Wandering Billy

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

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How I learned to always give credit where credit is contractually obligated

By Billy Ingram

For reasons I’ll never understand, from the mid-1980s until the mid-1990s, I found myself working as an artist for Seiniger Advertising in Beverly Hills, a movie poster design team that became known as “The New York Yankees of Motion Picture Advertising.” During the last century, when movies were enjoying the industry’s most lucrative period, a lean, mean design team of about 30 of us found ourselves creating one-sheets — the movie posters you see in theaters — and trailers for the biggest blockbusters ever.

We cranked out hundreds of posters for movies such as Pretty Woman, Hook, Ghost, and Field of Dreams, and worked on films that became franchises, including James Bond, Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Indiana Jones, Beverly Hills Cop, Star Trek and Rocky. And that’s not even mentioning every Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, Kevin Costner and John Hughes release. They all came out of the Seiniger studio. Here are a few meaningless yet entertaining anecdotes from a time when I was Hollywood swingin’…

The Prince of Tides: Barbra Streisand was/is famous for micromanaging her projects, all the way down to creative control over all advertising and publicity, including movie posters. For a couple of weeks after shooting wrapped, Streisand would send over suggestions for the Prince of Tides poster and I would work them up — usually consisting of a photo for the background, another for the foreground. They would arrive, about half a dozen at a time, promptly at 6 p.m. and she needed to see completed comps by 9 a.m. If at first glance I thought her choices odd, inevitably they turned out to be very attractive and astute. However, there was one particular on-set photo she liked a lot of her and co-star Nick Nolte in bed, Barbra in a nurturing position. Trouble was, she kept wanting to see her head larger, which naturally meant Nolte’s noggin got bigger. Eventually, the context was lost. That became obvious when someone passed by my desk, saw this mockup and remarked, “That looks like Barbra Streisand with her pet head!”

Boomerang: We were toiling away on a typical campaign for a romantic comedy starring Paramount Picture’s biggest star until one afternoon, when we were instructed to stop and switch directions. Seems the star decided he wanted to be the next James Bond. And, as it happened, that franchise was in limbo after License to Kill bombed at the box office. From that point on, every poster design for that Paramount romcom had to make the star look as “007” as possible. Bond being another studio’s property, what could have been an unusual casting choice (to say the least) was ultimately nixed — but, if Ian Fleming’s creation had belonged to Paramount, there’s no doubt the next entry in that franchise would have starred . . . Eddie Murphy as James Bond.

Moonstruck: The image of Cher on the Moonstruck poster (from a location shoot in Central Park by Annie Leibovitz) is one that almost everyone remembers. In fact, it won what is now the Academy Award for Best Movie Poster that year, another home run for the Tony Seiniger shop. That image is actually composed from three different photos — the head, the torso and arms, and the skirt with legs all came from separate frames.

This also-ran for Moonstruck (shown) has some of the same elements as the final poster, but . . . why is Cher up in the night sky lashing out at the logo? What’s even more puzzling is why is the moon moving so dangerously close to the Earth? File this one away for Cher’s sci-fi sequel: Moonstruck the Earth!

Star Trek VI: This particular comp, I had very little — if anything — to do with, but, whenever I drifted into a new project, I would pull the actors’ publicity contracts that we kept on file just in case. While this design by Bob Peak, a highly-acclaimed artist who rendered the illustration for the first Star Trek motion picture one-sheet, is striking and effective, I warned the art director that it would never fly. William Shatner’s contract stipulated that only Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelley and Shatner himself could appear on the movie poster, so this was a nonstarter.

Bugsy: One day, I noticed an older gentleman meandering around our bullpen, observing with interest how we were manipulating images, so I struck up a conversation. He was none other than George Hurrell, the photographic genius who captured indelible portraits of 1930s/1940s Tinsel Town immortals such as Garland, Harlow, Crawford, Bogart, Gable and Garbo. I was fascinated as he explained his technique of touching up those picture-perfect images directly on 8-by-10-inch negatives. This was 1991; he still had his studio, but confessed he felt his work had been forgotten in the business, and was grateful Warren Beatty had requested a photo shoot with him for the Bugsy poster. Hurrell passed away the next year.

With all the different directions and rush-order variations requested over several months, primarily by Warren Beatty, the one-sheet for Bugsy somehow became the most expensive of all time (a record I doubt will ever be broken) — around one million dollars just for the movie poster alone. And yet, as gorgeous as George Hurrell’s stark depiction of Beatty was on the final design that both star and studio agreed on (shown fronted by Annette Bening, photographed by Bruce Weber), Bugsy’s director, Barry Levinson, was so miffed at having been left out of the process, he rejected it and demanded input. As a result, the final poster was merely a generic tango pose of the two stars lensed by a more au currant Hollywood photographer, Herb Ritts. They could have photographed it at Glamour shots in the mall.

Before working at Seiniger Advertising (a company so exclusive the phone number was unlisted), I never gave one thought to how movie posters came into being. I just fell into it. During this almost 10-year period, I actually provided the illustration for The Hunt For Red October poster and generated graphics for award-winning trailers and main titles including The Fugitive and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

Glamorous? Hardly. Almost every night, we had no clue when we might be able to go home; relentless deadlines resulting in 14-, 16-, even 26-hour days were expected. Working under the most stressful conditions one can imagine for long periods of time, we formed familial bonds that extend to this day, friendships and harsh relationships that I look back fondly on — and paydays I wouldn’t mind becoming reacquainted with.

Almanac

ALMANAC

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Almanac October

October speaks through the beaks of 1,000 crows.

Can you feel them gathering? Murders of 20, 40, 60 strong, each bird like a sibyl gone mad.

“The sun is sinking, sinking, sinking,” they shriek, raspy voices harsh and urgent.

You know it’s true. The days are much too dark, too soon. And yet, right now, the sky is a cloudless blue; the maple is thick with yellow leaves; the light has washed everything golden.

Don’t let the raucous birds rip you from the moment: The warmth of sunlight on your face; the scent of wet earth; the swirl of amber leaves somersaulting through endless azure.

The crows kick it up a notch, throw back their ink-black heads, blurt their ghastly premonitions until their babble turns to laughter.

Dark and maniacal, their howling conjures a mighty wind. Do not be frightened by the glossy-winged seers. Let them rally in the shadows while the days are still honeyed. Let them pull you more fully into the luminous now.

Cock your head sideways as the crows do. Can’t you see? It’s all here — the freshness of the season; the bitter whiffs of sweet decay.

