I’m delighted to serve as an associate editor for the 2025-2026 fellowship year. We have an incredible group of poets who have joined the program! The current issue announces the list of poets and planned activities. The first monthly issue featuring a poet will drop later this month.

Adding to his instructions, I would say it’s best to park at the top of the dam, and walk across. This is a slightly longer route but offers more dramatic views of Jordan Lake, the spillway, and the continuing Haw River. Once across the dam, you follow the gravel drive down the curve of the hill, bear right to the spillway, and then left along the river to the trees. Find a spot to push through the brush and go into the forest. You'll be at the top of a slope. This leads down through old oaks and hickories, crisscrossed by stream beds and spider webs. It’s perhaps a hundred yards or so to the longleaf pines.

On that first visit, however, John and I drove across the dam, down the gravel drive, and then left away from the river. This leads to the far end of the longleaf stand, where the pines are relatively sparse and scattered among the invasive Lespedeza cuneata that we tromped through. This plant was the focus of John’s first restoration project in the dam’s overflow spillway, lasting from 2006-2009, an effort to eradicate the invasive weed and replace it with natives such as panicgrass, little bluestem, partridge pea, and more. He then planned and led the longleaf restoration project from 2013-2015. This was a project to reforest 70 acres with longleaf pines. It began with the harvest of existing loblolly pines, which provided revenues of $160,000 to fund the reforestation. The overall project succeeded in planting 55,000 longleaf pines on 70 acres. With an 80% survival rate after the first year, the trees are still going strong today. What an amazing project, thank you John!

Today, I’m following John’s instructions to hike in from the river. It’s a pleasant walk along the spillway, awash with the cries of hunting birds and the roar of the dam. Passing into the hardwood stand, it is suddenly quiet. I cross to the pines. Finding a longleaf always surprises me — until you actually have it in front of you, it's tempting to mistake a loblolly as your goal. However, the longleaf needles are much longer (up to 20 inches), glossy dark green, and mostly appear as round poofs at the end of elegantly arced branches. The bark is flaky and prickly, and the branches are covered in sharp little scales. The cones are large, not prickly, and shaped with big, open lobes. However, you won't find cones yet at Jordan dam, the pines are too young.

The largest tree I found was about 10 inches across at the base, and perhaps 40-50 feet tall. The trees are growing in moderate brush, including ragweed, dog fennel, shining sumac, honeysuckle. There are also little bunches of tree of heaven and sweet gum trying to establish - it's striking how different the ground is beneath these, gray with dead leaves, compared to the soft brown pine needles that cover most of the forest floor. According to John, they will begin regular burns this year, which over time will eliminate many of these competing plants. Indeed, fire is a natural part of the longleaf pine lifecycle, as it doesn't injure the longleaf but does kill competitor plants. Eventually, the stand will be thinned out, and native, fire-tolerant plants will take over the under story.

These longleaf pines are just 10 years old and may live 200 years or more. In the coming decades, they will produce cones and begin a natural regeneration cycle. A classic longleaf pine ecosystem will take shape, in which the trees tower above a rich and open understory, with a tall canopy allowing airflow and ample sunlight. Species that were diminished or even lost (locally) will return, such as gopher tortoise, red-cockaded woodpecker, and up-land game birds. Centuries will pass. The longleaf will become, again, ancient.

The Nolans are Johnny, Katie, Francie, and Neeley. The story centers on Francie, who closely observes her world and her family. It is beautifully told through the events of her life, the family and neighborhood, and the inner lives of all involved. For example, the book opens with Francie and Neeley gathering junk to sell. Francie describes the bits of junk as “rags, paper, metal, rubber, and … tin foil from cigarette packages or chewing gum wrappers,” as well as the crowd of ragamuffin children and the junk dealer’s rough pinching hands, which she tolerates in order to earn an extra penny (the “pinching penny”). We read of her shame from picking junk and accepting the taunts of other children and the junk dealer’s pinches, and her happiness from earning a few pennies to split between candy and contributing to the family.

