Feature | O.Henry Magazine

Knowing When to Bale

KNOWING WHEN TO BALE

Knowing When to Bale

For Rachel York, a straw-bale home was the answer to her domestic riddle

By Maria Johnson
Photographs by Betsy Blake

When Rachel York moved back into her parents’ Greensboro home almost four years ago, everyone agreed it was a good thing.

Her dad was dealing with Parkinson’s Disease, and Rachel could help manage his health and keep her parents in their Lake Daniel home as long as possible.

The homecoming would help Rachel, too, because the cost of living in Maine, where she had moved in 2018 to earn a master’s degree in studio art, had shot up during the pandemic.

So Rachel, a visual artist and musician, moved into the attic bedroom of her parents’ home. Her folks, Jane and John York, both retired public school teachers, had converted her childhood bedroom into a study after she left home.

Soon, the house felt snug for three adults.

“Boundaries were hard,” says Rachel, now 37.

But her parents’ backyard was big.

So Rachel scanned the internet for information on small homes that could be built on the property. Nesting magazines call them accessory dwelling units, or ADUs.

That’s when Rachel read about straw-bale homes, which have exterior walls that are literally stuffed with bales of straw.

It’s an old idea. Humans have used straw as a building material since prehistoric times. Native Americans sometimes stuffed straw between the inner and outer layers of their teepees. European pioneers built homes with blocks of straw after the invention of mechanical balers in the late 1890s.

Modern straw-bale homes have refined the practice.

Rachel was intrigued by the idea that she might be able to have a compact, distinctive, energy-saving home on her parents’ property.

“It stuck in my brain,” she says. “I just thought it was incredible.”

More searching led her to Amanda Jane Albert, whose Greensboro business, Inhabit, designs and builds sustainable homes.

Rachel asked Amanda if she’d be interested in doing a straw-bale home for her.

Amanda was not only interested; she was experienced. Over the last several years, she had worked with nonprofits to build more than a dozen straw-bale homes for low-income families out West.

A licensed contractor since 2020, she had been wanting to try the building techniques in Greensboro.

“We needed the right client,” she says.

Rachel was that client.

Amanda drew four plans for her.

Rachel picked a 700-square-foot design with shotgun-style layout: a great room that flows into a studio, which leads to a bedroom.

Because Rachel’s neighborhood does not have a homeowners association, there is no prohibition on separate ADUs as long as they meet city zoning requirements.

But because straw-bale homes are so rare in this area — Amanda says there are about a dozen in the state, and hers is the first in Greensboro — there’s no statewide building code for the structures.

To issue permits, the Greensboro building department required Amanda to hire a licensed structural engineer, one who was experienced with residential projects, to sign off on the plan.

Construction began in July 2024 with the pouring of 18-inch-wide concrete beams above grade.

Amanda’s crew framed the home and raised the exterior plywood walls.

To weatherproof the box, they added a white metal roof to reflect the sun’s heat, and they built a floor that was layered, from the ground up, with a waterproof barrier, gravel, fill dirt and a rough coat of adobe plaster made from clay, sand and straw scraps. Later, the floor would be finished with a finer coat of adobe and sealed with natural oils and beeswax.

Once the structure was enclosed, the crew started baling.

Bristling blocks of straw, culled from wheat grown in Alamance County, were stacked like bricks on the concrete beam. The crew notched out the bales with chain saws to fit around the wall studs. They used grinders to cut channels for electrical cables.

To finish the interior walls, two coats of adobe plaster — one rough, one fine — were slathered directly onto the bales.

“You just glob it on with your hands and use a trowel to try to keep it level,” says Rachel, a gungho homeowner who had no formal training in “globbing” but rolled up her sleeves to work side-by-side with the building crew. She recruited friends, family and neighbors to help sift sand and clay, push wheelbarrows and smooth the plaster.

“It felt like what I would imagine an old-fashioned barn raising would be,” she says. “All of it was fun. Like, seriously hard labor, but fun and joyful.”

Friends bubbled with questions about the house.

Q: Do the straw bales pose a fire hazard?

A: No, according to Amanda, the straw is so tightly packed it would only smolder if exposed to a flame.

Q: What about the electrical wires embedded in the walls?

A: The wires are heavy duty, rated for underground use.

Q: Will rodents and other critters try to nest in straw?

A: Rodents can get into walls only where there’s a gap. The
straw bales are sealed all the way around.

Q: What about humidity in this climate?
Could the straw get moldy?

A: A vapor-permeable air barrier on the outside wall allows any water molecules to escape. On the inside, adobe plaster does the same, Amanda says. “Clay is an excellent humidity regulator.”

In keeping with Amanda’s tradition of naming her projects, Rachel, an avid birder, decided to call her home The Bower, after the resourceful bowerbird, which uses straw and grass to weave arched nests on the ground. Another, more literary, definition of bower is a lady’s private room, which describes Rachel’s refuge perfectly.

The home was finished in August 2025.

Rachel and Amanda advertised an open house on social media.

Old friends and new neighbors showed up.

“It helped us to be more a part of the community,” Rachel says.

Many people were surprised at how large The Bower felt inside. They talked about the abundant light, the attention to detail and the decorative flair.

Contrary to what they might have read about the flimsy straw home in The Three Little Pigs, The Bower felt solid and well-crafted — a custom-built reflection of Rachel’s artistic heart and commitment to honoring the natural world.

Maybe that’s because Amanda and Rachel literally wove the outdoors into the interior.

As soon as visitors step through the mango-yellow front door, they are greeted with a showstopper: a wall made with an old English method known as wattle-and-daub, in which plaster is stuck to woven branches.

In Rachel’s home, the wall stops about a foot shy of the ceiling, and some of the underlying lattice — which includes cuttings of bamboo, elderberry and ligustrum from around the city — is exposed at the top.

A fallen branch from a willow oak in the backyard anchors one end of the wall, jutting into a doorway to form a true art installment.

One of the crew members, a ceramicist, added more wow to the wall by sculpting an elm tree into the adobe plaster, a tribute to a living tree on the property.

The home’s organic eye candy gets even better.

From the wattle-and-daub wall, visitors’ eyes climb to a lofty, wraparound bookshelf nestled close to the cypress plank ceiling.

The cypress, which came from a discount lumber company, was harvested in Eastern North Carolina.

The bookshelf was made with old barn wood that Amanda found at Preservation Greensboro’s Architectural Salvage.

Closer to the ground, the home hums a medley of thrift finds, recycled building materials, meaningful objects from Rachel’s life and dabs of modernity.

Wooden chairs and rockers came from Rachel’s grandparents’ home and from Milltown 87 Antiques & Collectibles, a vintage warehouse in Burlington.

A drop-leaf table came from Red Collection.

Bob Beerman and his wife, Teresa Rasco, who founded Bass Violin Shop, where Rachel works in customer service and bookkeeping, gave her a richly-colored, wool rug.

Rachel’s own bass fiddle stands in the corner, a nod to the legacy of her mom, who last taught orchestra at Penn-Griffin School for the Arts in High Point. Rachel’s father taught English at the same school.

In another corner, a Raku-fired vase made by Rachel’s late friend, ceramicist Hiroshi Sueyoshi of Wilmington, occupies a display niche scooped out of the wall.

A few feet away — above a stylish microfiber sofa from Sabai, a women-owned business in High Point — curiosity snags on a book-sized stained-glass door built into the wall.

Rachel’s artist friend, Lindsay Mercer, designed the glass to depict a bowerbird. When visitors open the door, they look through a piece of glass into the field-grown essence of the home.

“It’s called a ‘truth window’ because you can see the straw bales in the walls,” says Amanda.

The kitchen is an ode to artful economy. The stained glass lamp hanging over the island also came from Milltown 87. The butcher-block countertops, made from American walnut, came from Floor & Decor. The mint-green backsplash tile was salvaged from another job of Amanda’s. She bought the unfinished cabinets online. The cabinets were finished with dark green linseed oil paint and hung on the home’s north wall, the only wall that’s not filled with straw bales.

Plumbing cannot be run in straw-bale walls in case of leaks. Amanda also needed the strength of studs behind the wall to hang cabinets. Still, she wanted the home’s north face to have an insulation value comparable to the straw walls, so she designed an 8-inch-thick double-studded wall with two rows of staggered two-by-fours.

She hung sheetrock on the interior and filled the gaps between inner and outer walls with blown-in cellulose insulation and sheep wool.

To sustain herself and the planet, Rachel picked energy-efficient appliances: an induction stove, a convection oven and downsized dishwasher. Even though her home steps lightly on the Earth, Rachel feels spoiled by it.

“Having a dishwasher is luxurious to me,” she says.

So is having a studio for her creative endeavors, which, lately have included drawing with chalk pastels. She also freelances as a singer and bass player, and as a graphic artist. Among her designs: the fox and grapes logo of Scuppernong, an independent book store where she used to work. Recently, she drew up signs to help Amanda market a total renovation that’s listed for sale in the historic Dunleath neighborhood.

Working in her studio, Rachel is often surrounded by meowing muses: two or four cats. She owns two fur babies and shares custody of two more with her parents. They — the cats — love to nap in her studio’s deep window sill, another bonus of straw-bale construction.

