Preparing the perfect Thanksgiving entrée — especially outdoors, in the fickle weather of a North Carolina November — is a delicate process that cannot be rushed. Just ask the Ramblin’ Man.
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Banner Elk: Discovering a Blue Ridge Town
To answer a question that’s confounded him for years, the Ramblin’ Man — a Piedmont-dweller since birth — goes west.
Go With the Ebb & Flow
Something to ponder as the tide rolls in: Nothing on the North Carolina coast stays the same for long. Yet that inconstancy is, in its own way, a source of comfort.
The Perfect Pitch
In the right tent, you can camp just about anywhere. For the Ramblin’ Family, a nylon palace was a home away from home and a shelter through gusty nights in the High Country.
Pigeons, Passing By
Centuries ago, migrating passenger pigeons flew south by the millions, great rivers of feathers streaming through the sky. Those birds are gone now, but their memory is a reminder to look up: Spring still brings a flood of winged wonder.
Cats in the Pines
Once, our longleaf pines produced the materials that helped ships travel around the globe — but the profits came at a price. Now, the forests that rang out with the sounds of industry stand quiet, and the last witnesses to that era are a rare find indeed.
Putting It All Together
It’s the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature is stirring — only Mom and Dad, assembling toys and steeling themselves for those famous last words: “Batteries not included.”
Welcome to Quail Country
Times have changed since scions of the Gilded Age hunted quail in piney woods across the Piedmont. But those who hope to preserve a home for the little birds will always listen for a bobwhite’s whistle.
Ramblin’ Man: Fish Fry for One
For a longtime angler, revisiting the first fish of his youth has become a late-spring ritual: catch a bluegill, then cook and eat it — right on the spot.