Notice that the crunch of dead leaves somehow enlivens you. “Yes, the sun is sinking,” you want to call back. “But . . . the air is alive! The leaves are turning cartwheels!”

A wild laugh rises from deep within you. The light is fading. The crows are cackling. As autumn picks at her own golden thread, even the dead leaves seem to snicker.

Patch v. Orchard

Nothing says wholesome autumn fun like a pumpkin patch. Adorable. But if you’re looking for a pick-your-own adventure with an edge, venture to an apple orchard.

Spend a quiet hour among the trees. Study the gnarled branches. Listen for the thud of ripe fruit knocking against the sleepy earth. Dance with the shadows.

About 75 percent of our state’s apple crop is grown south of Asheville in Henderson County. Should you head west to peep and marvel at the turning leaves, consider stopping by an orchard — or farm stand — for the freshest of the fresh. 

At the very least, snag a gallon of cider to-go.

I remember it as
October days are always
remembered, cloudless,
maple-flavored,
the air gold and
so clean it quivers.

— Leif Enger,
Peace Like a River

Color Crescendo

True leaf peepers will tell you that the best time to hit the Great Smoky Mountains or Blue Ridge Parkway for peak fall colors is the second week of October. Go a week early and be underwhelmed; a week late and you’ll miss it.

Whether or not you take the drive, the color show will surely find you — if not through leaves then through flowers. Kaleidoscopic chrysanthemums. Luminous marigolds. Tender snapdragons. Drifts of brilliant pansies.

And just watch how autumn light transforms every gorgeous hue.

Worth the Wait

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

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Archives: October 2024

Worth the Wait

A designer and a contractor pair up and push the envelope

By Cassie Bustamante  
Photographs by Amy Freeman

When it comes to communicating exactly what she wants, longtime pal Erica Worth hasn’t been the easiest client interior designer Kara Cox has worked with. For instance, when it came to the design of the Figure Eight family beach house, Erica simply told her, “I want the house to look like linen feels.”

Erica straightens up in her seat and tosses her friend a side-eye, the corners of her mouth turning up: “I wanna make Kara work for her money.”

Kara continues to needle her friend, whose Irving Park house project the two have just wrapped up. The inspiration this time around? Erica presented Kara with one solitary item: a throw blanket she’d brought home from Ireland.

“Seriously?” Kara recalls saying. “A throw — that’s it?”

Her order was simple: “Make it look good in every room.” The wool plaid throw — in shades of plum, tan, gray and green — currently rests on the back of their family room sectional, just visible as you enter through the home’s front door.

The door itself is a work of art, expressly designed with a circular space intended for a large-scale, brass lion-head knocker reminiscent of Narnia, original to the 1996 home. “A labor of love,” according to Erica, it’s a custom-built, glass-paneled beauty that allows plenty of light to shine on the newly remodeled foyer and interiors, making it easy to see that the mission was indeed accomplished.

“In every house that I build, I try to put something that was there originally, whether it’s a light fixture or a door knocker or a piece of ironwork or something that belonged to that house,” says Erica. Serving as her own general contractor, she ended up taking the entire first floor of the two-story brick home down to the studs.

She hasn’t always been a contractor, though. In fact, Erica says, “I am fairly new in my industry,” having earned her contractor’s license in 2018 and subsequently establishing her LLC, Worth Builders. While the construction business was in her blood — her own father owned a lumber business and worked in real estate — by trade, Erica had been a practicing accountant for most of her career.

Originally from Elizabethtown, Erica moved to Greensboro in 2003 to work as an accountant for VF Corporation. Soon after, she was introduced to her husband, David, who grew up around the corner from their current home and is now CEO of Worth Industries, “a family of businesses,” including Innisbrook, Shamrock, Lewis Logistics and Capitol Medals. While the two had crossed paths at UNC-Chapel Hill, it wasn’t until they were both living in the Gate City that they really got to know one another.

“It was love at first sight,” says Erica, seated on a blue channel-back chair and wearing a knee-length chambray dress, her brown hair pulled back casually in a loose bun. With a laugh, she adds, “He didn’t know it, but I did.”

Eventually, the couple married, bought a house in Kirkwood, and started a family. With little ones at home, Elsa (now 17) and Percy (now 15), Erica left her full-time job, but, in order to keep some skin in the accounting game, sought a part-time role.

Through mutual friends and activities, Erica became acquainted with Kara Cox, who had just launched Kara Cox Interiors. The two even had daughters in preschool together and their second children, both boys, were just a year apart. They each understood the demands of being working mothers.

“I was looking for a bookkeeper and part-time office manager,” says Kara. “My office was so small we could not work there at the same time!”

“I was picking up paperwork and bringing it back to my house,” adds Erica.

The business growth exceeded Kara’s expectations, who assumed she’d work part-time while raising her own children. “Then it just snowballed and it got to the point where I was like, this is getting bigger than I thought it would.” Her office would move from the closet-sized space at Revolution Mill to a larger site on Banking Street and finally to its current location on State Street.

With that rapid growth came a greater workload for Erica. “Too much,” she says. “And Kara needed more out of me.” In 2016, after working for Kara Cox interiors for five years, Erica decided to leave.

Plus, in the meantime, Erica’s family — and its needs — had grown with the birth of her last baby, Percy, now 12. In early 2014, the Worth family moved into their current Irving Park home.

While no longer employee-employer, the two women remained friends and have collaborated on a handful of projects, adding a new relationship to the mix: contractor-designer. Now, Kara says, “We don’t really remember not knowing each other.”

But that time working for Kara opened Erica’s eyes. She left knowing two things for certain: One, like Kara, she wanted to work for herself; and two, she wanted to be a part of the construction and real estate world. “If I hadn’t gone to work for Kara,” she says, “I probably wouldn’t have been as inspired.”

Newly invigorated, she began snatching up and rehabbing rental properties not far from home, maintaining a part-time schedule and working within a 2-mile radius. But she and David had always said that when their youngest, Percy, headed into second grade, it would be time for Erica to go back to full-time work. Her solution? Become a licensed contractor. That way, she could make her own hours. These days, she plans her projects to run September through May, allowing her to be flexible for her family’s needs while also making time for the things that feed her soul — tennis, yoga, the beach and her beloved mahjong matches.

Green in her industry, she called up Kathy Cross of Southern Cross Homes, a general contractor with over two decades of experience under her tool belt, and asked her to meet for coffee. They traded pleasantries, Erica recalls, “And then finally she’s like, ‘What do you want from me?’”