Francie loves reading. Each night, at her mother’s insistence, the family reads together from the Bible or Shakespeare. She makes frequent visits to the library, where the librarian attempts to thwart her interests by offering the same two books again and again (”proper for a young girl”), but Francie only pretends to read the books while actually reading others. When she does take a book home, she likes to read on the fire escape, surrounded by a tree of heaven. This is one of the earliest scenes in the book, and several times throughout the story she perches on the fire escape to read or simply observe the neighborhood. She likes to look into neighboring apartments and watch young women getting ready to go out for the evening. She wonders at their uncertain lives from her shaded little perch. It’s a place of privacy and safety for her.

Unfortunately, the family’s daily lives are mostly overtaken by instability and tragedy. Much of this revolves around her father, Johnny. He’s a lover, a dreamer, and a singer by trade, while her mother, Katie, is the practical one who keeps the family afloat. Francie has a close relationship with Johnny and he is very encouraging towards her, and she loves to hear his singing on his way home at night. However, he is not reliable. She never knows what time he’ll be home; worse, sometimes he doesn’t come or is drunk, which she dreads. He’s often out of work, which adds to his dreamer’s depression, and he eventually drinks himself to death after being kicked out of the union. This hurt Francie, deeply. As she confessed to her brother, Neeley, she even lost her faith in God, because she was angry that God would let Johnny die instead of helping him.

Like the tree, the family is resilient. This is mostly thanks to Katie’s unbreakable spirit. Where Johnny weaved soaring, inspiring dreams of adventure, money, and comfort, Katie sets her sights and her symbols in the here and now. At her own mother’s encouragement, she nails a tin can to the floor of the closet every time they move, as a way to save pennies to buy land one day. Although the “tin can bank” continually fails due to the exigencies of daily life, it is a practical symbol, emblematic of Katie’s approach. She never gives up. After Johnny’s death, she tells her children, “I am your mother and your father now.” When it’s apparent Johnny can’t provide for the family, she takes on more jobs. And in the children’s earliest days, when Francie was a sickly infant, neighbors tell her that it would be better to let Francie die than keep struggling, to which Katie responds by holding Francie tightly to her, and pointing to a tree of heaven:

Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of the grating… it’s strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way.

Katie is right. The tree is strong, so are her children. By the story’s end, Neeley is becoming a singer like his father, with a more steady approach to work and life, and Francie is getting ready to depart for Michigan, achieving her dream of going to college. In the final scene, she sits at the bathroom mirror, washing her hair before going out. She hears Neeley coming into the apartment, whistling the song Darktown Strutter’s Ball (near and dear to my heart; my grandmother loves the song). Francie thinks of her younger self on the outside of such a scene, and looks out the window to notice a little girl, reading and eating candy, on a nearby fire escape. She notices as well a tree of heaven sprouting from a stump. It had been cut down as a nuisance, and yet, it lived.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is a beautiful and richly-realized story. To read this book is to live it; each page is given in the spirit of this advice from Francie’s grandmother, Mary Rommely: “Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.”

I’ll do my best. At home, we have tree of heaven. It’s invasive here in North Carolina, and I’m sure it is in Brooklyn, too. Yet it means something different when it’s the only green thing you have. I wish I could give Francie scented sweetbay magnolia, the profuse glory of a black-eyed susan, or lush patch of tomatos. I can’t do that, but in a way, that’s what she has given me.

The storytelling was top notch. Eddie shared from his five years of research (he later told me that his editor originally gave him a two-year deadline - ha!). Riley, with his personal and musical connection, offered a treasure trove of anecdotes as well. Both men also spoke admiringly of Doc Watson’s own legendary and lengthy storytelling prowess.

