like a fool,

But hating, my boy, is an art.

   *

The danger of a hole in the porch screen:

God in his wisdom made the fly

And then forgot to tell us why.

   *

An ode to poison ivy:

One bliss for which there is no match,

Is, when you itch,

To up and scratch.

   *

Song of the Interstate:

I think I shall never see

A billboard lovely as a tree.

Indeed, unless the billboards fall

I’ll never see a tree at all.

   *

Wish you weren’t here:

Some hate broccoli, some hate bacon,

Some hate having their picture taken.

How can your family claim to love you

And then demand a picture of you?

     *

To the family at the start of the week:

How pleasant to sit on the beach

On the beach, on the sand, in the sun

With ocean galore within reach,

And nothing at all to be done!

No letters to answer,

No bills to be burned,

No work to be shirked,

No cash to be earned.

It is pleasant to sit on the beach,

With nothing at all to be done.

     *

To the same family at the end of the week:

One would be in less danger

From the wiles of the stranger

If one’s own kin and kith

Were more fun to be with.

     *

And finally, a few original Ogden-inspired lines jotted down by a
pristine stream where the trout are laughing at my hand-made flies:

A gal at the beach paints her toes,

To catch the attention of beaus;

But a guy at the beach will just scratch his feet,

And wonder if anything good’s left to eat.

     *

Gardener’s lament:

To a gardener  in the heat of late summer,

Oh, my, what a seasonal bummer,

With hydrangeas so wilted, you feel almost jilted,

It’s a wonder you bother to rose.

     *

Politics as use-you-all:

I suppose I’m the Average American,

Tho I can’t say  just how the hellican,

Vote for these two, either one of which who

Make me wish I was just a mere skeleton.

     *

A brief escape:

So here I sit by a stream,

Dreaming the American dream,

I might not come home, just pick up and roam,

At least till I find some ice cream.  PS

Contact editor Jim Dodson at jim@thepilot.com.

August

One for the Kids

This month, as part of the popular Movies by the Lake series, The Aberdeen Parks and Recreation Departments and sponsors will show The Good Dinosaur, a Disney/Pixar film that follows a young Apatosaurus named Arlo and his unlikely friend, a feral cave boy named Spot. On Friday, August 12, from 8:15–9:30 p.m., bring the whole family along to experience this Jurassic adventure on the big screen. Free admission; concessions available for purchase. Aberdeen Lake Park, 301 Lake Park Crossing, Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7275 or townofaberdeen.net.

Band Together

On Sunday, August 7, 3 p.m., Weymouth Woods Nature Study features Hummingbird Banding with Ornithologist Susan Cambpell. Witness the delicate process of handling these tiny birds, collecting data, and banding and releasing them — a rare and specialized activity that will render you absolutely spellbound. And if you get a chance to explore a longleaf trail, who knows what other wild things you’ll encounter? Weymouth Woods-Sandhills Nature Preserve, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167.

General Admission

Join Retired Maj. Jason Hawk for In & Out at the Outpost on Thursday, August 25, at 7 p.m. This free lecture will focus on the life and legacy of Gen. George C. Marshall, the soldier and statesman whom Winston Churchill called “the last great American.” Marshall had a home on Linden Road from 1944 until his death in 1959. Learn more about Marshall’s life and connection to Pinehurst during this summer evening program. Given Outpost, 95 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-7002.

Banjo-ification

On August 5, 5–8:30 p.m., First Friday presents Parsonsfield, a five-piece alt/folk band from Northampton, Massachusetts. Think: banjo in the park with a rowdy, rock ’n’ roll spirit that stomps out all the rules. Chris Freeman (vocals, banjo), Antonio Alcorn (mandolin), Max Shakun (vocals, pump organ, guitar), Harrison Goodale (bass), and Erik Hischmann (drums) recorded their debut album in 2013 under the moniker Poor Old Shine, but changed their name in July 2014 following their inspired experiences recording two albums in Parsonsfield, Maine, at producer Sam Kassirer’s farmhouse studio/retreat. Rain or shine, First Friday concerts are free and open to the public. Food and beverages available for purchase. Alexandra King opens. The Preservation Green (grassy lot) adjacent to the Sunrise Theater, 250 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or firstfridaysouthernpines.com. 