“I want you to be my mentor,” Erica told her. Since then, she and Kathy have partnered on projects, including some brand-new builds. “She’s been able to show me the ropes.”

Shortly after Erica earned her license, she and Kara once again entered a working relationship when the Worths hired Kara Cox Interiors to design the family beach house in Figure Eight, damaged by a hurricane and in need of a revamp.

“Erica hired a contractor who really didn’t — ,” Kara starts.“ — pan out,” Erica finishes. She hadn’t anticipated taking over the job that far away from home, but she stepped up to get it done.

“Basically, during that process, she ended up becoming the contractor,” adds Kara. And that project became their first collaboration, followed soon by an addition on Kara’s Greensboro home, a client project on Dover Road and, most recently, the Worths’ own Irving Park home.

When the Worth family moved in 10 years ago, they knew they would eventually renovate. What they didn’t know was how long they’d wait to do it. “We thought it would be in the five-year time period and then time just keeps slipping by,” says Erica. “And so here we are.”

But that wait served them well, because now Erica was able to take on the role of general contractor on her own home. And, when it came to construction, she had lots of ideas stirring around in her mind.

However, when it came to the design aspect, she knew she wanted to once again hire Kara Cox Interiors for the job from the get-go.

“I learned a lot when I worked with Kara and I just know that bringing the team together from the beginning creates the best result in the end,” says Erica. So before construction even began, she worked on the building plans, bringing Kara along at that early stage in the game.

Together, the two women picked out cabinetry, floor stains, hardware, a new marble mantel for the living room. When it came to all of the finishes, “it was collaborative,” says Kara.

“For sure,” echoes Erica.

And, together, they enjoy trying new things, challenging subcontractors to tackle projects they’ve never before tried. “The only way to really change the trajectory of architecture and design in a city is to push the envelope a little bit,” quips Kara. Both women wanted to experiment with new ideas in this home.

Case in point? The cabinetmaker told Erica he’d never created the style of cabinetry she and Kara had selected for this project. Her response? “Good, I’m glad that you’re getting a challenge.” In the end, she says, he was thrilled with the result — streamlined, flat-front cabinetry with beveled edges lending to a classically modern aesthetic.

Were there challenges that came with working together? Of course. “We’re strong women,” says Kara. “We have opinions. I think that’s what makes us great friends. We appreciate that in each other.”

With a plan in place, the Worth family moved out in June 2023 and construction on their home began the following month. David’s brother, Jon, a bachelor, lives a couple streets over and welcomed the family into his home for the time being. Fitz and Percy lived in the main house with Jon, while Elsa stayed on the ground floor of the garage, David and Erica just above her.

While it was a little chaotic, Erica notes that their relationship with Jon grew stronger and her kids know him so much better than before. With a hint of sarcasm, she adds, “He probably misses the rowdiness.”

“He probably misses you cooking for him!” adds Kara.

“That, too,” Erica agrees.

On May 6 of this year, the Worths left their temporary quarters behind and headed for home,  ready to be in their own space once again.

There’s a moment in every big project, says Kara, where the clients are exhausted and just want to be done. “They have decision fatigue, budget fatigue. They just want to get back in their house.”

She likens a renovation to childbirth “because the moment is so painful, but when it’s finished, you’re like, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to do that again!’”

Standing in the newly renovated front entry, the year-long renovation feels well worth the disruption.

Before, you could barely even see the rest of the main floor beyond the ’90s-style foyer. And behind that? “A maze of hallways,” says Erica, resulting in an awkward flow and tight quarters. Everything felt choppy and discombobulated. To get to the kitchen, you had to walk through the dining room. And to make that happen, the dining room table had to be off center to allow for a walkthrough.

Now, the dining room features a new, warm-wood table Kara calls “modern classic” — centered, of course — surrounded by Klismos chairs. On the wall, flanking the newly installed almost floor-to-ceiling windows, drapes pick up on the purply-red tones in the Irish throw, the vibrant fabric popping off the cool green-gray walls. The pièce de résistance? Under a gold gallery light, a large landscape painting that looks like it was made for this room.

“When we did the presentation, we had all the colors and things selected,” says Kara. That day, Erica pulled out the painting, which had previously hung in David’s mother’s home. Kara couldn’t believe her eyes — it was perfect.

In the entry itself, Erica re-oriented the entire staircase, taking the foyer from two-story to one and adding a second laundry room upstairs — a huge plus for a family of five, including active, sweaty teenagers.

“We made a proper foyer and you aren’t confused about where you’re going,” says Erica. Plus, she points out three seamless doors that are practically hidden to the naked eye, wallpapered and disappearing right into the walls.

The wallpaper pattern is a simple tan-and-cream, large-scale, modern print. It took her some time to settle on that choice, she admits. “Kara was about to give up on me!”

“I was like, ‘We’ve seen every wallpaper there is!’” Kara chimes in.

In a “ta-da” manner, Erica waves her arms at the walls with a smile on her face. “Finally!”

With neutral walls, an entry rug features colors that unify the adjacent dining room and living room. “That’s all Kara,” says Erica.

The feature Erica is proudest of in the entry is a small architectural detail some may overlook — a brand new arched doorway that connects to the heart of the home. It’s a classic detail designed to give the house — not yet 30 years in age — a feeling of permanence.

“It was purposeful to make it feel older than it was,” notes Erica. Plus, she says, “I really do prefer classical architecture.”

“It didn’t feel like an old house before the renovation,” adds Kara.

As in an older home, that arched detail was carried throughout the main floor, repeated several times: in the trim on the dining room ceiling, in the family room fireplace surround, on the marble built-in bench in the en suite bathroom’s shower — off of a brand-new primary bedroom addition — and, lastly, in the tray ceiling created over the family room extension off the back.

They both pause and admire the new ceiling shape. “We’re the only people who will probably ever notice that this matches,” muses Kara.

“But I do think that women in general have a higher attention to detail than men do,” says Erica. “So when it comes to Kara being on a job site and me being on a job site, the details are in the project.”

On the far side of the addition, a built-in wet bar features light, modern cabinetry. But the standout? The aubergine-and-cream countertop and backsplash. While shopping for another client project in Charlotte, Kara spied this slab and immediately recalled Erica’s throw blanket.

“I sent her a picture of this slab and I was like, ‘Erica, this is it. This is to die for,’” recalls Kara.

Indeed, the details are in this project.