One of my favorites was Riley’s description and demonstration of how Doc learned his famous song “Deep River Blues.” Originally by the Delmore Brothers and titled “Big River Blues,” Doc apparently felt the original title could be more interesting, and renamed it. As Riley put it, Doc spent years deciphering how to play the song, which was challenging because the Delmore Brothers’ version featured multiple parts on separate instruments. He eventually adapted it to his own unique fingerpicking style, playing all the parts himself. Riley vividly demonstrated this, first thumping out the discordant bass beat, then adding a few higher notes to punctuate the rhythm, and finally layering on the well-known melody and singing. While I didn’t get the demonstration on video, here’s Riley on one of the later verses.

Doc Watson was not only a musical genius; despite being blind from age 1, he was a skilled carpenter and electrician, even taking care of roof repairs by himself. When he started playing music as a way of making a living, he would travel by bus to distant places like New York City. His son, Merle, later joined him on guitar. Both Eddie and Riley agreed that Merle was an astounding guitarist—a flatpicker like his father as well as a slide guitar player—though music wasn't his destined path in life. He died in a tragic midnight farm accident after heavy drinking. Today, the famous MerleFest folk festival is named in his honor.

RosaLee, Doc’s wife of 65 years, was also a musical talent. She performed with Doc, and they co-wrote the well-known song “Your Lone Journey.” She even taught Merle his first chords on guitar. Riley painted a picture of their lives together, sharing little details like his long phone conversations with Doc and RosaLee, just friends catching up. He also spoke movingly about the impact of Merle’s death on her health. When she moved into a care home in Boone, NC, Riley and Doc would visit, playing music for her.

After visiting RosaLee, Riley shared his most vivid memory of Doc, the two men walked melancholy through the quiet downtown of Boone. They came to the bronze statue of Doc Watson installed by the town. As Riley put it, the statue was created only after many years of asking Doc’s permission, but he was a humble man and had for many years rejected the idea. This day, the men sat, and Doc became playful, grinning threw his arm around himself-the-statue. Before long, townsfolk stopped to talk, came out of their businesses, gathering round. Doc spent some hours in a mood of lightness telling stories and greeting friends and fans.

Throughout our own afternoon together, Riley played and discussed many of Doc’s songs. He played “Matty Groves” which I hadn’t heard before, and “Little Sadie,” for which I have a soft spot. He went back and forth between guitar and banjo, the former being more of an homage to Doc, the latter his own specialty. He also made a point of singing “a song where the lady wins,” launching into “Katie Morey,” in which the protaganist tricks an ill-intentioned suitor into a climbing a tree, insults him, then leaves him stranded. Ha!

It was a great afternoon of music and storytelling. If you’re interested in the book, you can find it at various retailers including the UNC Press, where it was published: Doc Watson: A Life in Music.

North of the circle

• Pittsboro Food Mart (Citgo) 🔺🔺 $2.89 😺

West

• Luke’s Corner Convenience and Gas (Citgo) 🟢 $2.95

• Pittsboro Mart (Mobil) 🔺🔺 $3.05

East

• Neal’s Gas and Convenience (Exxon)🔺🔺$2.89 😺

• Eagles Gas Station and Car Wash (Refuel) 🟢 $2.95

• Amoco (BP) 🔺🔺$2.97

South

• Circle K🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺$2.95

Our winners today are Neal’s and Pittsboro Food Mart, at $2.89 per gallon, which are both 🔺🔺$0.10 higher than last time. Compare all of this to averages for

• Pittsboro 🔺🔺$2.95

• North Carolina 🔺🔺 $2.93

• National 🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺$3.22

*Color-coding for increase/decrease shows the number of whole nickels, rounded up. So an 4 cent decrease is 🟢, a 9 cent increase is 🔺🔺

I’ll often poke a stick in the ground to make sure I don’t step on or mow over the nest. And to hopefully keep an eye out for baby turtles. (You know - so I can make turtle shell helmet for extended underwater swimming time when I’m exploring ocean ruins). Sadly, the nests are always dug up by some predator.