Frank Admiration

On Thursday, August 18, beginning at 7:30 a.m., golf professional Scott Holmes will attempt to play one-hundred holes of golf in 12 hours as a tribute to his late uncle, Frank Smither. Frank lived with a developmental disability and was an active member of The Arc of Moore County and the community for many years. Pledges per hole and flat donations will benefit The Arc’s social and recreational programs, which Frank loved. “Fore For Frank” will take place on Course #4 at Pinehurst Resort. Friends of The Arc who sponsor or contribute $100 or more will be invited to an evening celebration and entered into a raffle to win two tickets to “An Evening With David Feherty,” a benefit for the Linden Lodge Foundation on Friday, August 19. For more information or to volunteer, please contact The Arc of Moore County at (910) 692-8272. Donate here: www.foreforfrank.com.

Pop Goes the Matrix

The Dancing Dream is a professional ABBA tribute band based in New York City and so close to the real deal that watching them will feel like experiencing a glitch in the matrix. And you’ll love it. On Sunday, August 28, at 3 p.m. Vision 4 Moore presents “A Tribute to ABBA”, a high-energy concert that benefits Meals on Wheels of the Sandhills and The Linden Lodge Foundation. In 2012, this sparkling tribute band appeared on The Colbert Report. Don’t miss the chance to see them play in the Pines. Tickets: $25 (general admission); $30 (day of show); $35 (center orchestra). Robert E. Lee Auditorium, 250 Voit Gilmore Lane, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 365-9890 or www.vision4moore.com.

Making Paper

On Tuesday, August 16, from 9:30 a.m. – 3:30 p.m., artist Kathy Leuck will lead “Playing with Paper”, a crafty workshop for students of all levels. Alter paper in ways you’ve never imagined. Use a sewing machine and Gelli printing plate, make your own rules, and create one-of-a-kind note cards and collages that will change the way you look at paper evermore. Cost: $50; $45 (associate members); $40 (members). Includes lunch. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange Street, Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org.

Carolina Chronicles

In Slave Escapes & the Underground Railroad in North Carolina, authors
J. Timothy Allen and Steve M. Miller use harrowing first-hand accounts to investigate how African Americans escaped oppression in a dark chapter of Tarheel State history. Hear them discuss Quaker safe houses and freed slave communities on Saturday, August 27, 4 p.m., at this free Meet the Author event. The Country Bookshop, 140 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

Bosom Buddies

Three words: Sugar Kane Kowalczyk. On Thursday, August 4, at 7:30 p.m., Sunrise Theater Summer Classic Series presents Some Like it Hot (1959), the  Billy Wilder film starring Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon. When two Chicago musicians witness the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Joe and Jerry flee town (in drag!) as Josephine and Daphne, the newest members of an all-female band fronted by a ukulele-playing blonde named Sugar Kane Kowalczyk (Monroe). Mayhem and hilarity ensue. Screening sponsored by Whit Lauter. Tickets: $6. Sunrise Theater, 250 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or sunrisetheater.com. 

Planting Happiness

Lunch and Learn in the Gardens with Master Gardener Bruce Fensley will ready you for Mama’s spicy collards. On Monday, August 22, learn when to plant which root and leaf crops and how to plan for fresh veggies all fall and winter. Free one-hour workshop begins at noon. Bring your own lunch; drinks provided. Ball Visitors Center, Sandhills Horticultural Gardens, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Register by email: landscapegardening@sandhills.edu. Info: (910) 695-3882 or sandhillshorticulturalgardens.com.  PS

Senses of Summer

A lifetime of family vacations shaped the author’s sense of time and travel, emphasizing the importance of simply being present

By Sam Walker

It’s been said that humans are marvelous sensing instruments. Smells, sounds and sights can be powerful triggers of memory and story. This has been especially true for me in experiences of summer. Long before there were Currituck sunsets or Oak Island strolls, there was the back seat of an old Buick on its annual trek from a Philadelphia suburb to the Jersey Shore. Stuffed in between bedding, a Samsonite suitcase and the dreaded summer reading books, I’d try to fall asleep.

What air conditioning? In the early ’50s, blasts of summer air through open windows and parents’ cigarette smoke made the trip a torture to be endured. Mercifully, a two-lane road called the Black Horse Pike signaled hope. The last turn, air changing, the night quieter and rest came. That is, until the fragrance of marsh and tidal mud flats began to stir my consciousness. Low tide brought high hopes of adventure; and something else I came to realize — a peace awakened, a settling of spirit I still treasure.