Beyond the back doors of the newly enlarged family room, the Worths added a large porch with a living space and outdoor kitchen. Eventually a patio with a grill will be added below, but, for now, the outdoor kitchen gets loads of use with its griddle, which Erica calls “a blessing.” Why? Because David loves to use it and often cooks the family dinner now.

While the interior kitchen remained where it was originally, the walls surrounding it were opened up and a larger window was installed. Surrounding the new window is a marble casing that matches the countertops. “Kara suggested that,” says Erica.

“That’s where I felt like we had a good time,” Kara adds, referring to the kitchen. Anchoring the space, a large oval island with fluted panels is topped by a dark gray-black marble. Opposite the side with stools is what Erica calls “the turkey oven,” because it’s large enough to roast the family’s Thanksgiving main course.

Another double oven is tucked away in the pantry. “Percy’s oven,” quips Erica, noting that the narrower capacity makes it perfect for baking pizza or chicken tenders. The pantry floors are classic, old-world black-and-white marble tiles. French doors inside are mirrored to create the illusion of more light and space. And on the counter reflected in those mirrored doors is the family pet, a cobalt beta, Le Bleu, named after Le Bleu water because “we own the Le Bleu distributorships around here.”

“What made you get a fish?” asks Kara.

“We’re not getting a dog,” says Erica with a laugh. Le Bleu swims peacefully, peering out from his glass bowl. Erica leaves the pantry light on for him.

Just around the corner from the pantry is a new custom-built, channel-back banquette, ideal for cozying around the table for family meals. A fabric pendant light hangs, adding a touch of color and shapely drama over the neutral table, chairs and upholstery. Too much drama? The baby of the family, Percy, seems to thinks so.

“There needs to be a crib underneath it,” he said when his mom showed it to the family before installation.

“A what?” she asked, certain she’d misunderstood.

“A crib.”

“Well, let’s just hang it and we can change it if it’s not what y’all are feeling,” Eric replied, ending the conversation.

Standing in the kitchen now, Kara rubs her hands together. “Oh, it’s so good!”

Plus, she defends her choice: “It needs that cool pop of color.”

It seems she’s a fan of the colors in the custom-made pendant shade. The dress she’s wearing features Grecian urns and she suddenly realizes it’s as if she meant to match the house’s color scheme.

“Oh, did I?” Kara says, looking down at her frock. “That’s funny!”

“She usually does match her projects,” notes Erica.

While this project is just nearing its end after a little over a year, Kara notes that she likes to “leave room for things to evolve,” even after a client moves back into their space.

“Take it slow,” she continues. “There’s a beauty to collecting and finding the perfect little odd or end and layering that in.”

What’s next for these two? Erica would love to do a custom build with Kara, starting from the ground up. “That would be fun,” Kara agrees. And though Kara is about to celebrate 15 years in business, she admits that she’s feeling inspired by the schedule and life Erica’s built for herself. Her own two kids are close to college-age — she’ll be an empty-nester at just 48 — and she wants more flexibility, too. “I am ready to take fewer projects and have more free time,” she says.

“I may be the only person in Greensboro who doesn’t play mahjong . . . because I have to work!” Kara says.

“I can teach you,” says Erica.

Life’s Funny

LIFE'S FUNNY

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Cloak & Wagger

Halloween costumes have gone to the dogs . . . and cats . . . and hamsters . . . and ferrets . . . and bearded dragons

By Maria Johnson

Two years ago, Millie was a ladybug for Halloween.

She wore a smart red-and-black velour jacket, cinched at the waist, with a shawl collar that pooled elegantly around her neck.

OK, it wasn’t really a shawl collar. It was a ladybug hood with antennae that Millie, a petite hound, kept shaking off because she can’t stand things on her ears.

The point is, red is Millie’s color, and she was quite fetching when I took her to the annual dog-o-ween parade in my mom’s townhouse community, which is not officially a retirement village, but is, shall we say, very silver.

As a result, small dogs are plentiful. So one Sunday afternoon before Halloween, residents gussy up their pups and take a lap around the neighborhood, stopping at homes where the few non-dog-owners sit outside with treats.

The dogs gobble as they go. They remind me of the chunky trick-or-treater who once came to my childhood home.

“Where’s your bag?” my dad asked as he doled out candy bars.

“Right here,” the kid said, slapping his belly with both hands.

Unlike the belly slapper, who snarfed his Baby Ruth as he walked away, the dogs at dog-o-ween usually inhale their first treats on the spot then stare down the giver, implying that a second, third or  — why not? — fourth treat is customary.

Sometimes, the furry beggars get downright aggressive, snouting their way into a bag of Beggin’ Strips that’s held too close.

If a small human tried this with, say, a bag of fun-size Snickers, he would end up in a doorbell video on social media the next morning with the plea, “DOES ANYONE KNOW THIS CHILD?”

For dogs, though, people respond with a grace reserved for four-legged animals.

“Ha-ha-ha,” they say. “You scamp!”

This kind of cheerful generosity is more in line with the origins of dressing up at Halloween, which some historians trace back to the 19th-century Scottish practice of “guising,” or putting on costumes and performing in exchange for food and drink.

Over in Germany, they played a similar game, “Belsnickeling,” which called for children to don masks and costumes at Christmastime. If no one guessed their true identities, the tykes were rewarded with food.

Going back even further in time, the ancient Celts — who lived across what’s now Great Britain — observed an autumn festival called Samhain (pronounced SAH-win).

These pagan partygoers dressed as ghouls to blend in with the mischievous ghosts they believed roamed the earth during harvest time, when the veil between living and dead was the thinnest.

The locals lit bonfires and left food, drink, crops and other offerings to appease the spirits.

You could draw a couple of conclusions from these traditions.

One: There wasn’t a whole heck of lot going on in Western Europe back in the day.

Two: People are happy to play dress-up if there’s an immediate payoff, such as food, drink or not getting swept off to the netherworld.

The same reward system goes for dogs. Because Millie associates wearing a Halloween costume with getting food, she doesn’t seem to mind being dolled up.

Last year, she wore a simple jester’s collar, partly because of the ear sensitivity issue and partly because I didn’t make enough time to shop for a proper costume. This year, I started early.

There are so many choices.

For several years, pet owners were limited to dog costumes and only a smattering of cat costumes, which makes sense. Dogs will work for food, even if it means wearing a wonky costume. Cats, not so much.

If I see you on Halloween, bloodied and dressed in tatters, I will not assume that you’re headed to a party dressed as a zombie. I will assume you tried to dress your cat as a Minion.