This time, I contacted Carolina Wildlife Conservation Center. They sent sensible instructions like no pesticides or herbicides near the nest, keep people and pets away, don’t mow the site, remove anything that might attract predators to the vicinity. And, just what I was looking for, how to build a protective cage for the nest.

Pretty simple - a box about 2ft square, 4 to 6 inches high, protective hardware cloth on top. I used scrap wood and extra hardware cloth that I already had on hand. Learning from the experience of building the duck pen, I installed the hardware cloth with facing boards instead of roofing screws, this will be more secure and easier to maintain or disassemble. When covering the eggs, it’s important to stake it to the ground, so that predators can’t just push it aside. Lastly, you have to cut a few notches, short and wide, so the babies can escape when they hatch.

I understand our turtle momma is an Eastern Painted Turtle, as differentiated from the Midland Painted Turtle by the neatly aligned seams on the shell, whereas the Midland has alternating seams. The nest contained at least 2 eggs that I could see, and they take 70 to 80 days to hatch. When they arrive, the babies will be about the size of a quarter, and ready to crawl, forage, and swim. Presumably they won’t stick around very long.

The likely hatching dates are August 23 - September 2, I will check then!

where the turtle’s eggs were
a weather-softened stick
jammed upright

I lucked across a call for submissions in a recent newsletter from the North Carolina Poetry Society, which described BRILLIG as a hand-crafted, limited-edition literary journal, show-casing poems that are “brilliant and big.” Truly. I submitted several pieces and waited to hear…

On a related note, I attended the recent Haiku Holiday, an annual tradition of the North Carolina Haiku Society. During coffee and pastries, I ended up chatting with a friendly soul from coastal Carolina. We swapped bird watching stories and tips. A short time later, she came speeding back across the room, “wait, you’re Matt Snyder? I’m Deborah, Deborah Doolittle! I accepted your work!”

Deborah is the editor of BRILLIG, and she actually had a proof copy of the magazine to share that day. What a beautiful handmade bookart, and I’m so delighted to have received my copy. The binding format is called “Dragon Scale,” in which the pages are tri-folds, arranged so that each page extends outward a little more than the previous page. The visible portion of each page is a brown-gold leaf pattern, the inner portion is plain white with black text. The cover is also handmade, with stylized images of a multi-color heron and black-and-white honey bees. It is big enough that all the pages fit inside.

I’ll happily share my copy with you, next I see you.

It’s an honor to share space with these wonderful poems and excellent poets. My pieces in the issue include Ghazal for sunrise, everything is music, and 3 haiku, one of which I’ll share here:

the quickening
of treetop ice melt…
sound of sun

I handed out some copies today at the NCHS annual Haiku Holiday meetup (another joy). Our issue numbering scheme created a delightful confusion, as one recipient asked in wonder, “wow, 40 issues or 40 years? well done!”

Each issue is the best ever, in its own way, and this one continues that fine tradition. There is a classic community profile, an exploration of joy, poetry (free verse and Japanese short form, and our first poet laureate), a walk on a beach, a mysterious midnight dragon, grocery store bars, multiple reviews of multiple Last Samurai, and so. much. more. This one is 50% longer than any previous issue. Great congrats and thanks to all our contributors!

Need a copy? Do reach out. The 1330 Bulletin remains a print-only publication and we are happy to add you to our (free) distribution list!

At start of the project, we met as a group to discuss the idea of voice and how to give feedback. Big thanks to poet Anne Burgevin, who led the discussion. The discussion really helped shape the project and guide participants in how they selected and shared work, as well as how they reviewed each other’s work and wrote commentary in response. For example, here’s our ‘instructions to readers’:

Please write commentary reacting to the poet’s voice. You could consider techniques, topics and themes, emotion, sensory experience, the poet’s goals or questions, the poet’s growth over time. Help the poet to see themselves and achieve their goals. Point out what strikes you. Ask questions in your comments. Avoid judgment, preference, editing and rewriting. Seek to understand their intention.