Time turned into an overstuffed station wagon and a bright orange, slightly rusted VW “Thing” winding down the final stretch of a Maine coast road. Passing Harmon’s store and the sign for Prouts Neck, the energy of anticipation grew feverish. Songs learned the previous summer swelled, as the caravan crossed the finish line and acknowledged the welcome wave from Nick, the rotund summer cop.

Down the lanes shouts of friends reunited mixed with the laughter of the children who simply had to have the bikes unloaded first. Off they went with shrieks of “come on” in the hope that pals not seen in a year would be back at the same old cottage. The coolers moved to the fridge but all else could wait. Neighbors hugged and hollered “hey” across porches and driveways. Magic beckoned with sounds of stories from circles of beach chairs, cookouts on the rocks by the bay, evening sing-a-longs, and “hoots” from a sea glass cave at low tide — maybe a piece of blue this year. On the first new morning, birdsong joined the quiet harmonies of the sea, rendering a settling of the spirit once again.

As years and family grew, a new oasis was discovered. Vistas framed by ancient live oaks draped in moss welcomed us for several summers to the wonder and mystery of the Lowcountry. Causeways connected islands, finally leading to the one most seaward. Fripp Island, named for a clever swashbuckler and steeped in lore of pirates and Gullah heritage, boasts wide beaches sloping gently to an ocean that can be both tranquil and treacherous.

Early morning bike rides featured a tapestry of colors — great blue heron, snowy white egrets, slumbering gators the shade of mud and forest, brilliant oleander, and always the oaks. Presence mattered. Time did not.

The island store had a special nook with shelves of Pat Conroy books. He lived on Fripp, and the proceeds from book sales helped support the island conservancy. I hoped I would run into Pat, be invited for supper and chat about how his stories always touched something in me. He once told an interviewer, “I write to try and explain my life to myself.” I savored everything he gave us. I missed seeing him then, and hear him now in the words he left behind.

During one such island visit, a beachside afternoon of umbrellas, dolphins and parades of brown pelicans was jolted by a low-flying rescue chopper. The tranquil sandbar of yesterday had, without warning, turned into a treacherous riptide that would tragically claim a young life. I stood with the family at water’s edge. Presence mattered. Time did not.

Even now the scene is vivid. The seemingly blissful world of live oaks and blue heron can also hold scars of sadness. At eventide that day, the pelicans returned gliding low along a now-deserted beach. It seems that life has times when spirits are shattered, but always, I believe, with the promise of place and memories that settle us once again.  PS

Sam Walker, a retired minister, maintains a curiosity about life and is an old friend of PineStraw

Straight Off the Shelf

The comfort of a country store

By Tom Bryant

Over the years I believe I’ve accumulated enough knowledge to become something of an expert on country stores. One of my favorites is Slim’s Place, the one I frequent the most and perhaps have something of a bias toward, since my good friend and hunting buddy Bubba owns it.

Discovering country stores became a hobby for me on our many road trips across the country. When I venture north and west of the Mason-Dixon line, I have a tendency to equate my experiences to those in the sunny South, thinking they would automatically be different. However, I’ve discovered that often that premise is not true. For example, on a recent trip to the state of Washington, I checked out numerous backcountry small stores and, to my delight, found that most of them seemed to be familiar the minute I walked in. The reason for this, I believe, is the people who frequent these establishments. I noticed they aren’t different from their counterparts across the nation. They might talk a little differently, but hey, folks have said that I sound a little funny myself.

What makes a country store a country store? To me it’s the merchandise stacked on shelves, sometimes haphazardly. Things you will not find in other mercantile locations. For example, pickled eggs and pickled sausage links, cast iron frying pans and Dutch ovens and galvanized buckets of all sizes. In some places, I’ve found coveralls big enough to fit three regular people, denim shirts that will wear forever and straw hats, the kind that have a plastic shaded green part in the front brim.

Most of the establishments have a central gathering area for the good old boys to kick back and wrangle the day’s news, for better or worse. In these places, one thing that you will not find is the lack of an opinion.