“These are great windows for cats,” says Rachel, who is both pro-cat and pro-bird. She has dotted her Anderson windows — Amanda uses only new windows in her construction — with stickers to keep the birds from slamming into the energy-efficient panes.

Off the studio, a full bath is another study in economy and style.

A vessel sink sits atop a dry-sink cabinet that Rachel found at Milltown 87. The handsome navy and gold wallpaper — featuring, of course, bowerbirds — came from Spoonflower, a Durham-based custom printer of fabrics and wallpapers. The mirror came from Facebook Marketplace. Ditto the bronze-and-caramel colored floor tile. The floor is heated from underneath, another touch that feels like an indulgence to Rachel.

“The adobe floor can be pretty cool in the winter, so it’s nice to step into the bathroom and feel like, ‘Oh yes!’” she says.

The bedroom holds more beautifully practical flourishes: An arched inset in the wall functions as an adobe headboard for a queen mattress, which fits easily into the room, thanks to the recess. Wall sconces flank the arch.

The room has a laundry nook, too, meaning that, for the first time in her adult life, Rachel claims a washer and dryer of her own.

“This is a game changer,” she says, recalling experiences with basement laundry rooms and other tenants’ clothes left in washers and dryers.

Her new combination unit washes and dries clothes in the same tub. The ventless dryer dehumidifies clothes and drains away the water, which saves energy and extends the life of the clothes.

Thanks to many electricity-sipping decisions, the home earned a tax-saving Energy Star certification for Amanda. Rachel is eligible for electric company rebates.

Amanda throws out R-values, which are insulation ratings, to describe just how energy-efficient The Bower is. The higher the R-value, the better.

The Bower’s straw-bale walls are rated at R-30; codes for conventional homes call for R-15.

The attic, which is blanketed with blown-in cellulose insulation, is rated at R-49. The code for regular homes is R-38.

Already, The Bower is flexing its ability to save energy, therefore money. Rachel says the family’s power bill for November 2025 — her home is tied to her parents’ electrical system — was less for two homes than it was for just her parents’ home when she was living there in November 2024.

No solar panels power The Bower, but the home’s orientation, which squares with the Earth’s cardinal directions, makes the home a passive-solar structure.

Most of the windows face south. In the summer, the windows are sheltered by an overhang that provides shade. In the winter, when the sun’s arc is lower, its rays penetrate the windows and warm the interior walls.

The home’s exterior walls are Earth friendly in their own way.

Amanda’s crew used propane torches to scorch the spruce plank siding, then they painted the burned surface with warm linseed oil. The charring method, known as Sho Sugi Ban, is a traditional Japanese method of protecting wood from insects and fire.

The dark boards, coupled with The Bower’s white roof and yellow door, make for an eye-popping modernist home.

Rachel’s family and friends love it, inside and out. Her parents tease her about trading places.

Some of her friends say they’d love to build something similar.

Rachel says only a few of her friends are homeowners, and she never thought she’d have her own place, much less one that captures her artistic, financial and ethical values so well. Building a straw-bale home — for about the same cost as a conventional home of the same size — with access to a large garden space and her mother’s fresh-baked cookies and focaccia, feels like a dream come true.

“To have a home — I didn’t even know that was possible,” she says. “The first couple of months being here, I thought, ‘I don’t know if this is real. It feels too good.’”

Brake for Estate Sales

BRAKE FOR ESTATE SALES

Brake for Estate Sales

More than a junking junket

By Cynthia Adams • Photographs by Amy Freeman

Garage sales are familiar ground — few rules and no commitment. Slow the car, rubberneck, and cruise on past if you notice more trash than treasures. Estate sales, however, are a different matter altogether.

Catnip, too, for admirers of antiques, collectibles and all things vintage. “There is a whole community,” says Sarah Ferrell, owner of Working Decor. “A community of shoppers! A big friend group.”

But what about those of us on the outside looking in, those who love the quirky and fascinating pre-used and well-loved items? Perhaps you’ve seen signs for an estate sale at an intriguing home and wanted to join the line of antique hunters, but felt out of your league.

Ferrell says not to worry. You don’t need deep pockets, nor even a driving reason, to steer your car straight towards a sale. Allow Ferrell’s considerable experience to guide you.

Don’t be intimidated. “People who hold estate sales are thrilled to see people coming through the door,” she reminds us. A good estate sale can refine your eye. Or at least, entertain.

Southerners lean towards the look of collected homes, writes Patricia Shannon in Southern Living. Plus, sales give us license to be snoopy. “Southerners, as a whole, are big fans of any kind of sale that sees us sifting through someone else’s personal belongings.”

Ferrell grew up “with people who went flea marketing or antiquing. It is in our culture to go junking.” She muses, “I really think it’s a very Southern thing.”

Prepare. Often, virtual previews of the estate’s offerings let you prescreen items of interest. Know before you go by checking estatesales.net, says Ferrell. Entering a zip code reveals upcoming sales with much of the inventory. “You can see pictures. And get a clear idea of what you want to do for the day.”

She speaks from experience that finds can surface in unlikely places. Antiquing in Ferrell’s family remains a professional calling.

For years, Ferrell’s father, Gene Crowder, and his late brother, Bill, helmed Crowder Designs, a Triad design business. Clients relied upon their instincts.

“They definitely had a huge stash of antiques to sell to clients,” recalls Ferrell. Gene has sustained a following for his antique chandelier and lighting restoration business, which continued after his brother died in 2021. Later, she spent eight years at a traditional estate sale company, where she learned to organize, evaluate and sell. Called in to assist after the death of a prominent community figure six years ago, Ferrell undertook her first solo liquidation, and Working Decor was born.

Very often, she now goes directly to collectors in her database, rather than holding a public sale.

Be mindful of the rules, as they can vary by estate sale. The stated rules are typically on the company’s website or at the entry point. Register upon arrival, as numbers are often issued before admittance, and hold your place in line. People who shop for businesses, or “pickers,” are commonplace, but so are casual collectors.

There’s a reason for the adage, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” Oddities at sales may shock, excite, or entertain. But Ferrell empathizes with families selling loved ones’ possessions. “Things should be dispersed in a mindful way.”

Do not rush the door or line. There is a protocol, says Martha Stewart Living’s “9 Tips for Estate Sales,” which published last summer. Writer Wendy Rose Gould stresses that estate sales occur in the previous owner’s home. Be respectful, she says.

Don’t hesitate to look in other towns and cities. Larry Richardson, a close friend of the Ferrells, often rises predawn in search of treasures, most recently schlepping all the way to Charlotte’s affluent Myers Park. He seconds Gould: “It’s so helpful if everyone honors the process.”

He has scored vintage Louis Vuitton luggage and even a garaged Mercedes in like-new condition.

Educate and focus your eye. “I think original artwork is timeless,” Ferrell says. But focus on a niche. She often buys colorful art books.

Ferrell is still amazed by the wide variety of things people amass. (She mentions her own affection for vintage medical objects, including a physician’s cabinet and a skull used in teaching dentistry.) She repurposed the workbench to use as a table.

“I have such eclectic tastes,” Ferrell admits. But she knows exactly what she likes. When she sees rare, chunky pieces of glass art, her heart beats faster. Ditto for all things green, she says, with favorite pieces of their personal collection in the kitchen.

Think about complementing what you have with affordable finds. “An effortless way to decorate is to look for coffee table books. They are extremely expensive new, but at estate sales, they are cheap. You can look for them by color or style,” she says.

Ferrell also has a soft spot for what she calls “orphaned” chairs from a former set, usually bargain-priced. “Don’t sleep on an orphaned chair!” Mismatched is more visually interesting

Pricing. As for pricing, even estate sale prices may be negotiable. “Sometimes you can negotiate,” says Ferrell. It may be a no, but if you never ask, it is a no. Sometimes, too, “the first day is full price and later days are discounted.” Cash does not always rule, but it may help secure a deal.

Be realistic about whether you have room for the acquisition. “If I bring something in . . . something goes out.” Unless it is something rare, which, in her collector’s parlance, is a “unicorn.”

For Ferrell, it was a green glass chandelier (which she recognized from when it appeared in this magazine in July 2024). Sold to the homeowner by her father, it recently resurfaced at Carriage House, a local antique store. Ferrell found the coveted (albeit broken) light once again, restoring it with her father’s help.

With persistence, “You can find that one unicorn piece you’ve been looking for.”

Appearances can deceive. “Don’t underestimate a sale by the way a house looks on the outside,” Ferrell advises. “I found some wonderful, rare things in an unexpected house. Sometimes you find a treasure.” Do not overlook the garage and outbuildings.

“One of my most prized finds is an old wooden workbench complete with splashes of paint and hammer marks.”

Don’t be reluctant just to browse around. However, don’t shun the occasional “reality check,” offers Ferrell. It is valuable to see prevailing prices. Professional estate sales can help shoppers “become more realistic about what their [own] items are worth.”

Estate sales are opportunities to upcycle items that might otherwise wind up in the landfill. “People don’t think about the sustainability aspect with an estate sale,” Ferrell adds, noting the ever-cyclical nature of tastes. “You can get the 1950s version versus the reproduction.”

Find your tribe. Ferrell enjoys that estate sales unify many for a shared experience and “bring together the most widely eclectic people . . . all in different fields.” Here, she has made friends and connections.