The written commentary often prompted continued discussion. Speaking for myself, I’ve found ongoing joy in continuing to correspond with some of my fellow poets, sharing news, poems, and feedback. The group also met during and after the project, deepening our insights and friendships. The project ended with widespread joy and gratitude, for the fun of deeply reading each other’s work, and for receiving thoughtful perspective from each other.

At conclusion of the project, we decided as a group to share our experience on the website. Big thanks to NCHS poet Dave Russo for setting up the website. Read more here: https://nc-haiku.org/my-fellow-poets-project/!

pocketful of sand
shouts of joy mingle
in the surf

And that was it, for me.

This is a haibun, a Japanese short form combining a title, prose, and poetry. I wrote it for the reasons obvious above. It wasn’t for publishing, but I learned that Murder by Death is giving their farewell tour this year! So, had to share. Go to a show if you get the chance, they are great!

It's noisy next to the highway. Between cars, the crunch of gravel. From the lot, a steep path leads down and away, to the river. The road noise follows as you go.

After the winter storm, it is wet and muddy. The path is slippery. I turn left at the river path, heading southeast. I don't know how far the path goes, but I guess the Haw itself has about 4 miles to reach Jordan Lake. Soon along the path I come to Sugar Creek.

A mix of angular and squared off boulders provide easy passage. I stop in the middle to listen.

No more cars! The creek bubbles.

Most of the hike winds along the river, sometimes at the water's edge, sometimes curving into the forest. It's a mix of conifer and deciduous. I recognize white oak and sycamore. And loblolly. I swish off-path seeking more interesting pines, and instead found a thick patch of Christmas fern in the hollow of a big fallen tree.

About a mile in, just past a rapids, there is a sandy beach at a calm and sheltered place. A good swimming spot for summer months, not too far to carry some refreshments. Today it's sunny and still, so the beach is a warm resting spot. The river sings deeper than the creek:

The forest changes to all pine, the path curves away from the river. Pausing in the silence, titmice and ruby-crowned kinglets make quiet calls. …very quiet.

I've come as far as the place where the river rejoins itself, after the long island. It's wide and calm. The path goes on, but for now, I will turn back.

double vision
a wake of vultures
across the pond

Since then, we’ve often sat outside with our ducks, one eye on the sky for predators. Usually we just see vultures. Turkey vultures, buzzards, black vultures? Wish I knew…

Black vultures

I recently hiked around B. Everett Jordan Dam and encountered a great number of black vultures.

high voltage
a black vulture shadows
the tower truss

At the time, I didn’t know what kind. Later, I learned about the kinds of vultures, and that they were black vultures at the dam. Black vultures are black/dark, except they have white or light gray wingtips. When they are soaring high above, the white wingtips are a good way to identify them.

In North Carolina’s Piedmont region, we can see black vultures year-round. This is true across most of the southeastern United States. In the Carolina mountains or the rest of the country, they tend to show up only during their breeding season, March - June.

Turkey vultures

pothole puddle
a turkey vulture floats
across a patch of blue

Around here, I haven’t seen a turkey vulture up close. If you did, they are easy to identify, they have red heads and feet, and their feathers are brown and black. From below, they are pretty easy to identify as the wings are light-colored on the underside, except for the leading edge is black. Turkey vultures are common year-round across the United States.

Buzzards and other fun words

“Buzzard” is used to refer to any vulture, it’s not specific. Black vultures are scientifically known as coragyps atratus. Turkey Vultures are as cathartes aura.

A group of vultures is called a kettle in flight, a wake when eating, and a committee when standing around doing nothing. I also read about other collective nouns such as venue or volt.

Bonus! Vulture chicks are cute.

The bridge, it turns out, is rather in the middle of nowhere, 12 miles south/southwest from Pittsboro, about 9 miles north/northwest from Sanford. A small park has been built around it, with parking on either side. The bridge is now in service for pedestrians only.

