Living with wolves

Late December and January have been a very busy time for me, but I have had the chance to interview some amazing people, the first of who were Jim and Jamie Dutcher.

This couple lives in Idaho (the first people I've ever spoken with who live in Idaho!) and for six years, they lived in a yurt observing a pack of wolves as documentary filmmakers. Six years. Six years with no running water or electricity in bitter cold. I was intrigued. When assigned this profile article, I must admit that I was prepared to speak with people who were a little reserved, a little like the wolves they had observed for so long, and perhaps, a little condescending to a person like me who loves city sidewalks and hates sleeping in a tent, even for one night.

But instead, Jim and Jamie were a wonderful interview. They were warm, conversational, and kindly educational about their experience, which they viewed with a healthy dose of humor. But through it all, their love of these animals and their sincere belief in their essential existence in our ecosystem shone through. I thoroughly enjoyed speaking with them and the time flew.

If you are around Charleston, SC Valentine's weekend, make a point to see the Dutcher's presentation of film and lecture about the Sawtooth Pack as part of the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition. If theirs is not a love story, I don't know what is.

Music to My Ears

Please understand this juxtaposition: a busy Kohl's, filled with people searching for bonus buys, half-opened packages of boxer shorts strewn about the shelves where they once neatly sat stacked, the murmurings of two women deciding whether "She" would like a purse, a toddler's screech at not being able to touch something, and meanwhile, a Tony Bennett Christmas song brokenly looping on the intercom with its only interruptions the called codes to team members to "report to registers" and "scan sector C;" my little desk facing the wall in its spare bedroom, the light from the computer the only late-afternoon glow on a gloomy day, magazines stacked next to my right foot, and "Me and Mrs. Jones", "Cuban Blues" then Poncho Sanchez grooving his hit "Watermelon Man."

iTunes have been a great gift to my little desk, and as I'm nearing the end of my gift cards, I'm hoping for a couple more in my stocking this year. The genius button has also been a boom, and my "Writing Music" playlist is the better for it. Now my little desk has a soundtrack all its own, far from the maddening crowd.

The Cow Goes Moo

You never know where the next assignment will take me. My latest adventure took me to rural South Carolina last week to visit a farm definitely off the beat and path (country people tell me this is usually where the farms are). It was a rainy morning as I drove down South 85 and exited somewhere close to Clemson and then promptly got lost thanks to Google Maps. However, some quick phone calls to the farmer, L.D. Peeler, and I soon passed over the bridge he mentioned and passed the sheep that were so cute munching on their morning meal, and turned into the driveway of Milky Way Farms.

I was here to learn about the Peeler's dairy operation, specifically since they are one of the up and coming producers of raw milk. They call it "the way nature intended," and yes, that means unpasteurized. In case you think this is for daredevils, please understand a movement is afoot. Milk Way's raw milk sales have doubled since January of 2008, and websites such as RawMilk.org are getting the word out.

But I was here to see the milking, and before I knew it, 12 Jersey cows were ushered in and large suctions applied to their udders. The whole thing was very scientific, with a sanitizer before, lots of clean stainless steel pipes and a generally efficient operation. They need to be, milking 550 gal/day!

But it was the cows that were the main attraction.

These big girls are a smaller cow breed, but you still can't ignore the size. They spend most of their lives out in the pasture, but when it's time to milk, they know, and they just start lining up outside the barn. Since the milking floor is below the stalls for the cows, I was at eye level with one girl with a dripping nose just sniffing away to check me out. She didn't want petting, though, shying away, and frankly, I didn't want to push the issue.

With a cooler full of milk, I navigated myself once again across the state line and back to city life. I don't think I'll be getting cows anytime soon, but maybe I convince my dogs that they need a goat to play with! Anyone for feta cheese?

I celebrate my Hometown

Jack Bacot and his great team at G Magazine finally gave me a chance I've been wanting for a long time -- the chance to write a travel article about Charlotte. Check it out in this month's G, accompanied by Brie Williams' excellent photography. 

It was wonderful to visit as a tourist rather than only scooting along 485 between Harrisburg and Monroe to visit the family. I got to wander aimlessly in stores, eat a wonderful fish taco and chat with gallery owners, all in the name of work! 

One of my favorite finds was Cafe Monte in Phillips Place across from Southpark. It has charming, charming decor and a great menu, especially the duck confit pizza (some of you know how much I love duck, especially those that might have been at a certain food photo shoot over the summer).  A former gallery space, it feels artsy, but the service is very warm and inviting. I will be back, Monte! 

Beautiful Saturday in Highlands

Driving in the mountains was a treat this past weekend. Now I understand they are covered in a dusting of snow, but last Saturday when I arrived in Highlands, the sky was clear blue, and the leaves, although past their prime and starting to fall in droves, still made a great contrast. 

Highlands was packed for the "leaf-lookers" Saturday, and I had to park three blocks away from the bookstore for my signing. (In Highlands, that's basically at the edge of town. :)) Still, Cyrano's, one of my favorite bookstores, was just as inviting as always. A steady stream of people entered the store the entire time I was there for my signing, asking for reading advice since Cyrano's is known for choosing the best titles to fill its small space. A good many stopped by my table and chatted, thanks to coverage about my signing in The Highlander, and some related a few of the best ghost stories I'll hear all year. 

But my stay was short, just a couple of hours. After a chicken salad sandwich (slightly sweet and delicious) at the Sports Page deli down the street, it was back "off the hill" as Highlanders say, to my Piedmont North Carolina home. And this evening, I'm off to Charlotte for a few more signings ... and I hope a few more ghost stories. 

Mountain spooks

I'm off to the Highlands/Cashiers area this coming weekend for some book signings, and I am glad to once again be able to see the fall colors so beautiful on winding Highway 64. I'll get to pass one of my favorite waterfalls too -- a little grotto fall just off the highway between Cashiers and Highlands. It's shaded by rhododendron, so it's easy to miss, but it is especially beautiful in the deep summer when covered in moss.

But this time of year, it's all about ghosts, not waterfalls, and the mountains have their share of stories. One of my favorites that I got to research for Haunted Hills surrounds the High Hampton Inn in Cashiers, a lovely historic structure with beautiful rolling scenery. The tale is far from beautiful:

Louisa Heaton was by all accounts an eccentric Southern lady, and when her husband wanted to sell some of the land connected to High Hampton, she became distraught. She said, "If you sell my family's land, I'll commit suicide." Well, being the "man of the house," he decided to sell anyway, only to come home to find her lifeless body swinging from a barn rafter a while a white-face barn owl screeched above. The story goes he was so overcome at the funeral he tried to commit suicide (unsuccessfully) over her open grave by slashing both sides of his neck with a hunting knife.

This sordid account is still connected with the Inn, for many people over the years have reported seeing a white owl on the property. Ahh, what a great cheery bedtime story. And yes, I do usually sleep well at night, despite my ghoulish research!

A first from my little desk

Here's the first published article since I've moved to my little desk. Check it out online here at WNC Magazine.

I'm not sure how I got the byline for a feature written by multiple writers, but I'll take it! Make sure and check out the great photography in the photo gallery as well. The editorial teams of Gulfstream Communications always put together a quality product.