She points out yet another reason to be an estate sale goer, even if you leave empty-handed. At estate sales, you glimpse the inner worlds of fellow collectors. “It’s a wonderful way to see some wonderful homes,” says Ferrell.

Go forth confidently in the direction of the estate sale sign’s arrows. You may just find your unicorn.

The Trend Cycle — and Upcycle

Among those who never fail to hit the brakes for an estate sale? Then you are possibly a reseller or someone passionate about upcycling, says the former owner of a vintage store.

Long-time estate sale fans like Kevin and Kim Gunther report that reselling helps tame their collecting addiction. It also allows them to indulge in one of their favorite pastimes, that age-old thrill of the hunt.

Part-time resellers with full-time jobs, the Gunthers completely understand the impulse to scrutinize every sale and hit the road. For some years, they have spent their free time seeking inventory for three antique booths (at Blue Horseshoe in Ramseur, Blue Octopus in Eden and Main St. Market & Gallery in Randleman). Estate sales are their prime hunting ground.

They happily report that their first date was at an auction.

“Cheap date,” they say in unison. “Free popcorn and cheap Cokes!” Later, as a married couple, the tradition continues. They remain passionate about each other and their favorite shared hobby. Kevin admits they recently “hit an estate sale on our way out of town to go celebrate our anniversary.”

They’ve figured out a way to monetize their, well, mutual addiction, while spending scarce free time together.

He is fixated on sourcing vintage records.

“I only buy what I like, hoping other people will like it, too. I have tunnel vision,” he says.

Kim looks elsewhere. “I love furniture. Primitive. A certain look. If it is 100 or 50 years old, that does not matter to me. I buy the look.” She searches for shelves and hutches, which are practical. “People who collect need places to show off their treasures.”

Of course, not everything on offer excites. It may not hit the mark or look current. Trends are meant to be broken — and will be. So don’t discount a special find if it bucks current trends, Sarah Ferrell suggests. Once disparaged as “brown furniture,” unpainted pieces in original condition are back in style.

“Oh, it’s coming back,” Ferrell declares. “Which thrills me to death . . . I am tired of people painting things, especially pretty pieces that should not be.”

Having logged many estate sales miles in their pursuits, the Gunthers have lugged home many acquisitions, sometimes those that counter trends.

The Gunthers agree with Ferrell. Given time, the trend will turn in your favor, they predict, and that is the beauty of upcycling at work.

2026 Brake for Estate Sales Feature

Poem April 2026

POEM

2026 Feature Poem

Beat By Beat

BEAT BY BEAT

Beat By Beat

Greensboro’s newest poet laureate aims to build bridges

By Cassie Bustamante • Portraits by Liz Nemeth

“I didn’t really start off wanting to be a poet,” says Greensboro’s newest poet laureate, James Daniels. “I always wanted to be a rapper.”

But, says Daniels, “I had a Dead Poets Society moment.” That was while he was attending Johnston County Early College Academy. Just like the students in the film who were inspired by their professor (played by Robin Williams), Daniels remembers how a couple of his own teachers, Amanda Rowland and Dawn Blankenship, kindled the spark that ignited his love of poetry. They introduced him to Poetry Out Loud, a high school poetry recitation competition. And though his gut reaction was a big heck no, “I took the leap.” And, turns out, the spoken word spoke to him.

As he listened to poets and poetry, he recalls, “I started to absorb the power of the word — just understanding that there are so many different mediums it could go in. So I just started trying all of them and poetry was the one that stuck.”

Later, at N.C. State, where he was earning a B.S. in education, he discovered open mics, where anyone, from beginners to pros, can step up on a stage and share whatever is in their hearts and minds. Greensboro’s inaugural poet laureate, Josephus III, visited the campus, leading a Poetry Cafe session (an interactive open-mic event). “I went up and, of course, embarrassed myself on that mic, too. You know, you got to step out.”

Daniels got even more involved with Poetry Cafe while working on his M.F.A. at UNCG. At first, he says, he was “a table boy, bringing people in.” But soon Josephus was asking Daniels to teach at events for kids when he wasn’t available to do it himself.

When it came time for his two-year term as poet laureate to come to an end, Josephus III reached out to Daniels, who notes, “a bunch of dope poets in the city also got that call.”

At the time, Daniels was deep in the application process of another position — assistant professor and director of creative writing at N.C. A&T — which he soon landed. Thinking it might be too much to take it all on, he made calls to other poets, suggesting they go for it. But one question kept bouncing back to him: “You’re applying, too, right?”

His response? Of course, he told them, even though that wasn’t his intention. “But I was like, I can’t lie to 20 people,” he says. “Now you said it, so now you’re doing it.” He sat down and got to work on his own application after all.

He ran it by his most trusted critic, his wife of three years, Ajani Anderson, who “tore it up.” Through some tough love from Anderson, a visual artist who Daniels says “makes me better everywhere,” the application was ready to submit.

Loving metaphors as all poets do, Daniels is constantly talking about building bridges “between creatives, institutions and other artistic mediums — through the power of poetry.” A bridge, of course, is the sum of many trusses and supports. Daniels envisions a city where organizations and creative people across multiple genres reach out to each other collaboratively. One man cannot bear the load on his own, but he hopes to continue building on the foundation Josephus has laid.

“I’m grateful for this position. I’m grateful for all of the positions that I’ve received thus far,” he says. But don’t for a second think that he’s given up on his initial dream of becoming a rapper: “That’s still a goal,” he says. OH

The following poems are by James Daniels.

2026 Beat By Beat Feature

Sanctuary

SANCTUARY

Sanctuary

A Kernersville gardener creates a native plant refuge

By Ross Howell Jr. • Photographs by Lynn Donovan

Ever heard of a plant rescue?

Me neither.

Not until Kelly Gage toured me around her woodland garden.

Gage grew up on a tobacco farm in Davidson County, where her grandmother and mother were avid garden club members. After earning a degree in biology at UNCG, Gage took a job as an environmental manager for Guilford County, working with geologists and engineers to enforce surface-water and groundwater regulations.

For more than 20 years, Gage and her husband, Bobby, had lived in the same house where she had, of course, designed and maintained all the landscaping. Fourteen years ago, they decided to build a new home.

The couple selected a 6-acre wooded site outside Kernersville that had been left untended for 75 years and was overgrown with poison ivy, Chinese viburnum, privet and Japanese stilt grass.

One of the first decisions the Gages had to consider was where to build on the property. They decided to remove a patch of loblolly pine trees and site the house there.

“That really opened up space,” Gage says.

And that’s where we’re standing, in dappled sunlight at the edge of a broad planting bed in front of the house. The trees resound with birdsong.

“At first, we had a lot of sun, but now we have a lot of shade,” Gage muses. With the pines removed, overstory trees such as oaks, maples, poplar and beech have flourished, along with understory trees such as redbud, dogwood, sassafras and sourwood.

She points out a tree with shimmering, green leaves.

“That’s an umbrella magnolia,” Gage says. “It has the second-largest leaf in the magnolia family.” Over time, she’s found many of these natives on the property.

“This one just happened to be close to the house,” she continues. “It’s just the loveliest tree.”

Gage’s voice is calm and measured. It reminds me of one of my favorite elementary school teachers. As she describes the magnolia, you hear inflections of admiration and affection in her voice.

She’s discovered many other indigenous plants that had been overgrown or suppressed altogether, including swaths of columbine, creeping phlox and at least five different species of native fern.

“Once you disturb the soil, some of the seeds and spores that have been lying dormant start to show up,” she says. “Management makes a real difference in woodland areas.”

“I’ve always liked plants,” Gage continues. “But I got really interested in natives when we were settling into this property, trying to understand how to manage the invasive, non-native plants here.”

In 2018, Gage joined the North Carolina Native Plant Society (NCNPS), which is celebrating its 75th anniversary this year. Through education, conservation and advocacy, the organization works to protect native plants throughout the state.

“The members of the society are very generous people,” Gage says. “We do a lot of seed swapping and plant trading.” And they share a deep well of knowledge and experience.

Since 2023, Gage has served on the NCNPS executive board as membership chairman, recruiting new members, developing new chapters (there are currently 11 across the state) and producing educational materials.

On her property, she has cataloged more than 700 different species of plants, shrubs and trees, and estimates that about 600 of them are natives.

As we begin to stroll, Gage points out and names the plants, sometimes by the Latin name, sometimes by the common. The names flow from her lips like a familiar melody.

“Anemone, Phlox subulata . . . autumn fern, sensitive fern, Christmas fern, hosta . . . Monarda . . . Alternanthera, Baptisia . . . mountain mint, Solidago, Rudbeckia Henry Eilers . . .” she intones.

Gage tells me that she sometimes mixes hellebores among natives because they deter the deer. She’ll plant daffodils for the same reason.

Though some native plant purists might object, she enjoys introducing exotics like the pineapple lily, native to South Africa.

“I love them,” Gage says. “They’re really cool plants.” They produce bract clusters crowned with foliage that look like tiny pineapples.

“And here is my native amethyst falls wisteria,” she says. “It was beautiful last week. Coming up under that is native Clematis viorna.”

Gage explains that she prefers bedding her plants.