Nevertheless, the selection of get-ups for cats and dogs has mushroomed to hundreds, enough to break into subcategories. One pet supply website has costume tabs for “Trending” (stegosaurus, happy cow, granny); “TV and movie” (Buzz Lightyear, R2D2, Cookie Monster): “Funny” (snail, werewolf, hula girl, skunk); and “Career” (mail carrier, UPS driver, chef).

Many are so-called front-walking costumes featuring pants that make a dog’s front legs look like human legs, along with stuffed arms that stick out and hold a prop.

So if you squint your eyes and pretend you don’t see the other 95 percent of your neighbor’s Bichon frisé, you could believe that a 1-foot-tall UPS driver in dire need of facial waxing is delivering a tiny package to your door.

Believable, given the current hiring situation.

On the other hand, it’s highly unlikely that this delivery “person” would be focused on anything other than ripping open the box and gnawing off its own arms.

If your dog is small enough, you might try a variation of the front-walking costume: the no-walking costume.

I give you the winner of last year’s Fort Greene Park dog costume contest in Brooklyn, N.Y., a chihuahua mix that rode in a pet carrier draped with a small pale suit and white button-down shirt. It helped that the dog, which lent only its head to the ensemble, bore an uncanny resemblance to Talking Heads singer David Byrne.

The crowd roared its approval.

Basically, no creature is safe from human merriment. These days, websites offer costumes for multiple species. The fashionable guinea pig or ferret might show up for Halloween — though God knows where — dressed as a bumblebee, butterfly or leprechaun.

A bearded dragon, meanwhile, could turn out as a small lobster, a cowboy, a unicorn or, cruelly, a cricket.

I’m not sure who thought that one up. Probably the same sadist who decided it would be funny to make a dog costume with stuffed squirrels frolicking on the back, while the dog wears an acorn cap.

Ha-ha-ha, said no dog, ever.

Thank goodness, none of the front-walking costumes are in play for Millie, though I truly wish she would tolerate a wig with a red bandana, long braided pigtails and guitar-holding arms.

Then she could be Millie Nelson.

After much consideration, though, I’ve ordered her a tennis dress. Like her mama, she’s obsessed with chasing tennis balls, and after all, who wouldn’t want to be recognized as the great Millie Jean King?. 

Sazerac

SAZERAC

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Sage Gardener

Drive down any country road as fall approaches, and you are likely to see a lot more Jerusalem artichokes than you could ever eat. The golden, daisy-like flowers gloriously polkadot almost every verge in Piedmont North Carolina. And, yes, they are native, though some label them invasive, but more about that later.

My introduction to Helianthus tuberosus was at my mother’s table, where my dad heaped Braswell’s sensational, bright-yellow artichoke relish on his pinto beans as I still do. The turmeric-spiked relish probably originated in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where Mrs. Sassard’s version, like a lot of things in Charleston, “is world famous.”

Jerusalem artichokes themselves are world famous, exported as a delicacy from the New World to France in the 1600s, where they were initially hailed, like so many novelties from the New World, as “dainties fit for queens” — but likely before the queen and her court actually tried them. By 1621, one writer complained, “which way soever they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind . . . and are a meat more fit for swine than men.” Not surprisingly, their popularity in Europe dimmed, and it wasn’t until recently that chefs, searching for tasty and unusual local produce, rediscovered them. They were quickly dubbed a superfood because of their nutritional value and their containing — keto alert! — inulin instead of starch. (Inulin is a carb related to the sugar fructose, but is largely indigestible, making sunchokes, as some marketing guru relabeled them, a good choice for diabetics.)

Soon, upscale eateries were featuring Jerusalem artichoke orzotto graced with parsley-and-peanut pesto or truffled sunchokes with brie and honey.

If you’ve never had them, they are slightly sweet with notes of peanut, potato and water chestnut. Not, in fact, much like an artichoke, despite the name. “Jerusalem” purportedly arose when some half-witted Brit tried to pronounce the Italian word for sunflower, girasole. “They can take the form of velvety purees, soups, hearty gratins, crunch crisps (French fries), stew fillings, creamy mash and even ice cream!” enthused one gourmet. 

They are so prolific that Master Gardeners issue warnings. Like crabgrass — and every bit as aggressive — they spread underground by rhizomes. I’ve seen them take over not one but several adjacent raised beds in a community garden. One gardener reported transplanting two plants and ending up with 70 pounds. With each plant producing as many as 20 tubers, “as potatoes were requisitioned for World War II,” one writer says, “Jerusalem artichokes saved millions from starvation,” providing food for humans and livestock.

Harvested from October to March, they are available from time to time in farmers markets and grocery stores. Worried about the gastric distress? Through the miracles of modern science, some home economics scientist discovered that cooking them with lemon juice transforms them through something called acid hydrolysis, rendering them gone with the wind.

Just One Thing

“A camera lies,” says Greensboro artist James Celano, who graduated from the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts more than 40 years ago. Known for his oil paintings of still life, figures and landscapes, Celano says he prefers to paint from life and can tell when an artist is working from a camera image. There are giveaways, he says, such as an exaggerated foreground that disrupts the scale. But the biggest reason he avoids it? “I find that work very flat emotionally.” A born-and-raised northerner, Celano and his wife, Diane, made the Gate City home over 30 years ago, bringing with them their toddler son and their own textile design business, Diane Celano Studios, which serviced clients such as Burlington Industries. “That’s how we paid the bills and kept me independent and free from having to depend on galleries.” Celano converted their home’s two-car garage into a studio space. It’s there that he sets up objects and paints his still life oils. Dollface, seen here, is part of a birds-eye view series and will be part of an exhibition at Ambleside Gallery. “It’s been about 15 years since I’ve exhibited in Greensboro,” says Celano. While he’s participated in GreenHill’s Winter Show, this is his first solo exhibition here in a long time. He’s gathered 26 new paintings, most of them still life, that will be on display from October 4–31, with an opening reception from 6–9 p.m. on October 4.

Window to the Past

Feeling witch-crafty? Go homemade with your Halloween costume this year. Give it a whirl — just as these Grimsley Whirlies once did back in 1949.