At Slim’s country store, the focus of the patrons is the huge pot-bellied stove that’s centrally located. A mismatched collection of chairs, some slat-backed and some rockers, surround the old cast iron contraption. It’s a great place to hold forth. When the weather is warm, the boys will move to the wrap-around porch with its rockers, gliders and swings. Sometimes it seems as if being outdoors even improves the conversation, or makes it lighter anyway.

You will notice that I keep referring to the patrons of these establishments as boys. Now ladies are allowed, of course, and sure enough they come to buy things, but they let their husbands, grandfathers and sons do most of the loitering. My grandfather had a country store on a busy corner of the farm in South Carolina. Many times, my grandmother would send me to the establishment to fetch him. She would direct me with, “Tell your granddaddy that supper’s ready and he needs to get home before it gets cold.”

Granddad’s store was built for convenience more than profit. It was a place to pick up a loaf of bread or quart of milk. Grandmother even sold eggs from her free-range chickens. But folks really enjoyed the gathering and camaraderie of the neighborhood. It was a place to disseminate information, good and bad. With my grandfather, it was also a place where he could help neighbors down on their luck. Years after the old store closed and he had passed away, my uncle showed me a store ledger listing items charged and canceled because people couldn’t afford to pay. The business was literally a life-saver during the Depression.

Country stores come in all sizes and locations. There’s one in a small town I visited not long ago that’s a hardware store. It was Friday, close to lunchtime, and I stopped to get directions to a restaurant. When I walked in, I noticed five or six gentlemen in a corner sitting around in a semicircle. Their conversation stopped when I entered the store and everyone checked out the newcomer. The place was huge with high ceilings and many intriguing goods that lined the numerous shelves. I made a mental note to come back when I had more time. To me, it was the best of all worlds, a country hardware store.

The success of the small enterprises out in the country has spilled over to the big boys. Ace Hardware has just opened a new mega-store in Pinehurst. It resembles country hardware stores about as much as Wal-Mart does the A&P where I worked when I was in high school.

Burney Hardware has evolved over the years to the amalgamated personality it is today. It was initially located in downtown Aberdeen in a big two-story building, and it had just about everything a small town would need in the way of hardware. The folks there even sold me shotgun shells for a nickel apiece. On weekends, after I finished my job washing cars at O’Neal’s Esso service station and I was fairly affluent with the day’s salary of $4, they would cut me a deal: five #8s, 12-gauge for twenty cents. Needless to say, my ratio of ammunition spent to game in the bag was a lot better in those days. Even in these so-called lucrative times, I still have a problem keeping myself from running through a whole box of shells at the skeet range. You can’t eat just one of those clay targets.

Burney moved from its original location and is now situated on a busy highway right at the edge of town. It still has the ambience of the past, just much bigger, and you can find galvanized buckets in several sizes.

The big boys in the hardware business are doing well. I love to browse through their acres of merchandise. I even bought my latest surf-fishing cart at the Ace Hardware when we were at Pawleys Island, South Carolina. I use it all the time at the beach. It’s great, of course, for fishing, but also for hauling chairs, coolers and beach umbrellas to the strand.

There is a need for both the small traditional country stores — in many cases a living history of the neighborhoods they serve — and the new businesses that have expanded in size and merchandise. I will continue to enjoy both. But there is something about a cold winter afternoon at Slim’s Place after a morning in a duck blind, kicked back in front of the old pot-bellied stove that’s glowing red with a fresh load of coal, savoring a hot mug of coffee sweetened with a little of Ritter’s apple brandy. The big stores are gonna have to go a ways to compete with that.  PS

Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman, PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist and a pot-bellied stove authority.

Ruth Pauley Turns Thirty

The Ruth Pauley Lecture Series will celebrate thirty years of its remarkable existence this upcoming season. Having served on the board in various capacities for twenty-seven of its thirty years, I am proud to look back at its history and success.

Although I did not personally know Ruth Pauley, I did know and serve on the board with some of her friends, Virginia Leiss, Eunice Minton, Mary Dezarn, Katharine McLeod, Annette Galbreith and Jane McPhaul. All of them were enlightened community leaders who cared deeply about important issues confronting our society. It was very fitting they would choose to start a lecture series named for their good friend, and that it would be free and open to the public.

The sponsors are four local organizations: Sandhills Community College, American Association of University Women, League of Women Voters, and Moore County Schools. They are the glue that holds RPLS together. Each offers some financial support, but they contribute greatly by serving on the board and sponsoring the receptions after each lecture, where the audience gets to meet the speakers, converse with them and enjoy refreshments.