“People who are first learning about native plants tend to think only about meadow settings,” she says. “But meadows are hard to maintain,” Gage adds. “Organized beds are easier to control. And your homeowners’ association won’t be after you,” she says with a laugh.

As we walk, Gage points out more plant types. Then she pauses.

“That’s Amsonia hubrichtii, which has just finished blooming,” she says. “It has this gorgeous, golden-yellow foliage in the fall.”

“Growing next to it is silverrod,” Gage continues. “It’s a variety of goldenrod that’s white. It’s lovely. I got it on a plant rescue.”

“What’s a plant rescue?” I ask.

Ah, the perfect question for the NCNPS board member responsible for membership.

Plant rescues, as it turns out, represent an important society activity.

Following clear protocols, a long-time NCNPS member who specializes in rescues works out agreements on the society’s behalf with owners, engineers and builders to gain access to land slated for development. Some tracts span thousands of acres that will be built on over decades, while others are relatively small. Entities prefer working with the NCNPS because their rescue efforts are covered by insurance.

Properties are photographed and clearly marked by surveyors. Accompanied by experts to help with plant identification, a rescue team of about 15 volunteers collects native plants that will go to botanical gardens, art museums, school and community gardens, as well as to the properties of volunteers.

“The only rule is that none of the rescued plants can be resold,” Gage says.

Do volunteers need big gardens to provide sanctuary for the rescues?

“The typical volunteer takes plants home to a quarter-acre neighborhood lot,” Gage answers.

As we continue our tour, we come upon a couple of my boyhood favorites — jack-in-the-pulpits and trilliums.

Jack-in-the-pulpits are perennial natives that reproduce vegetatively by sprouts from their corms or sexually by their spadix (Jack) and spathe (pulpit), yielding bright-red berries in the fall. Plants can be male, female or both, and can change sexes season to season. The trained eye can detect the plant’s sex by the number of leaflets it produces.

As for the trilliums, Gage has at least half a dozen varieties.

“I purchased most of them at UNC Charlotte Botanical Gardens sales,” she says. Others were gifted to her by friends.

“If you’re going to grow trilliums, you better have time,” Gage cautions. “It takes about seven years for them to get established.”

As we continue to walk, she points out blue wood asters, white wood asters, mayapples and another plant that came to her garden as a rescue — dittany.

“It’s a neat little subshrub that has these beautiful, tiny pink blooms,” Gage says. “It likes really dry soil.”

Growing in a shaded bed are yellowroot, wood poppy, glade mallow, wild ginger and phacelia. In a moist area at woods’ edge is a group of taller plants.

“Now these, I just pull out in handfuls,” Gage says. “There are always so many!”

Carolina impatiens — often called jewelweed — is an annual that produces prodigious amounts of seed. Deer love to eat them and they have medicinal value, as well.

“Occasionally, we have gentlemen who cut firewood come by and ask if they can have some of the impatiens,” Gage says. “Apparently, the fluid in the stems will prevent poison oak or cure a case of it.”

We start to head back toward the house. She continues to point out plants along the way.

“Joe Pye weed . . . rattlesnake fern . . . bear’s breeches . . . that’s partridge berry over there — it came from a rescue,” she continues.

“And this is native star hibiscus coming up,” Gage says. She pauses and smiles. “Everybody thinks it’s marijuana!”

Close by the path is a plant with paired leaves shaped like butterfly wings.

“That’s twinleaf,” Gage says. “I just love this plant. It has little white flowers.”

Finally, we pause next to a tree with a wonderful name.

“This is a Carolina silverbell tree,” Gage announces. “In spring, it has gorgeous, papery white flowers. This is my favorite tree.”

When I ask Gage about the future of her sanctuary garden, she smiles.

“Well, we’re in the process of buying 4 more acres from a neighbor, so we’ll have 10 acres,” Gage says.

“The new property is loaded with poison ivy,” she continues. “Some of the vines are as thick as your forearm. And I’m allergic!”

Gage acknowledges that she’ll probably have a half-acre cleared professionally before she starts gardening there.

She hopes one day to have created a sanctuary similar to the Emily Allen Wildflower Preserve in Winston-Salem.

“Our long-term vision is to stay on this land as long as we are physically able,” Gage says. “But we look forward to having the property serve an educational purpose one day.”

For now, she’ll keep tending to her acreage and adding more North Carolina native plants, one rescue at a time.

2026 Feature Sanctuary

Feast Your Eyes

FEAST YOUR EYES

Feast Your Eyes

Lettering artist Marley Soden serves up food for font

By Cassie Bustamante • Portraits by Amy Freeman

Mustard, spices, jam, cookie crumbs, sprinkles, honey, espresso powder, candy corn. Not necessarily ingredients you want in the same dish, but, for Marley Soden, they’re main ingredients in her recipe for creativity. On TikTok (marley.makes.things), where she dishes out a vibrant and colorful feast for the eyes, she describes herself as a “Letterer, Muralist, & Food Artist.” Sometimes sweet, sometimes nutty and sometimes spicy, this tactile artist has got something to say.

Scrolling through her posts, you’ll spy a lemon meringue tart on a bright-yellow backdrop with a whisk and lemons, the words “Easy Peasy” spelled out in meringue plus lemon curd accents. Or picture a breakfast scene, complete with golden bagels, a dusting of flour, an open tub of cream cheese and a smeared butter knife with the words “You Are My” written in flour. Then, to one side, the word “Everything” is spelled (and spills) out from a jar of Trader Joe’s Everything But the Bagel Sesame Seasoning Blend. And that’s just a small sampling to whet the appetite.

Has she always played with food? “Growing up, I was artsy, for sure,” says the 31-year-old Greensboro native. “But in middle school and high school, I was more into the music scene.” In fact, Soden graduated from downtown’s Weaver Academy in 2012, where she focused on music production. But, when she arrived at UNCG as a freshman, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to study. She hopped from English major to media studies major, but still felt unsettled.

On a whim, Soden made a leap into design. “I didn’t think it through whatsoever. And, thank God, it just kind of worked out and I really liked it.” The design aspect, however, came much later in her studies — after drawing, sculpting and other “really basic bare-bones stuff.” Little by little, she discovered she had a real love and knack for lettering, a small niche in the graphic design world.

After graduating in 2016 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in New Media and Design, Soden was hired as a graphic designer locally for Pace Communications. She discovered that she was not made for office life, but, she says, she’s “so, so grateful for those years because it taught me so much about how to work with companies and how social media in general works.” After freelancing a bit on the side, she decided to bet on herself, going all-in on being self-employed.

Soden anticipated more freelance branding work, and that’s exactly what she did during that first year on her own. In the meantime, she’d post her creative work on Instagram. And, in December 2019, she posted her first video to TikTok, which, at the time, allowed a little bit of a longer video format than Instagram. In 2020, thanks to COVID, which found more and more people engaging with others through social media, TikTok really exploded on to the scene. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” says Soden, “and a lot of my art videos took off.”

The result? “I pivoted from doing branding and logo design to doing more DIY content and educational art content online.” Think YouTube tutorials, but shorter. “I’m just not great at long-form content. Short form is where I really hit my stride and I’m great at telling stories quickly.” Which, it seems, is not something everyone can do as well as she does. And something increasingly in demand. The proof is in the pudding: Almost 550,000 followers agree, eating her content right up. Plus, Soden notes, as an introvert, finding community online suited her just fine — she found unexpected joy in teaching. “In a perfect world, that’s what I’ll do forever,” she muses.

While most of her social media following is similarly aged to Soden, she says those who actually engage with her on her posts are often Boomers. “I love those people for it. Yes, always comment because it makes my day,” she quips with a grin.

As for Gen Z? The word “depersonalization” is what comes to mind in describing their interactions on her posts. “When they do comment, they’re not commenting to me. They’re commenting to other commenters.” Instead of talking to Soden, “They’ll talk about ‘her.’ And I’m like, ‘Her?’ Me?”

Nonetheless, her vibrant, eye-catching and whimsical posts get people talking. This English-major-turned-design-major puts her love for wordplay to use regularly. “The fun thing about lettering in general is that you can really inject your personality into it, and you can quite literally say what you want to say through it, through your art.” A favorite video of her own features “Pop It Like It’s Hot,” the first two words spelled in popcorn kernels and the last word in spicy seasoning. And, of course, the song it’s paired with: Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” To celebrate the one year mark of being self-employed, she spelled out “one” in rainbow sprinkles.

“I won’t pretend to have invented it,” says Soden of food lettering. Detroit-based illustrator Lauren Hom (Hom Sweet Hom) served as big inspiration for her from the beginning, but, Soden notes, “from there, my style just took on a life of its own.”

Thanks to Soden’s instinctive talent for connecting with her social media audience through creating quirky, whimsical art, brand deals started rolling in. She’s worked with companies such as Owala, Adobe, Michaels Stores, Café Appliances, Shake Shack, Digiornio, Russell Stover and Aerie. On her wish list? Twizzlers, Starburst or Skittles. “Anything that’s really bright and colorful and interesting texturally would be fun.”

Even though brand deals provide her with income, it’s the making — and teaching how to make — art that fills her cup. For instance, Soden brought many of her passions together in one project when she created an entire series based on podcasts — “I love food, and I love music, and I love podcasts.” For Armchair Expert, cherries and pistachios were used to create a story, with crushed pistachios spelling out the title. In that Instagram post, Soden writes that she chose cherry because: “get it? chairy?” In another post, Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend is written in apricot preserves and surrounded by scattering of almonds as well as apricot-and-almond buns (“because that hair is iconic”) and almonds.