Water Color Talk

If you’ve walked into The Art Gallery (TAG) at Congdon Yards in High Point recently, you may have already spied the Watercolor Society of North Carolina Exhibition, a juried show featuring 69 paintings created by its members. On September 29 — ahem, before we went to press — the best in show was selected by this year’s juror, renowned watercolor artist Lana Privitera. Originally from Spain, Privitera is a signature member of both the National and American Watercolor Societies. Since we couldn’t yet share the show’s winner, we’re showing off what this judge is capable of. Some Cups and Polka Dots is not a photograph. Despite what your eyes may tell you, it’s a watercolor on paper. Frankly, her painting of dishware looks more realistic than the photos our iPhone 13 snaps — obviously a result of considerable talent combined with epic patience. It “went through many stages and many weeks of work before I felt that the composition and the balance of colors, values and texture were cohesive and interesting,” she reflects. Plus, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work before the paintbrush tip ever hits the paper. “Coming up with a unique composition and theme that might also appeal to other people is not easy,” says Privitera, “so the planning stage of any of my watercolors often takes more time than applying the many layers of paint themselves.” So, what was Privitera looking for in a winner? Someone who, like her, “takes their time creating unique and well-balanced compositions.” As for her selection, you’ll just have to head over to TAG to see the piece she thought brushed with greatness. The exhibit ends Oct. 31. Info: tagart.org/exhibits/watercolor-society-of-north-carolina-exhibition.

Unsolicited Advice

With the holidays just a couple months away, and the cooler, shorter days creeping in, October is the ideal time to begin a new crafty hobby — one that results in homemade gifts for everyone on your gift-giving list.

Cross Stitch: Start with the basic “X” and grow from there. Soon, you’ll be whipping out adorable pieces with charming sayings like our personal fav: “What doesn’t kill you gives you a set of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a dark sense of humor.” Bonus, you can tell your dentist you do, in fact, floss every day.

Canning: How about them apples? Turn ‘em into jam, jelly or applesauce. FYI, stock up. Because no matter what Baby Boom had you believe, 2,537 apples = 3 jars of applesauce (approximately). Apples not your jam? Try pickled beets or pumpkin butter. Yes, you can.

Candle Making: Hit up your local thrift shops for unique vintage glass vessels. Fill ‘em with soy wax and your own custom scent. Hints of bourbon, leather and cuban cigar? We call that one “Grandpa’s recliner.”

Witchcraft: Heck, it is October, after all.

Clubhouse Rules

CLUBHOUSE RULES

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Clubhouse Rules

You can have anything you want, as long as it’s salad

By Maria Johnson   •   Photographs by Bert VanderVeen

Gracious hostess that she is, my neighbor, Olivia Bonino, ushers me into her kitchen, the birthplace of many meals that she serves to guests who frequent the airy abode she shares with her younger brother, Connor.

Connor doesn’t cook much, but he does add a certain dinosaur-fueled pizzazz to the place.

Sitting at her plywood island, Olivia continues on the subject of food.

“This is where we prep it. Then they eat it. Some of it,” she says, explaining that her specialty is salad made from store-bought fruit such as blueberries, blackberries and grapes, along with “cucamelon,” a small hybrid cucumber that grows in her yard, plus a “secret ingredient.”

With that, she reaches out, grabs a branch of a scraggly plant growing at the edge of her kitchen, and pulls it closer to indicate that this is the good stuff.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Not sure,” Olivia says, adding that a guest once tasted it, and “he did not throw up or get sick,” so it has been a staple of her salads ever since.

A first-grader, Olivia saunters out of the kitchen to show off more features of her domicile, which she breezily calls a “clubhouse.” Others might call it a playhouse. Or a tree fort.

Call it what you will. It is her home away from home — like, 40 feet away from her official home — but it’s as much a refuge as any home, anywhere, at any price point.

The tour proceeds.

Here on the south side of the house, she explains, we have the climbing wall.

Here, on the north side, we have the wavy slide. She grabs a cord that dangles above the slide and demonstrates how, after descending, one might pull oneself back up the slide for another go, or, if she took a notion, rappel down the slide backward.

“That’s my favorite thing to do: walk backward,” she says.

We ascend the stairs to the second level, part the beaded curtains made from recycled ball-pit balls, and step into the 9-by-11-foot great room.

The view is stunning, taking in the emerald green outfield and part of the red clay infield of Greensboro Day School’s baseball diamond.

This was the home-run view that the builders — Olivia’s parents, Dominic Bonino of Greensboro’s Bonino Construction and his wife, Laura — wanted to highlight when they started making Olivia and Connor’s rustic haven in the fall of 2022, two years after moving into their home off Lake Brandt Road.

Olivia was 2 when the family relocated and Connor was not yet born, but Laura already had designs on a backyard getaway for the kids — and, occasionally, for the adults.

She was tickled to live next to a baseball field, given her family history. Her grandfather on her father’s side, Ken Keiper, was a well-known player, coach and scout in Western Pennsylvania. He was inducted into the University of Pittsburgh-Johnstown’s sports hall of fame in 2014. Laura remembers attending games as a child.

Moving in next to a baseball field as an adult, she was excited about watching games with her own young family. A couple of years after Connor was born, she pitched her idea to Dominic.

He had a blueprint in his head. It called for a deck, lofted and braced on three corners. The fourth corner would be bolted to a mature maple tree. Floating 6 feet above ground — high enough to see over the privacy fence — the deck would feature proper stairs, double-framed railings inset with welded wire and a gabled roof pierced by one of the maple’s limbs.

In the span of four months, mostly on fair-weather weekends, Dominic roughed in the perch. He asked his roofing subcontractor to send over a crew to shingle the gable and make it watertight around the branch. He asked several times.

“I think he was wondering if it was some kind of janky thing that wouldn’t support their weight,” says Dominic, who finally sent pictures of his craftsmanship.

“If I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna do it right,” he says. “I wanted it to be sound enough to where, if we wanted to get 10 adults up there, we could.”

Convinced, the roofer dispatched a crew. They gave the clubhouse a proper roof and used a vent boot and flashing tape to seal the hole around the tree branch, giving the maple room to sway and grow.

Soon, a wavy slide and climbing wall sprouted at the sides of the clubhouse. Laura gathered furniture and accessories, picking up pieces from family, dollar stores and the local Buy Nothing Project, an app that promotes member giveaways.

So far, her haul includes colorful handholds and footholds for the climbing wall.

Small plastic tables and chairs.

A couple of pillows that say “Relax.”

A thermometer that promises “Butterfly Kisses and Rose Petal Wishes.”

A plastic mirror salvaged from a baby’s crib.

A string of star-shaped lights, solar powered.

A dinner bell.