Walking up to the bridge, it’s quiet. The gravel drive is lined with sycamores, and the bridge entrance is framed by a pair of brick pillars. Beyond, the trusses are painted white, angular against the gray sky. A sapsucker cries, wrens flit in the leafless bushes, and I hear the sound of the river, softly beneath the bridge. In the middle of the span, a handmade bench is chained to the guardrail, and two tea lights, barely used, sit atop the bench.

It’s not well-tended. Near the base of the bridge, a concrete boat ramp slopes steeply into the river. It is thickly covered in mud. Further along, broken pieces of concrete steps lay on the bank, with a bent metal railing nearby on the ground. The bank itself is muddy or sandy, shorn of vegetation. It looks like the river has flooded heavily.

At the top of the bank, a handful of picnic tables overlook the scene. There are a couple of pieces of backyard-style playground equipment. A gazebo sits above it all, on a slight rise set back from the river bank.

The rabbits! Having crossed the bridge, there is a matching pair of brick pillars on the Chatham side, and each pillar is embedded with a decorative carved stone rabbit.

The view of the bridge from the boat ramp.

Chatham Farmers Market

They require an application, with an option to apply for membership or to be a guest vendor. It costs $35 to apply, $65 for membership (optional if attending less than 16 markets per year), and $10 each week at the market. As part of the process, there will be a farm or site visit before being accepted to the market.

There are also rules and regulations (last updated 2021). Of note,

• Regular spaces are allocated based on prior year market participation, with preference given to members.

• Guest vendors are assigned a space each week based on availability, first come first served.

• Arrive at least 20 minutes before open, can’t leave early.

• Egg sales only from birds you own.

• “Organic” as a label must meet the requirements of the National Organic Program.

• Farm and sale records may be requested by the board at any time, this could include sale receipts, birth and mortality records, feed, medical records, and “etc.”

North Carolina Requirements

An excellent resource for this, from which I’m summarizing, is the NC State Extension’s helpful article “Explaining the North Carolina Egg Law for Producers with Small Flocks” (link). The primary regulator in our circumstance would be the North Carolina Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services (NCDA&CS).

• Grading and size/weight: eggs may be sold without grading and size/weight classification if selling less than 30 dozen eggs per week. Such eggs must be labeled “Ungraded Eggs.”

• Cracked/checked eggs: may not be sold (a crack is a break in the shell and membrane, a check is a break in the shell but not the membrane).

• Repackaging: this is allowed when eggs are sold directly producer-to-consumer. Otherwise, repackaging is prohibited; i.e., once the eggs are in their carton, they cannot be moved to a new carton, or have individual eggs swapped out, etc.

• Carton: must display grade, size/weight class; the word “eggs” (in our case, “duck eggs”); count of eggs; name and address of packer.

  • The word “Fresh” means Grade A or AA, and you cannot use other descriptive terms.

  • If the carton is reused, must be clean, unbroken, and free of foul odor; any non-applicable/outdated information has to be blacked out.

• Invoices: must provide written invoice to buyers, to include date of sale, name and address of seller, name of purchaser, quantity sold, grade (or “ungraded”), size/weight class; must keep on file for 30 days.

• Advertising: any advertisement for sale must obviously display the grade and size/weight (can’t put it in fine print).

• Sanitation: maintain facilities “equal to food establishments” (note below), store eggs in proper environments protected from foreign matter, use clean and unbroken packaging, use a sanitary method of cleaning (if needed).

• Temperature: store and transport 45 degrees or less, without freezing.

• Inspection: NCDA&CS can come inspect.

• Stop-sale: can’t sell eggs if ordered to stop by the NCDA&CS.

• Registration: small producers are exempt from registration with NCDA&CS (link).

Assumptions

The comment about sanitation requirements including “equal to food establishments” is unclear. As best I can tell, it’s a general requirement that mostly overlaps with the other requirements in any specifics that I can find.