Liquid, she notes, is especially hard to work with but produces a silky look she can’t get enough of. “The letters want to morph together,” notes Soden, so time is of the essence. And, the moment you start a project with any kind of liquid or sticky food, there’s no going back. “Once it’s down, it’s down for sure. Ask my countertops.”

To cut down on waste, every work of tactile art she creates has to have a meticulous plan, beginning with a sketch. Or, if she’s working with a client, a series of sketches. That’s followed by making stencils and, lastly, she’s ready to move on to making — and shooting — the final product. The outcome generally reflects her signature style, which she refers to as “organized chaos.”

In the end, from a creative arrangement of plates and “things toppled over,” order arises, with artist-to-the-beholder communication emerging.

Is it something AI could reproduce? Maybe, but Soden notes that there’s something lacking in AI. Sure, these days “it’s looking more and more realistic. Realistic isn’t necessarily good. I’m still missing that little piece of soul within it that you can’t really get from anything other than a real person.”

Any artist, of course, loves to explore on various mediums, from digitally in iPad screens all the way to broad-brush work on walls. You just may have spied Soden’s Mural work locally in Local Honey Salon, the former Borough Market & Bar, King’s BBQ in Archdale, Lash & Blade in Winston-Salem and Inkvictus Studios in Raleigh.

In fact, Soden’s most popular TikTok video, viewed 7.2 million times and growing, has nothing to do with lettering. Instead, in under one minute, she teaches viewers how to paint the perfect arch on their wall, ending by telling them, “Follow me for more artsy-fartsy stuff.”

Over the past six years as she’s experienced explosive growth on social media, the platforms themselves have evolved and changed. TikTok, for example, now allows for 10-minute videos. Plus, the algorithm itself changes constantly, treating its content creators to a virtual roller coaster ride. One day, your video could garner 100,000 views. The next, 3,000. “You just have to ride the wave and keep putting stuff out.”

Soden’s life behind the grid has changed, too. In 2021, she married Zach Hunt, a logistics analytics manager for Ralph Lauren, and, a couple years later, they welcomed a son. Soden anticipated that after just a short time off, she’d be working at home, baby by her side. “I had this naive idea in my head that I’m a freelancer, I can do both,” she muses. “I can watch my kid and, while he’s sleeping, then I’ll do some work.” Turns out, juggling that schedule “on top of just healing in general, learning to be a mom and having a serious sleep deprivation” was utterly exhausting. Soden found herself backing off work.

“The thing that people don’t think about when women take time off for maternity leave is that you’re not only sacrificing your income,” says Soden, “but you’re sacrificing that time that you would have spent advancing in your career.” Plus, being home with a baby and away from colleagues can, as any parent who has done it could tell you, feel lonely. After their son’s first birthday, she and Zach made the decision to put him in daycare so that she could have the time “to work and continue exploring.” Still, some days, she asks herself, “Am I doing the right thing?”

Parenting aside, stepping back onto the career path comes with its own challenges. “While you’ve pressed the pause button, you come back and everything is different,” she says. “The real world doesn’t wait for you.”

Indeed, there were no new freelance jobs, she admits, waiting for her to once again press play. So, even though Soden is adept, brilliant actually, at communicating via social media, she’s changing her approach, focusing on growing her business locally, weaving herself into Greensboro’s cultural fabric. Still, she says, “I would love to continue in social media in some way without it being my primary source of income.” The next step? Perhaps selling her art — from prints to possibly even coloring books — locally. “In general, I think people are seeking community right now because we’re all so isolated,” she says. A local presence just might be what helps her expand her net of communication, but her hope is she can regain a healthy foothold in social media once again.

On her plate currently, she’s scheming and dreaming about a just-for-fun Harry Styles-themed piece based on the song “Golden” and inspired by her toddler. “My son is his number one fan.” So far, her plans include “golden pancakes and golden syrup spelling out ‘You’re so golden’ on a big, yellow background.”

Artist. Foodie. Muralist. Letterer. It’s obvious that Soden’s creative juices will keep on spilling and spelling out — onto pancakes, onto screens, onto paper, onto walls and into the hungry hearts and minds of her community.

2026 Feast Your Eyes Feature

The Preservationist and the Painter

THE PRESERVATIONIST AND THE PAINTER

The Preservationist and the Painter

A marriage of opposites dances in the light on Magnolia

By Cynthia Adams

Photographs by John gessner

Preservationist Mike Cowhig was a longtime bachelor in his 50s living on Eugene Street in a Craftsman-style home when he met his wife, artist Denise Landi. He worked excessively, golfed occasionally and sometimes, she jokes, “held up the wall” at the original Rhino Club downtown, which recently reopened.

Formerly married with two young girls and a boy, Landi studied art history at Carolina. Over a 40-year career, she has dramatically incorporated her personal history, memories and fragments of dreams into paintings.

Art was a consuming passion for her; community planning, history and preservation were his.

The couple dated for two years before deciding to marry but were torn between her recently acquired house on Magnolia and Cowhig’s bachelor bungalow.

Magnolia Street won. His impression when he first toured the house? Smitten.

“I love this house,” admits Cowhig, a longtime community planner for the City of Greensboro.

“I’m glad we decided here,” he adds, “although I loved the house on Eugene.”

They were married in the backyard of the house in 2004, a year after Landi purchased the Colonial Revival. Neighbor Nicole Crews hosted a wedding reception, and the celebration continued afterward at local hangout Fishers Grille. (A gate in her back fence, Cowhig explains, then conveniently opened to the backside of the bar.)

The wedding party and guests merrily trooped through the house, out the gate and into Fishers, he remembers. The bride hired a new local band called Beaconwood for the occasion.

“Beaconwood played bluegrass and other types of music and were fantastic!” Cowhig adds. Fast forward 15 years after their raucous musical wedding party at Fishers Grille.

“Steve Robertson, a local attorney, moved into a house on Leftwich Street very close by,” says Cowhig. His son Eric Robertson founded Beaconwood while in high school. Their members now played on a world stage with artists like Rhiannon Giddens and Steve Martin.

If Beaconwood set the tone for a mellow relationship, not every note played smoothly in the early phases of marriage. Initially, while planning an addition to the rear of the two-story clapboard back on Magnolia, the new family of five squeezed into Cowhig’s bachelor pad at 923 N. Eugene St., the three young children “bunking in one room.” It was a madcap jumble of Barbies and G. I. Joes. Landi’s youngest daughter was still a toddler.

“I think he fell in love with my kids. And he liked me, too, you know?” Landi says with a twinkle.

“Our contractor did that thing where they get close to completion and then they move on,” Cowhig recalls. “Denise read them the Riot Act. I was glad — she had every right. She let them know she was not happy.” After that, the addition came together.

Cowhig was naturally interested in the particulars, being a walking compendium of Greensboro’s original neighborhoods. Living in Fisher Park, designated as a historic district in 1982, was a form of work immersion for Cowhig.

Early in his professional life, he assisted in gathering supportive evidence for the district, inventorying the neighborhood’s original layout and structures. Cowhig worked on the creation of Greensboro’s three historic districts, now including Dunleath and College Hill.

Consider the context: When the Schoonover house was built, Fisher Park was evolving as Greensboro’s first suburb, featuring a variety of architectural styles and opulent mansions on a section of North Elm Street dubbed the “gold coast.” Iconic churches nearby — Holy Trinity Episcopal (built in 1922), the imposing gothic First Presbyterian (built in 1928) and Temple Emanuel (built in 1922) — all sprang up in that period.

But even an expert can be thrown off by clues contained within an old house. Just how old was it?

He discovered a piece of children’s homework dated 1912 “so I assumed it was built around 1911–12.” But further research placed the house as being built later, in 1921, for physician Robert A. Schoonover. So much for circumstantial evidence. The doctor kept an office nearby on South Elm Street, mentioned in the 1925 edition of Hill’s Greensboro Directory.

As pleasant as the attributes of a century-old home may be — nicely sized rooms, original windows and two working fireplaces — the historic record matters less than evidence of a family thriving here.

Their children’s heights are not just marked but colorfully illustrated (by the hand of a painter mother) inside a doorway into the kitchen. Cowhig and Landi planted roots in a neighborhood, not merely a house. A walkable, convivial area where neighbors know their neighbors.

Fred Rogers would have been pleased.

Whereas Cowhig is a man of measured speech and action, the woman of the house is a dynamo of color and vitality.

She laces a hot coffee with creamer and immediately takes a bold drink — no cautious sipping first. Landi bristles with energy even without caffeine but pauses long enough to enjoy her coffee in a kitchen shot full of life and light. An adjacent butler’s pantry with original cabinetry creates a conduit to the dining room.

As you might expect in the home of an artist, furnishings and clutter are deliberately edited to allow artwork to take center stage.

Generous molding, handsome mantels, built-in bookcases (which they supplemented with more during the building of the addition) and French doors separating the living room, den and the dining room up the charm factor. With ample wall space painted in pale tones, Landi’s art serves as the chief source of color — she is a prodigious artist who sometimes produces multiple works in a single week. Their home is a perfect showcase for it.