An eight-note xylophone for a doorbell.

A pouch-style mailbox.

A couple of John Deere license plates from her grandparents’ farm.

And a set of gymnastics mats, which Olivia, Connor and their friends pitch as an A-frame hut used chiefly for spying, Olivia says.

“By the way,” she says, nodding toward my yard. “Your bird feeder looks pretty low on food.”

When Olivia, her brother, and a constantly rising and falling tide of neighborhood kids are not spying and serving salads, they are often sitting at small tables, working on art projects. Sometimes, their creativity spills over to the deck railings, which are decorated with rainbows, illustrated menu items and other childhood hieroglyphics rendered in crayon and colored pencil.

And, oh, they watch baseball games.

They pull for the home team, the Bengals, during their spring season.

“Ben-GALS, Ben-GALS, Ben-GALS,” the pint-sized fans chant.

Once in a rare while, if they like the opposing team’s uniforms, they’ll allow a cheer for the visitors.

But they’re a heavily partisan group. If the Bengals are down, they have been known to heckle the other side.

“Your pitcher has a big butt,” they taunt.

Occasionally, Laura and Dominic call down their charges.

But that rarely happens because of the house rules, which Olivia distills to their essence:

1. No jumping or name-calling from the platform.

2. No ratting out people who break Rule 1.

Seated in tiny Adirondack chairs approximately 4 inches off the ground— I’ll worry about how to stand up later — Olivia and I take in the extraordinary view from her living area late one summer afternoon.

Cumulus clouds climb in the distance.

Traffic swishes by on a nearby road.

A breeze sighs through the leaves, casting a filigree of shadows on the pressure treated boards before our feet.

Does Olivia wish for more in her home?

Of course.

An elevator would be nice, she says.

And refrigerator.

And a bathroom.

And a zip line.

Still, these 99 square feet —198 if you count the ground-floor kitchen — give her what she needs.

A place to rest.

A place to create.

A place to wonder.

“It’s my mini-home,” she says.

Glorious Restoration

GLORIOUS RESTORATION

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Glorious Restoration

A remade Reynolda landmark is beautiful to behold

By Ross Howell Jr.   •   Photographs by Amy Freeman

On a steamy August day, I’m driving along leafy Silas Creek Parkway in Winston-Salem, headed for Reynolda, the storied estate that is now part of Wake Forest University.

I’ve been invited to have a look at the top-to-bottom restoration of Reynolda’s gleaming, glass conservatory — the very first structure built on the property — before it opens to the public in October.

I turn at the entrance and pass the retail shops and eateries of Reynolda Village. Facing the parking area is a big sign that announces the impending opening of the “Brown Family Conservatory and Reynolda Welcome Center.” Just beyond the sign, I glimpse the glittering top of the structure formerly known as the palm house and greenhouse.

Work on the restoration has been going on for nearly a year, all made possible by a gift from longtime Reynolda supporters, Malcolm and Patricia Brown, who have three generations of family living in Winston-Salem.

I continue along a narrow drive, past walkers and joggers, and pull into a parking lot near the Reynolda House Museum of American Art. Completed in 1917 as the home of the R.J. Reynolds family, the museum now houses a permanent collection of three centuries of American art and sculpture, along with special rotating exhibitions and extensive online galleries.

I’m greeted at the museum entrance by Brittany Norton, director of marketing and communications. With Norton is the director of archives and library, Bari Helms. Prior to coming to Reynolda, she was an archivist at the Library of Virginia in Richmond. Finally, there’s Phil Archer, deputy director of Reynolda House. A native of Pennsylvania, he attended Wake Forest University for both undergrad and grad school, and has been with Reynolda for more than 20 years.

Helms has put together some materials, so we head for the archives. There, she directs our attention to a large rendering produced by Lord and Burnham, the premier builder of glasshouses in America during the mid-19th and early 20th century.

Helms slides the rendering toward Archer.

“Have you ever seen this?” she asks. “I found it in some boxes.”

Archer shakes his head, touching a finger to the edge of the drawing.

“I don’t think so,” he says. “Not with those perpendicular wings.”

“A little too ‘Versailles’ for Katharine, isn’t it?” Archer asks. He, Helms and Norton exchange knowing smiles.

Helms shows us a letter from a certain “Katharine” to Lord and Burnham, dated May 27, 1912. In it, Katharine details what she wants the conservatory to include — a palm room, a “good-sized” grapery, a tomato section, a large vegetable section, a propagating room and a “nice workroom.”

When Lord and Burnham responded with their plans and perspectives, and their quote for $7,147, Katharine wrote back that it was too much money. The greenhouse additions in the rendering were removed.

“In all her correspondence, you get a sense of how direct, hands-on and detail-oriented Katharine was,” Helms says. I don’t want to show my ignorance by wondering aloud who Katharine is, so I let them go on.

In December 1912, Helms resumes, Katharine wrote a letter to Lord and Burnham, complaining that the workers they’d promised had not yet arrived on site. In January 1913, she wrote again, noting that parts of the conservatory were not being built to her specifications.

“Katharine was very polite about it,” Helms says. “But insisted that she was making Lord and Burnham aware of the issue so they would fix it.”

No doubt they did.

And here I am, still wondering, “Who was Katharine?”

Those of you who know Reynolda just muttered, “Well, bless his heart.”

In my two decades living in Greensboro, until my visit today, I’d been to the estate only once, bumbling around Monkee’s of the Village, a boutique, while my wife, Mary Leigh, picked out a pair of Tory Burch boots.

So, for those of you as benighted as I was, here’s a quick study.

Born in Mount Airy in 1880, Katharine Smith Reynolds was a daughter of America’s Gilded Age and a wife in the Progressive Era of the industrialized New South. In the period photographs at Reynolda, she’s the young woman in the gorgeous outfits who doesn’t seem to be looking at the camera, but, rather, directly into your soul.

To this day, her spirit and determination inform every aspect of Reynolda.

Leaving her home in Mount Airy in 1897 to attend the State Normal and Industrial School — now UNCG — she later withdrew because of a typhoid epidemic and finished her studies at Sullins College in Bristol, Virginia. In 1902, Katharine joined the R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company in Winston-Salem, where she served as personal secretary to the owner, R.J., a distant cousin who was 30 years her senior. In 1905, Katharine and R.J. married.

Between 1906 and 1911, Katharine gave birth to four children — at grave personal risk, according to her physicians, since she had been plagued with heart problems that started in childhood.