There are also ten representatives from the community on the board. We are lucky to have access to so many persons with a wide range of expertise, experience and personal connections.

The series is committed to presenting lectures by highly informed speakers in order to help deepen our understanding of important and relevant issues facing humanity. Some of my favorites have been Dr. John Hope Franklin, Susan Eisenhower, Jane Goodall, Arun Gandhi, Alan Simpson, Robert Edsel, Ernest Green and Morris Dees. For a list of all the speakers and topics, visit our website, www.ruthpauley.org, and click on the entire list of speakers. I think it is amazing.

In the beginning we often did not have the speakers of the series decided very far in advance. I remember the year we had Maya Angelou. We had no prospects until fall, when Jack McPhaul and Dr. G. McLeod Bryan invited me to lunch and inquired if I thought the board would like to have her speak. Wow!

In this age of technology and instant information, I still love to be in the presence of a live speaker and converse personally with him or her. RPLS offers these opportunities to our community because it really is a “community” project. Thanks to our organizations, individuals and businesses for our success. As the African proverb says, “It takes a whole village to raise a child.” I think our lecture series has succeeded because of such support, and I hope it continues at least another thirty years.

Please join us. The 2016-2017 season is our most ambitious yet, with six lectures scheduled in celebration of our thirtieth anniversary.

All lectures will be held at 7:30 p.m. in Owens Auditorium at Sandhills Community College. PS   — Peggy Olney

September 27, 2016. Len Elmore, “Courtside View: Saving College Sports”

October 11, 2016. Mark Shields, “The Challenge of Governing in a Polarized World”

November 3, 2016. Grace-Marie Turner and Richard Kirsch, “Experts Debate: Obamacare and the Future of Our Health Care”

February 9, 2017. Susan Southard, “Nagasaki and Beyond: The Ethics of Collateral Damage”

March 9, 2017. Abdullah Antepli, “New Frontiers in Civil Rights: A Muslim View”

April 20, 2017. Joe Romm, “Almost Everything You Know about Climate Change Is Outdated”  PS

Simply De-Vine

Watermelon makes cool, refreshing memories

By Jan Leitschuh

August boasts an abundance of produce, but it’s also a time of change. The blasting heat usually causes a decline in some produce while bringing others forward. Early August offers up outstanding freestone peaches, cantaloupe, sweet bell peppers, honeydew melons, heirloom tomatoes, the very last of summer’s blueberries, and watermelon in the markets and local gardens, before easing into okra, eggplant, cherry tomatoes, field peas, muscadines and more peaches late in the month.

This means it’s often your last chance to grab a really fine, peak-season summer watermelon. If you love watermelon but have been avoiding the hefty fruit because “it’s just too much,” and you lack refrigerator space, then this word salad is for you.

The South is known for its really fine melons, and Sandhills melons are the apex. The light sandy soil lets vine-producing nitrogen slip on through, while retaining more of the minerals that encourage sweet fruits. The result, say some of our local farmers, is that produce buyers from other states seek them out. Watermelon is the most-consumed melon in the United States.

Memories have been made around the massive red fruits. Before air-conditioning — that culture-changing innovation that swept folks off their porches and into the interior of their houses — an iced melon was a genuine refreshment, and a worthy excuse for social lollygagging. Perhaps this is a practice worthy of reinvention?

Watermelons are, in essence, a social fruit. They come in big, unwieldy packages and need refrigeration after cutting. To be fully eaten, they need to be shared.

My husband, a Charlotte native, recalls his Uncle Sam bringing over a chilled watermelon on sunny summer Sundays. Chances were, he grew it in his own large truck garden. Three generations of Millers would gather in the backyard as Sam split the melon into juicy, seedy slices. A saltshaker appeared on the old yard table.

The grownups would sit around under the shade tree, telling family stories, rocking on those old 1950s metal chairs with the tubular loops that glided back and forth. Grandma Miller would air herself with an old church bulletin, while the young’uns would run around spitting black seeds at each other. The occasional bee would buzz, sipping at the rinds the kids chucked into the neighboring field.

Later, these same children would grow up and gather with their peers, injecting alcoholic adulterants like rum or vodka into their melons.