After ridding the house of aluminum siding long ago, its original, albeit in need of a refresh, beauty emerged.

Tax credits were instrumental in being able to afford a historically accurate rehabilitation: “We used North Carolina historic tax credits, which was 30% at that time,” Cowhig recalls. “That credit really made the difference for us.” Once the siding was banished, Landi chose new exterior colors, bolder than the original white found beneath the siding.

“It’s a house that was built without a front portico, [but] which has a nice classical roof and columns, and a nice, screened side porch,” Cowhig says.

Landi again mentions that every room has good light, something deeply valued by one whose work depends upon it.

Given her artistic focus, it is surprising that it was not her original career plan. “I was going to Carolina intending to become a journalist” before that notion ground to a halt once there. “I couldn’t type,” she says with a rueful shake of her head.

“I never learned to type!” she repeats with incredulity. Her mother, who studied fashion at Parsons School of Design in New York, strongly discouraged her daughter from wasting time on pedestrian skills.

Landi changed her major to art history. Following her degree, she began seriously studying painting. She completed an M.F.A. in Florence, Italy, at the Dominican University, devoting two years to the Italian Renaissance.

Initially, the idea of becoming an artist seemed “just too easy.”

“My very first words were ‘pretty light.’ I did not say mama, hi, daddy, anything. And it was at my grandmother’s chandelier,” says Landi. No coincidence, then, that her first show at The Marshall Muse Gallery this year was titled “Categories of Light”.

Landi’s largest work there? Chandelier (Southern Lights).

The inspiration for that painting is the dining room’s Italian chandelier, which features a light-refracting, antique, Venetian mirror found at Carriage House.

On the same brusque, wintry morning that Landi meets to discuss the house, Cowhig pops over to his old office in City Hall where he began working in 1975. He is technically retired yet still putting in a few hours weekly with a South Benbow project. In fact, he shared recognition with two others for a Voices of the City Award last November for contributions to that work.

Bert VanderVeen, a volunteer member of the Historic Preservation Commission, or HPC, first met Cowhig 25 years ago.

“What do you say about Mike, who is and does so much?” asks VanderVeen. “One of my first calls in 2001 was to the city planning department when I bought a historic house in Dunleath and needed a COA [certificate of appropriateness] to make repairs.”

VanderVeen has seen firsthand how Cowhig works tirelessly to bring about preservation, as in the case of the newly developing South Benbow district, the first of its designation in the state. “He can shepherd you to a solution. One thing that struck me on the commission was that even when we did not agree completely, Mike would get us there.”

When historic buildings could not be saved, Cowhig advocated for an architectural salvage program benefiting Blandwood, the historic Governor Moorehead mansion. He rallied and worked alongside volunteers to salvage slate tiles from my own Latham Park home a few years ago.

His retirement is keenly felt.

“I really miss working with Mike both on the Greensboro commission and at Architectural Salvage [ASG],” says Commissioner Katherine Rowe, who lives in Sunset Hills. “Salvage volunteers felt lucky to learn from Mike. He has a deep knowledge of Greensboro’s history and neighborhoods.”

She fondly remembers doing pickups with Mike. “We’d rumble around town in the rattly Architectural Salvage van, picking up six-panel doors in Fisher Park or prying out house parts in an abandoned home way out in the country,” she recalls. “We’d gather doorknobs and butterfly hinges to sell back at ASG.”

He recruited Landi to help with a pickup in his absence. “To her credit, Denise very cheerfully helped me load it in the white van,” says Rowe. “We had never even met!”

“I love history just as much as he does,” Landi adds. “And houses.”

Her aunt lived in a Tarboro antebellum house, one Landi stayed in and admired. She also visited her godparent in Toronto during the summer, whose grand home was furnished with antiques. She mentions granular details right down to the home’s fine marble doorknobs.

Her husband is “a man whose life has been about helping save old houses,” she notes. “I love the way Mike . . .” Landi stops, searching for the right phrase. Then she brushes the air with her hand.

“OK, here is the problem. In the same way that we love them spiritually, sometimes we forget to love them physically.”

She adds meaningfully, “I can be messy.”

Placing her coffee cup on the kitchen table, Landi gesticulates, trying to describe their relationship. Her father was Italian, she explains, so she requires both hands when passionate.

She borrows a visual from something she read of a slow-moving person holding a balloon which pulls him along. “And that’s kind of like me and Mike. Mike keeps me from flying off too far. I can see that.”

Her expressive face opens with a smile. She, in turn, helps to prevent her husband, a quietly sanguine man, from being overly cautious. Even if she might veer and “pull him over the rocks.”

“She’s the real deal when it comes to her artwork,” he says about his wife. “The painting, the artwork is what gives her energy. She will wake up, cannot sleep, and she gets up and starts painting.” The next morning, he finds she has created something remarkable.

Landi spontaneously offers a full tour while searching for a misplaced phone. Wherever the eye lands, there is a point of beauty: a vintage Empire-style dress she recently wore to a Jane Austen birthday celebration hanging in a bedroom, an antique Italian tile hung on the wall like an icon.

“Actually, it is an icon,” she decides.

She scans the foyer, elegantly spare with a center painted table, leading to the side porch where she often works.

When painting outside, she says, “I feel expanded and unfettered. I sometimes put paintings on the fence and go at it.”

Landi then weaves through private rooms downstairs, to the addition at the back, which created office space, bathrooms and bedrooms. Looping back into the original portion of the house, she proceeds upstairs to the bedrooms where she reclaimed a vacated bedroom as a studio.

Scribbled notes and elaborate, artful doodles paper the studio walls.

“This was my son’s room for a long time,” she explains. Her visual process involves prompts from writing, she explains.

“I write a lot and also write things on the wall.” She traces notes made, recalling the vagaries of mind and process.

There is a striking variety of visual approaches: sometimes pastel, ghostly abstractions, sometimes vividly bold black-and-white charcoals. Some of the large-scale, acrylic paintings hung throughout the hallways and rooms of the house are already sold and awaiting shipment.

Landi has shown at the GreenHill Center for NC Art and the Center for Visual Artists. Her figurative paintings hang in permanent collections at Moses Cone Hospital, Schiffman’s Jewelers and Blue Denim restaurant.

Her work has common denominators, she stresses: light and spirit.

Larry Richardson, a family friend for decades, speaks to this.

“Denise does not see the world as you or I do,” he says. “She sees things in spiritual terms.” He describes how her work is sometimes overtly feminine, or dark and masculine.

“She isn’t just painting what she sees,” he explains. “She paints the energy.”

Florence opened Landi’s eyes to a new way of seeing and working. It was, she says, spiritual. “When I would paint scenes, I would paint spirits.”

“There was a small river, and I saw the whole town (of Florence) as a heart. And then I saw that river as . . . this artery.”

Phone found, she returns to the kitchen and produces a vintage family portrait. Her Italian father, with Mediterranean coloring and effusive, ebullient personality, is a contrast to her mother, a serene, ladylike blonde with pale eyes. A woman of great composure.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks. “Like Grace Kelly. A classic, Hitchcock beauty.”

There is no mistaking that Landi’s parents’ union, like her own, was a marriage of complementary opposites.

Cowhig will be home at any time, she expects. He is happiest, Landi notes, when holding the new grandbaby, Wolfie, soon to be a year old.

He is delighted when grandchildren visit, calling out “Michael!” and heading straight to his office, where they find him keeping a hand in historic projects. By his reckoning, Greensboro’s oldest structures are art of a different kind.

She rests the family picture against a colorful, flower-filled pottery vase by a dish of lemons on the rustic table. An instant composition.

One worthy of her hand

2026 Feature The Preservationist and the Painter

Any Way You Slice It

ANY WAY YOU SLICE IT

Any Way You Slice It

Pi Day, you say? We couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than by stuffing ourselves silly with a local sampling.

By David Claude Bailey • Photographs by Amy Freeman

What is it about pies? “I suspect that people feel a sense of tradition and simple goodness when eating pie,” says Maxie B’s owner, Robin Davis, who was featured in a 2012 Southern Living best-cakes-in-the-South article. Robin also knows a little something about pies. Chocolate chess, pecan, coconut custard, coconut cream, chocolate cream, lemon meringue, cherry, blueberry, peach, blackberry, sweet potato, pumpkin — 40 in all, seasonally available. “They are a little lighter than cake since they do not have icing.” Almost healthy, eh?

And then she adds, “Mostly, I think eating pie is just a comforting experience.”

Amen.

Robin is just one of a wealth of seasoned pie-o-neers who have made Greensboro, at least in our view, pie central.

Grab a fork and dig into one of my own favorite comfort foods. We know we’ve missed some of our favorites and your favorites, but there are only so many notches in our belt and these six slices were pushing its limit.

THE PIE HOLE: Maxie B’s

If you’re not able to visit a pâtisserie any time soon, Maxie B’s interior comes pretty close to transporting you à Paris. How many other bakeries feature chandeliers, tufted banquettes, plump, comfy couches and a private, hideaway booth for intimate gatherings? Or, naturellement, snag a seat at the sidewalk café in front and order a café au lait and, of course, a piece of good ol’ American pie.