There is a requirement that the word “Fresh” can only be used to describe Grade A or AA eggs. If we sell eggs, we would be under the 30 dozen eggs/week threshold and would not be required to grade the eggs, so I assume we cannot use the term “Fresh.”

Regarding “invoices,” it’s unclear to me if there are exceptions to this. It might only apply to sales to restaurants, groceries, and at a farmers market. That said, the Chatham Mills Farmers Market requirements to include a note that they may request sales records at any time, so seems like a general good practice.

Volunteer docent Rich met us as we entered, gave us a warm welcome. He showed us the county seal and talked about its symbolism, and explained the long history of the courthouse, burned down 15 years ago, and rebuilt into its current form. He then walked us through the main exhibit, giving an overview as we went. Later we also met another volunteer, Paul.

We learned the county is named for William Pitt, the Earl of Chatham. The town is named for William Pitt the Younger, a known defender of colonial rights in Britain. Numerous other places in the United States are named for both, such as Chatham County in Georgia, Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, and arguably, Pittsboro in Indiana. The latter location was actually founded by a man from Pittsboro, NC, and named in its honor (wiki).

The poet laureate of Chatham County is George Moses Horton. He was born into slavery in ~1797. In his 20s, he sold acrostic, romantic poems to students in Chapel Hill. In 1828, his first published poem, “Liberty and Slavery,” was printed in a Massachusetts newspaper, and he exchanged letters with abolitionists and advocated against slavery. He saved money from his poetry to buy his freedom, but the Horton family that owned him refused the money. He was later freed during the Civil War.

He was named the poet laureate of Chatham County in the 1990s, by the county commissioners. And today, we live across from the middle school that bears his name.

• This is wild to read — was his poetry or advocacy a secret? His most famous poem opens with “Alas! and am I born for this, To wear this slavish chain?” How did he receive or send correspondence? ??? What was the story that led to naming him poet laureate??

The museum has great stories to tell and is a great resource for the community. The historical society has been working for decades to gather and preserve the history of the area. One fascinating project is the Cemetery Survey, ongoing since 1989, the society has worked to document grave sites throughout the county. We learned about this in our White Pines hike last month, when we briefly visited a small unknown graveyard in the nature preserve. Interestingly, at the time our guides said the identities of the persons buried there were unknown. Today at the museum, we looked up the site, and gained a single additional word of knowledge about the grave site — “Slaves.”

• Pittsboro Food Mart (Citgo) - $2.79

West

• Luke’s Corner Convenience and Gas (Citgo) - $2.99

• Pittsboro Mart (Mobil) - $2.99

East

• Neal’s Gas and Convenience - $2.79

• Eagles Gas Station and Car Wash (Refuel) - $2.99

• Amoco (BP) - $2.89

South

• Circle K - $2.73 😺

Our winner today is my local neighborhood Circle K! Clocking in at $2.73 per gallon. Compare all of this to the Pittsboro average of $2.88, NC average $2.84, and national average $3.01.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

…ah… ah… …
a night warbler sings…
…the moon hangs in the pines…

And it got me thinking. What do I know about our pines? The Ravens Rock State Park has a great exhibit on the natural/geologic history of the Piedmont, I remember reading that it used to be all pine, not deciduous. Those came later. Similar story from the NC Art Museum, “Hundreds of years ago, the central Piedmont in North Carolina was covered with meadows rich in biodiversity. Meadows grew in openings between pine savannas maintained by both naturally occurring and human-ignited fires.”

Today, we no longer have endless “pine savannas,” yet we are still the land of the pines. Which ones are in my backyard?

Loblolly (pinus taeda)

Ha. Now that I know a little about pines, it’s funny that I had to Google this. Nowadays, loblolly pines are ubiquitous and by far the most common in our area. So the easiest way to know if you have a loblolly, is just to assume you do.