By all accounts, the Reynolds marriage was a happy one, and R.J. was confident in his young wife’s abilities, often consulting her on business matters.

Backed by her husband’s increasing wealth, Katharine began to purchase tracts of land near Winston-Salem. She would eventually acquire more than 1,000 acres, each parcel deeded in her name alone. Her idea was a Progressive one — to create a self-sufficient estate that included a country house, a farm utilizing the latest in technology and agricultural practices, a dairy, recreational facilities and a school.

The Reynolda conservatory was an integral part of Katharine’s design.

OK, class dismissed.

Archer and I leave the archives and head outside. As we approach the conservatory, he points out details — the iron skeleton of the structure, though all the glass and aluminum fittings are new; the foundations, built from fieldstones found on the property; the locations where the electrical lines are buried, hidden, just as they were when the village was being built.

“Katherine wanted the estate to look and feel like an old English hamlet,” Archer says.

“Burying utilities was high-tech for Katharine’s time,” he adds. “But that’s what she wanted.”

At the conservatory, I’m greeted by Jon Roethling, the director of Reynolda Gardens. He joined the estate in 2018, after serving as curator of grounds for the Mariana H. Qubein Botanical Gardens at High Point University. He has served in public horticulture and landscaping for more than 30 years.

Roethling’s been leading the restoration project.

He tells me that the work has been done by Cincinnati-based Rough Brothers (pronounced rauh), now a subsidiary of Prospiant.

“Rough Brothers has access to actual Lord and Burnham plans and molds,” Roethling says.

So, for the Reynolda restoration, the company could use templates on hand, extruding aluminum pieces to match the originals.

The tinted glass needed for the restoration was made by another company. Since it’s so specialized, the company only manufactures it twice a year. That was a big setback to Roethling’s schedule and delayed completion by months.

But the wait was worth it because the unsightly aluminum shutters added to the palm house and greenhouses in a previous renovation could be removed. Moreover, the manufacturer had the equipment to produce curved glass. This meant that the elegant shape of the original architecture — supplanted by the use of flat glass panes in a previous renovation — could be restored.

“When I walk into the palm house now, the architecture just sings,” Roethling says.

And there were the challenges of heating and ventilation — critical to a conservatory.

“We stayed with the original concept of radiant heat,” Roethling explains, “though the new system is very sophisticated.”

Ventilation was a trickier issue, since the conservatory is vented throughout — foundations, walls and roof. From the time the conservatory was built until this restoration, these many vents had to be cranked open or shut by hand.

“You have to strike this balance of having architecture that reflects 1913, but also having the convenience and efficiency of systems that are modern-day,” Roethling says.

“Knowing Katharine, one of the most progressive women of her time, I was sure there was no way she would want us to be hand cranking vents in this day and age,” Roethling continues. “So we made the jump to automated.”

The new system automatically responds to wind flow, wind speed and precipitation, adjusting ventilation as needed. Adjustments can also be made remotely, using Wi-Fi.

Recently, when Roethling noticed a thunderstorm developing nearby, he went to the conservatory to see how the system would respond.

“As the wind rose and the storm started rolling through, I watched the vents immediately close a bit,” he says. “When the wind grew stronger, the vents shut completely, protecting the greenhouses.”

We take a quick look at the welcome center, which is adjacent to the conservatory. It will be the orientation point for the facility. There are cabinet doors still to be hung and counters to be finished. In the future it will include plants, Reynolda-branded merchandise and historical information.

Leaving the welcome center, we step into the high-ceilinged palm room. The new tinted glass is working. While the area is warm, it’s not nearly as hot as I thought it would be on this sweltering summer day.

Walking outdoors to the open area in front of the conservatory, we have a full view of the central structure and greenhouses flanking it. The span, end-to-end, is more than 300 feet.

Sod has been laid the entire length. This will be a walking path for visitors. Between the edge of the sod and the foundations of the greenhouses are newly prepared planting beds, about 8 feet wide.

Roethling tells me that Reynolda has long been recognized for its peonies.

“The problem is, once the peonies bloomed out, that was pretty much it, visually,” he says.

With the restoration ongoing, Roethling wanted to do something significant about the peony beds.

“I needed someone who could do something amazing,” he says.

Roethling reached out to Jenks Farmer, a plantsman in Columbia, S.C. A published horticultural writer, Farmer served as director of Riverbanks Botanical Garden in West Columbia and was the founding horticulturist of Moore Farms Botanical Gardens in Lake City, both in South Carolina.

Farmer created a design for the peony beds incorporating other perennials that will provide visual interest throughout the growing season.

“Jenks is great,” Roethling says. “He loves balancing history with what’s relevant today. When he gets up here in a few days, we’ll lay out the beds and throw a team at them to get all the plants in the ground.”

Roethling smiles.

“It’s been a little bit like a three-ring circus,” he says. “I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when we open in October.”

Now he directs my attention to the conservatory.

“Each bay will have a different theme,” Roethling says. “This first bay will be in the spirit of an orangerie, which represents the birth of greenhouses.” (For the uninitiated, an “orangerie” is just what it sounds like, a greenhouse where orange trees are grown).  He explains that it will be filled with citrus trees, much like the original 17th-century orangeries in England and throughout Europe. The bay will also feature olive trees and other fruiting plants and will be used to illustrate a narrative history of the development of greenhouse structures over the centuries.

The next bay will be an arid greenhouse, featuring the five Mediterranean climates of the world — Southern California, the Mediterranean Basin, South Australia, South Africa’s cape area and central Chile.

“This will be a fun thing to educate kids,” Roethling says. “To explore with them how the plant palette changes, how the plants adapt.”

The central palm house will be elegant in its features. In big containers, there will be sealing wax palms with their deep red canes and tall Bismarck palms with their silver fronds.

“There will be a lot of texture — greens, whites and silvers,” Roethling adds. Visitors will be able to compare the broad texture of a palm frond to, say, the fine texture of a fern.

The next greenhouse bay will feature bromeliads, orchids and other flora that thrive in the tropics. And it will be about color — abundant, dramatic color. Listening to Roethling talk about this greenhouse, you hear his self-professed “plant geek” revealed.

“In here, I want to have freaky things that visitors walk up to and ask, ‘What is that?’” He smiles broadly.

The final bay will serve as a holding house for orchids that are resting. The plants will be organized by types, with interpretative signage.

“Even though the orchids won’t be in bloom there,” Roethling says, “that greenhouse will still be beautiful and educational.”

Just as Katharine would have expected.