THE PIE: Chocolate chess

THE LOWDOWN: While the butter in the hand-made, rolled-daily crust hails from Europe, not to worry: the pastry flour is from North Carolina. The only other ingredients are a little sugar, some salt, some vinegar, ice water and TLC. The filling ingredients are equally simple — Swiss chocolate, butter, local cage-free eggs, vanilla, sugar and salt. The cacao beans? From Ghana.

MY TAKEAWAY: Forget Frenchified soufflé au chocolat or chocolate mousse. Sit down to a Southern favorite that dates back to Martha Washington — chess pie. This version is intense, dominated by a jolt of chocolate that dances all over your tongue. The crust is textbook, so rich and flaky you look forward to attacking what’s sometimes left uneaten on other pies — the crust’s shoulder.

MOST POPULAR PIE: Chocolate chess, of course

THE PIE MAKER: Robin Davis, the owner of Maxie B’s (named after pugs Max and Bitterman), never meant to run a cake shop. It was her late husband, Lewis, a workout fanatic, who in 2002 urged her to, please, stop filling the house and kitchen with tempting cakes. So she moved her baking operation to the yogurt shop she was running. While pregnant, she craved a devil’s food cake like the ones she remembered from family reunions. The rest, like our slice of her pie, is history. Two articles in Southern Living brought, quite literally, busloads of people to try this devil’s (and angel) food, and, as business boomed, Robin’s shop expanded, gobbling up two adjacent storefronts. The devil’s food cake is still available, along with red velvet, hummingbird, coconut, caramel and dozens of others.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Pies featured year-round include chocolate chess, pecan, coconut custard (and cream) and chocolate cream. Seasonally, expect lemon meringue and cherry, plus, when available, fruit pies with local, freshly picked produce, including blackberry pies (stuffed with Climax Creek Homestead berries) and sweet potato pies (with taters from Faucette Farms in Brown Summit).

2403 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-288-9811, maxieb.com

THE PIE HOLE: Delicious Bakery

Sit down to your pie in Delicious’ new, light, bright and airy venue on Battleground. The dining area is spacious, affording privacy if you want to share the latest crumb of gossip (or pie) with a confidante. Or seek out a nook where you, your laptop and an espresso can get some work done — or eat as much pie as you want away from prying eyes.

OUR SLICE: Lemon meringue

THE LOWDOWN: The crust is hand-rolled, butter-based and made from scratch. The filling, made from egg yolks, sugar, butter, lemon juice and zest, is thickened with corn starch. A stunning swirl of meringue made from egg whites, sugar and vanilla is torched to a golden brown finish.

MY TAKEAWAY: It seemed a shame to take a knife to the towering, mile-high meringue, but, when I did, the aroma of fresh-sliced lemons permeated the air. The filling bristled with a sweet-and-sour tang while the meringue provided a great
balance to its tartness, not too rich or sweet. The pre-baked crust served as a tasty vessel — and not over-baked. Here’s a dessert that’s a classic for a good reason.

BEST SELLER: Chocolate chess

THE PIE MAKERS: Owner Mary Reid, as much an artist as a baker, got things going in her home kitchen in 2004, whipping up and decorating cakes for neighbors and friends. She soon opened a storefront and then a sit-down location with Lori Loftis, her sister and a pie enthusiast, who has dipped her spoon in and out of the business for the last 20 years.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: As a full-service bakery with seasonal offerings including cakes, cupcakes, cheesecakes, cookies, brownies and breakfast pastries, it’s become a really popular meet-and-eat spot. My only battle in this space that once housed Burger Warfare is which pie to order.

1209 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-282-1377 | 336-288-3657 | delicious-cakes.com

THE PIE HOLE: Gardener Bob Homestead Kitchen

A modest storefront with a few tables on the sidewalk out front, Bob’s spot has a sort of alternative, organic vibe, just like Gardener Bob.

OUR SLICE: Pecan

THE LOWDOWN: The crust is homemade with King Arthur’s wheat-and-barley flour, water, salt and butter. The custard filling, baked in the pie, is a confection of sweet-cream butter, flour, evaporated milk and brown sugar — no high-fructose corn syrup.

MY TAKEAWAY: A variant on your traditional Southern pecan pie, Bob’s version is a three-part harmony beginning with sort of a praline topping that crinkles up across the top and is good enough to pick off and eat like candy. The filling is a caramelly melody of pecans, butter and brown sugar with a grace note of vanilla. The fairly thin crust is a cracker sponge that I used to sop up the syrup that spilled across my pie plate.

BEST SELLER: Pecan

THE PIE MAKER: Working in kitchens since attending culinary school as a teen, Robert (please call him Bob) Thomas has cooked for a living all his life, including three years as a baker. He’s always had a soft spot for making desserts. Recovering from alcohol and heroin addiction at 33, Bob was surprised that he continued to be plagued by digestive issues. Determined to leave preservatives, dyes, chemicals, artificial ingredients and processed foods behind, Bob gardened, baked, fermented and cooked his way to better gut health. In 2021, he began selling his goods in farmers markets, along with his home-grown vegetables. He opened his Spring Garden storefront in November 2023.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Determined to share his journey to good health with both advice and merch, Bob specializes in foods that promote good gut health — sourdough bread, all things fermented — from sauerkraut to pickles, kimchi to kombucha — along with baked goods (some gluten-free) and, of course, pies of every ilk.

2823 Spring Garden St., Greensboro
743-222-3933 | gardenerbob.com

THE PIE HOLE: POUND by Legacy Cakes

THE PIE: Key lime cream

THE LOWDOWN: The recipe, passed down from her mother, Margaret S. Gladney, is a bit of a family secret, but Margaret Elaine, who is, of course, named after her mom, did reveal that it’s whipped, not cooked, and the filling involves sweetened condense milk. And she, naturally, uses those itty-bitty key limes, organic please.

MY TAKEAWAY: Unlike heavier key lime pie filling, cooked with egg yolks and condensed milk, Margaret’s filling is light and creamy, almost fluffy, with a subtle, not citrusy balance of sweet and sour. (It’s so good that, if left unattended on a table top, swipe marks from family fingers inevitably appear!) Playing against the tart filling, the golden graham-cracker crust is a neutral palate with scrumptious, crunchy crumbles around the pie’s edge.

MOST POPULAR PIE: Key lime cream

THE PIE MAKER: Margaret says her Key lime pie is a spin-off of the one her mother would make, along with the famous lemon pound cake her mom baked for revivals at the 120-year-old Goshen United Methodist Church. As the youngest of 13 children, Margaret recalls her momma telling her to tiptoe across the kitchen floor so the cake wouldn’t fall. If lucky, she’d get to be the one to lick the bowl and beaters — or scoop up some crumbs that might have stuck to the pan. Margaret prides herself on incorporating her passion for science, chemistry, home economics, fashion and interior design into a legacy her mother would have been proud of.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Other pies featuring her mother’s recipes include lemon cream pie, million dollar cream pie, pecan pie and sweet potato pie. But Margaret says her real specialty is baked-fresh-daily, hot-from-the-oven pound cakes in 150 varieties, some traditional made from 100-year-old recipes, others with a more contemporary twist, like her banana pudding pound cake or her sweet potato pound cake. There’s even a bubble gum pound cake available on special request.

3008 Spring Garden St., Greensboro 336-383-6957 | facebook.com/POUNDbyLegacyCakesInc

Second location
1620 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-383-6957

THE PIE HOLE: The Cherry Pit Cafe & Pie Shop

Walk into pie central and prepare to get a face full of pies and a friendly greeting from a waitstaff wearing cherry-red pie T-shirts. The walls are covered with pie slogans, pictures of pies and pie-making implements. And why not? Owner Brian Cotrone (along with his wife and business partner, April Douglas) estimates they have sold over 100,000 pies since opening July 1, 2013. The decor is cheery and modern, with bright-red upholstered banquettes and fast-casual service where your food is delivered to your table after you order at the counter.

OUR SLICE: Cherry lattice

THE LOWDOWN: This pie, made in-house from scratch like all their pies, is all about the filling, chock full of Michigan cherries. It is cooked in a steam kettle to assure the proper thickness and balance of sweet and sour. The homemade pie dough is latticed across the top, six vertical, six horizontal, and then coated with an egg wash to achieve a toasted-brown sheen.

MY TAKEAWAY: The cherries are the money in this pie, plump and piled high, with a gloriously gooey and addictive binding. The shell and the lattice are slightly sweet, balancing the tartness of the cherries. And since sour cherries are packed with melatonin and tryptophan, we’re totally convinced that cherry pie is good for you.

BEST SELLER: Pecan

THE PIE MAKERS: Twenty-five years ago, Brian, a corporate restaurant supervisor, and April, a restaurant general manager, met in Las Vegas. There, they ended up running a restaurant with a heavy pie focus. In July 2013, they launched their own pie-centric concept in Greensboro.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Yes, they sell 10,000 pies a year, including a savory chicken pot pie, but The Cherry Pit Cafe also offers breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week for those of you who don’t think pie is a main course.

11 B Pisgah Church Rd, Greensboro
336-617-3249 | cherrypitcafe.com

THE PIE HOLE: Dessert Du Jour

Catch Wendy Dodson and her Dessert Du Jour tent almost any Saturday it’s not raining or snowing along the back row of The Corner Farmers Market. The market, located at the corner of West Market and Kensington in the St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church parking lot, is open from 8 a.m. until noon Saturdays year round.