Apart from that, you can look for thick plated bark with deep grooves between the bark, needles in bunches of three, and cones that fit in your hand and have sharp points (picture below). Don Pelly, on a recent tree identification hike sponsored by Grand Trees of Chatham, suggested we could remember it by its Latin name of all things — pinus taeda’s cone, when you grip it, it’s like a hot potato you can’t grip it long! “Pinus taeda” — “hot potato” — get it? The loblolly cone is spiny (not hot like a baked tater), but it’s an easy way to know.

Here at home, we have a dozen or so loblolly pines. Most of ours are massive, 2-3 feet across at the base. For years I’ve kicked the cones out the way, having learned how prickly they are to pick up and toss.

Shortleaf pine (pinus echinata)

Another one we have at home is the shortleaf pine. It’s very different from loblolly, and much less common, though still relatively easy to find in the area.

Shortleaf pines have many small cones, shorter needles in groups of two, and papery layers of bark that don’t have the deep grooves of loblolly. The bark frequently has little round “resin holes” which helps in identifying, too. You can see this pretty prominently in the photo below.

Longleaf pine (pinus palustris)

This is the grand daddy pine of the Carolinas. We do not have these at home, but I was fortunate to find two of them at the White Pines Nature Preserve. These pines once dominated the eastern United States — according to the Longleaf book, they stretched across 90 million acres, of which perhaps 2 million remain today, and were famous even in Great Britain, known for their strength and durability for homes and ships.

The longleaf is distinctive. The bunches of needles have been described like a Dr. Seuss tree, with remarkable “pom-pom” shapes at the end of each branch. The needles are in bundles of three and can be a foot long, or more. The bark is papery like the shortleaf, with grooves like the loblolly (though not as deep or consistent), and the cones are large — 6-12 inches.

On the forest floor, the cones are the easiest way to know it’s a longleaf. Looking up, the globe-shaped bunches of needles are striking, especially when compared to the loblolly or other pines. In the following photo, the longleaf is the nearer tree in the top-half of the photo, with glossy globes of needles suspended in the air. The loblolly is thicker, has many cones, and shorter needles, lower down in the photo.

White pine (pinus strobus)

Our area is lucky to have the White Pines Nature Preserve, which as the name suggests is home to quite a number of white pines. Like the longleaf, these pines are no longer common, due to logging and the warming Piedmont. They can be found easily at the nature preserve, due to the unique ecology of north slopes and cooler temperatures at the confluence of the Rocky and Deep rivers.

White pines are identifiable by the cones, which are spotted or tinged with white, and the medium-length needles in bunches of five.

Cones are an easy differentiator

Walking through the forest, it is pretty easy to find cones on the ground, and these tell you a lot about which tree you are under. As shown in this photo collage:

More pines

There are so many more pines! In Carolina, we have Virginia pines, theoretically also in our area though not sure where to find them. We also have pitch pines and table mountain pines in the mountains, pond pine and slash pine by the coast, and possibly red pine though I understand it’s more likely found in the northeastern United States.

Out west, there is the classic ponderosa pine, lodge pole pine (also known as “twisted” or “shore” pine), western white pine, and the biggest baddest pines, sugar pines.

In Japan, there are classically black pines and red pines. The former is found at the seacoast and has traditional male associations. The latter is found in the mountains and hills, and has traditional female associations. That’s all based on cursory yet interested reading; more to come.

Not pines

There are many kinds of evergreen trees, all falling into the family Pinaceae (of which pines are 1 genus). A quick list from my notes…

• Spruce - needles all along the branch, sharp, cones point down

• Fir - needles all along the branch, pointed up, cones point up

• Douglas-fir - another evergreen; not a true fir

• Hemlock - shorter softer needles, all along the branch

• Cedar - true cedar is like fir, but native to the Mediterranean and Himalayas

• Juniper - blue seed cones that look like (and we call them) berries; interestingly, eastern red cedar is actually a juniper

• Arborvitae - flat needle leafs, softer; "northern white cedar," "western red cedar,” but not true cedars

• Redwood - coastal giants

• Yew - toxic with red berries