In an era even earlier, say, Grandma Miller’s younger days, food was unpredictable enough that nothing was wasted. Even the watermelon rinds were preserved for future use, converted into food treats such as watermelon rind candy, pickled watermelon rind, watermelon rind chutney and more. My mom, a Wisconsin gal who loved the South, made them to be consumed with pork in the fall or put on a little crystal dish at Thanksgiving. I’ve only heard of one millennial who has ever tried this, and she learned from a grandmother of the South.

Change is constant, and things are different. Today, the old recipes live on, but their electronic info is stashed on the internet rather than inside a granny-woman’s head. We live less gregarious lives, tucked in our air-conditioned houses on hot days. Farmers grow smaller “icebox” sized melons, easier to consume. Grocery stores offer servings, useful pre-wrapped watermelon slices, or even pre-chunked into handy plastic containers.

Chefs do clever things with melon, carving them up, or making culinary creations that go well beyond simple slicing, salting and eating. A quick search of online recipes reveals, in the first score of offerings, instructions for making: watermelon ice pops (for the kids) and sorbets or sherbets (for all); watermelon gazpacho; watermelon cake; watermelon jellies; watermelon salsa; watermelon agua fresca; watermelon and strawberry lemonade; minted watermelon and cucumber salad — which seemed weird at first, but upon reflection actually makes sense, as the ingredients are juicy, cool and refreshing; and tomato, watermelon and feta skewers.

Something sweet and light has to be a nutritional lightweight, right? I was surprised to learn that watermelon has more lycopene than tomatoes. Lycopene is a powerful antioxidant, and it also gives watermelon its pink-red color. It’s a splendid source of vitamin C, which strengthens immunity, heals wounds, prevents cell damage and promotes healthy teeth and gums. It also provides vitamin B6, which helps brain function and to convert protein to energy.

Watermelons come in a wide array of sizes with flesh that can be red, pink, yellow or orange. The popular “seedless” varieties contain a few white seeds that are small, soft and edible. By weight, watermelons are 92 percent water — no wonder they’re so hydrating and refreshing!

Tap a ripe melon and you’ll hear a hollow thump. The rind should be smooth, round and unblemished, with a yellow spot on one side where the melon sat on the ground, ripening in the sun. Once cut, store melons in the fridge. Cover slices with plastic, or deconstruct into chunks and cover.

If you need to consume watermelon quickly to free up fridge space, consider using it as a base for healthy, hydrating smoothies, chilled fruit soups or summer drinks. You can freeze leftover drinks for a sort of sorbet treat, or a watermelon ice.

Icy Watermelon Cooler

8 cups (1/2-inch) watermelon cubes

1/3 cup water

1 (6-oz.) can frozen limeade concentrate

(Adult option: rum or vodka)

Preparation

Place watermelon cubes in a single layer in an extra-large zip-top plastic freezer bag and freeze eight hours. Remove and let stand at room temperature fifteen minutes.

Process half each of watermelon, water and limeade concentrate in a blender until smooth; pour mixture into a pitcher. Repeat procedure with remaining half of ingredients; stir into pitcher, and serve immediately.

Watermelon Rind Preserves

6 cups watermelon rind, diced

4 1/2 cups sugar

1 lemon, sliced thinly, then seeded

1 tsp. allspice (optional)

Preparation

Peel green skin off the watermelon, but leave a little of the red pulp on rind. Cut into one-inch slices, then slice into one-inch cubes. Place rind in a large pot and cover with the sugar until the fruit doesn’t show. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate overnight.

Place pot on stove and add lemon slices and allspice, if desired. Boil whole mixture until rind is clear, about two hours.

Pack into clean, hot jars. Wipe rims and screw on lids. Process ten minutes in boiling water deep enough to cover lids by at least one inch. Serve the preserves on buttered toast, if desired.

NOTE: After cutting watermelon, save the rind in the refrigerator until you are ready to prepare the preserves.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative.

August Books

By Kimberly Daniels Taws

The Perfect Horse: The Daring U.S. Mission to Rescue the Princess Stallions Kidnapped by the Nazis, by Elizabeth Letts

The New York Times best-selling author of The Eighty-Dollar Champion returns with a brilliantly written story about Hitler’s effort to build an equine master race with the finest horses in Europe gathered in one place. As the end neared, these beautiful animals were within days of being slaughtered when a controversial covert mission was planned to rescue the horses and smuggle them to safety.

The Fall of Heaven: The Pahlavis and the Final Days of Imperial Iran, by Andrew Scott Cooper

This gripping account of the rise and fall of Iran’s Pahlavi dynasty was researched and written with full cooperation from Empress Farah, Iranian revolutionaries and United States officials from the Carter administration. Starting with Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi’s childhood, his courtship and marriage to the powerful Farah Diba, the plan to launch Iran as one of the five great Western powers, to life in the embassy during the Iranian Revolution, this book details the final days of one of the world’s most legendary ruling families and sets the stage for the current state of the Middle East.

How to Read Water: Clues and Patterns from Puddles to the Sea, by Tristan Gooley

From the author of The Lost Art of Reading Nature’s Signs comes a guide to reading the hidden world of water — bodies both great and small — with skills, tips and useful observations.

War Porn, by Roy Scranton

This masterpiece of a novel takes its title from the term used to describe the videos and images of graphic violence brought back from combat zones and viewed voyeuristically. Experiencing war through the lives of a woman in Utah, a man serving in occupied Baghdad and an Iraqi math professor, the novel merges home and hell, moving back and forth to reveal the humanity that connects us all.

The Nix, A Novel, by Nathan Hill

This family epic about a mother and son finding their way back to each other in both desperate and comic ways reflects the cultural tensions of the past five decades. The Nix is a humorous and heartbreaking work with dead-on descriptions and craftsmanship that draws comparisons to early John Irving.

A Great Reckoning, (A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel), by Louise Penny

The intricate old map found stuffed into the walls of the bistro in Three Pines seems like a curiosity at first, but when the map is given to Inspector Armand Gamache, he shatters the secrets of an old friend and an even older adversary. Louise Penny can craft a riveting and fun detective story like no one else and will be in Pinehurst on September 5 to talk about the book. Tickets are available at The Country Bookshop.

Cooking for Picasso: A Novel, by Camille Aubray

This book is true candy, a sweet treat that includes modern family drama, love, cooking and Picasso in the south of France. A young girl and her aunt head to a cooking class in the south of France and solve the mystery of a grandmother who was there years before.

To the Bright Edge of the World, by Eowyn Ivey

The author of The Snow Child, a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, returns with a transporting tale of adventure, love and survival in the winter of 1885. Colonel Forrester, a decorated war hero, leads a small group of men on an expedition to explore the untamed Alaska Territory, leaving his newly pregnant wife on her own at the Vancouver Barracks. Forrester’s terrifying encounters and the deep information about the natural world from the native tribes that blurs human and animal, living and dead, are all recorded in a journal for his wife, who battles a winter that batters her courage.

The Book That Matters Most, by Ann Hood

At the end of a twenty-five year marriage, Ava is desperate for companionship and joins a book group where each member presents the book that matters most to them. Ava rediscovers a mysterious book from her childhood that helped her through the trauma of the sudden death of her mother and sister. Ava’s story alternates with her adult daughter, Maggie, who lives in Paris and is falling into a destructive relationship with an older man. Ava’s quest to find the book’s author unravels her past and offers her and Maggie a chance to remake their lives. 

CHILDREN’S BOOKS

By Angie Tally

Finding Wild, by Megan Wagner Lloyd. This charmingly illustrated book conveys a beautiful message about the many forms nature can take. Not only is it a great gift title, but Finding Wild can also serve as inspiration for home or classroom discussions: “Where do you find Wild?” Ages 3-6.

The Girl Who Drank the Moon, by Kelly Barnhill. A misunderstood witch, a poetry-spouting swamp monster, a tiny dragon with a simply enormous heart, a girl fed from moonlight, and a town filled with tragic sadness all come together in this brilliant new novel from the author of Witch’s Boy. Fans of Maile Meloy, Alice Hoffman and Shannon Hale will devour this sad, funny, charming, clever stand-alone fantasy adventure. Ages 10-14.

What Elephants Know, by Eric Dinerstein. In the king’s elephant stable on the Nepalese borderlands, it is said elephants choose their people, and Devi Kali has chosen Nandu, a foundling and now adopted son of the head of the stables. But when the stables’ very existence is threatened, it seems Nandu must be willing to give up what he holds most dear to ensure its survival, the elephants’ well-being and the livelihood of his people. Brilliantly written and a literary masterpiece for young readers. Ages 9-12.  PS