OUR SLICE: Apple crumb

THE LOWDOWN: Granny Smith apples are dusted with flour and sugar and then oven-roasted. Next? Brown sugar, spices and a whole stick — in bits — of butter. Once mixed and cooled, it goes into her handmade crust. Hand mixing the dough allows little globs of high-fat (Plugra) butter to melt and puff up during baking, similar to a croissant. Lastly, the crispy crumb layer, made of sugar, spices, flour and, you guessed it, more butter, tops it all.

MY TAKEAWAY: As my first bite, loaded with each layer — crust, apple filling and crumb — neared my own pie hole, my nose twitched, triggered by the smell of cinnamon-kissed apples and toasty, brown butter. Moist and tender, the caramelized apples are perfectly paired with the golden, flaky crust, resulting in a palate-pleasing balance of sweet and salty. And, for me, the cherry on top was the satisfying crunch of the golden crumb topping, of which, well, I left no crumbs.

BEST SELLER: Husband and O.Henry magazine founder Jim Dodson insists her chocolate chess pie is so decadent you’ll end up licking your fork clean.

THE PIE MAKER: As a child, owner Wendy Dodson spent two weeks of every summer at her grandmother’s house. There, she learned the art of baking and making the perfect pie crust. Dessert Du Jour came into full fruition following COVID. Retiring from her HR job, Wendy put all her eggs into her baked-goods basket. Dessert Du Jour celebrates five years in business this month.

GOOD TO KNOW: Wendy offers market pre-orders so you can sleep in on a Saturday morning and rest assured that your pre-ordered pie, cookies or cake will be waiting for you until at least noon at the market. OH

The Corner Farmers Market, 2105 W. Market St., Greensboro 910-585-2584 | dessertdujour.net

2026 Any Way You Slice It Feature

Poem March 2026

Poem

Julian

In christening gown and bonnet,

he is white and stoic as the moon,

unflinching as the sun burns

through yellow puffs of pine

pollen gathered at his crown

while I pour onto his forehead

from a tiny blue Chinese rice cup

holy water blessed

by John Paul II himself

and say, “I baptize you, Julian Joseph,

in the name of the Father, and of the Son,

and of the Holy Spirit.”

Nor does he stir when the monarchs

and swallowtails,

in ecclesiastical vestments,

lift from the purple brushes

of the butterfly bush

and light upon him.

— Joseph Bathanti

2026 Feature Poem

White House Drawing Room

WHITE HOUSE DRAWING ROOM

White House Drawing Room

John Hutton says he can teach anyone to draw U.S. presidents and first ladies. We put him to the test.

By Maria Johnson

Photographs by Mark Wagoner

A Friday afternoon.

A few cans of seltzer water.

A half dozen No. 2 pencils.

A projector.

A teacher who knows what he’s doing.

And a half dozen good-humored students.

Welcome to art class, O.Henry style.

Recently, we drafted a sketchy crew, in the best sense, to mosey over to the magazine’s office in Greensboro’s Revolution Mill.

Our recruits accepted the invitation — OK, it was more of a plea sweetened by the promise of snacks — to test the skills of John Hutton, a professor of art history at Salem College in Winton-Salem.

Hutton claims that he can teach anyone to draw a U.S. president or first lady, and he’s willing to put his executive powers on the line, with good reason.

Last year, his book, aptly named How to Draw U.S. Presidents and First Ladies, was published by the White House Historical Association and won the 2025 American Book Fest Book Award for Best Children’s Novelty and Gift Book.

The workbook gives step-by-step instructions for rendering the 45 men who have served as president.

The book also depicts 47 women — most of whom were actually married to a POTUS.

Two presidents — Woodrow Wilson and John Tyler — were widowed and remarried while in office. They’re shown with two wives each.

One prez, James Buchanan, was a lifelong bachelor. His niece, Harriet Lane, served as the de facto first lady, socially speaking, so she graces Hutton’s pages just as she graced 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Back to art class. On the day we gather, Hutton is full of fun facts for our students, who are friends and office neighbors of the magazine.

Participants include State Farm Insurance agents Margo and Archie Herring; Susan Sinnott, office manager of Alem Dickey Keel Interior Design; Pam Garner, president of Triad Sales & Recruiting Solutions; Harsha Mirchandani, development director for College Pathways of the Triad; and Moe Miles, who, with his wife Autumn, owns and operates Greenlove Coffee.

As they arrive, everyone wants to make one thing clear: In no way does their drawing ability reflect their professional prowess.

1Notch a “V” just below the second horizontal line on the grid, he tells them. That’s the tip of the nose.

Add flared nostrils and keep your pencils moving upward.

This brings you to the eyes, which land smack dab on the first horizontal line. Start simply: dot, dot. Brows undulate above that.

Now, drop down to the mouth. Abe’s lips fall just above the bottom line.

At this point, the faces on everyone’s papers — as well as the image that Hutton projects on the wall — bear no resemblance to Abe.

The magic happens when Hutton instructs his pupils to add high cheek bones — “question marks,” he calls them — and the sidelines of a lean face.

Suddenly, six Abes emerge.

And so do astonished smiles on the faces of our of budding artists.

They can draw.

The mood loosens as Hutton guides them through Abe’s wrinkles.

Obviously, Abe lived preplastic-surgery era, several people observe. His elevens — worry lines between his eyebrows — also indicate that the late unpleasantness might have been even more unpleasant, cosmetically speaking, owing to the absence of Botox.

A few lines later, Abe’s face is fully fleshed out with his wavy hair, large ears and real-deal bow tie. No clips-ons for No. 16.

He looks fit for a play-money penny in each of the students’ drawings.

“Everybody does it a little bit differently,” says Hutton.

Except for Margo and Archie’s Abes. They’re essentially twins.

What is it they say about married couples? After a while, their drawings of Abe Lincoln start to look alike?

Chitchat flows between our newborn Picassos as Hutton brings up the second subject of the day:

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, the wife and later widow of John F. Kennedy. She also founded the White House Historical Association.

There’s another piece of trivia worth preserving.

In sharp contrast to Lincoln, Jackie was a style maker, setting fashion standards with her bouffant hairdo, flip curls and pearl chokers.

Hutton flashes his example on the wall and instructs his students to start again with the nose.

“She has a broad nose, but not as broad as Abraham’s,” he says. “Her eyes are going to be well below the eye-line. They’re fairly wide set, much more than ordinary.”

Jackie’s lips, he points out, are rather full, and her mouth turns up slightly at the corners.

“That’s what makes her look friendly,” he says.

By this time, our students are getting friendly with each other.

“Do you need an eraser?” Harsha asks Susan.

“You don’t have any left,” Susan teases back.

They speculate about whether Jackie’s lips were plumped by filler.

When Susan draws one of Jackie’s bob earrings next to her jaw, Harsha joshes that it looks like a cyst: “She’s got to get that thing drained!”

Pam texts her husband to ask what he’s doing at work. She sends him pics of her sketches to flaunt her fun.

Moe is so impressed with his work that he considers adding it to the Greenlove menu.

Next to a decaf Lincoln latte perhaps? A caramel Jack-iat-O.?

These reluctant creatives — who initially wanted to leave their names off their papers for fear of being ridiculed — now want to show off their works.

“I have skills!” marvels Archie, looking at his handiwork.

Margo asks Hutton if he’s ever met an unteachable student.

Every ounce the teacher, Hutton refuses to say yes.

Learning is a process, he says, and the important thing is to stay at the process.

“I try to help them do it better,” he says.

In the end, the class gives Hutton thumbs-up on his teaching ability.

“I think your method is highly effective, the way you break it down,” says Harsha.

Class is dismissed and everyone leaves clutching sketches worthy of the White House — refrigerator.

Well, Hello, Dolley!

Try your hand at drawing Greensboro’s
own Dolley Madison

She was the OG of FLs.

Before anyone called the first ladies “first ladies,” Dolley Todd Madison, who spent her babyhood in what’s now Greensboro, shaped what people would later regard as the role of a first lady.

She was married to James Madison, who would become the country’s fourth POTUS, but before that, she handled the White House social life of their friend, Thomas Jefferson, whose wife had died before he assumed office as the third U.S. president.

Dolley, who famously threw small parties called “squeezes” — think what you will — was known as the D.C. hostess with the most-est, which is probably why the Hostess snack cake company once had a line of Dolly (with no “e”) Madison baked goods.

Raise your hand if you remember raspberry Zingers.

Anyhoo, Dolley was on-point, stylistically, and more than a little rebellious for her time.

She made turbans with tassels a thing.

She dipped snuff.

She also turned the White House into a veritable Baskin-Robbins on the Potomac, generously dishing out the frozen confection that Thomas Jefferson, a former ambassador to France, first introduced to the White House as a taste of continental culture.

Let’s face it: if Dolley were around today, the girl probably would be pierced and tatted, though maybe not for her official portrait.

Which brings us to an actual portrait of Ms. Madison. Because no one posted pics — or even took pics — back in Dolley’s day, paintings are the only way we have of knowing what she looked like.

If you want to try John Hutton’s method for yourself, pick up some colored pencils and use the grid we’ve provided to create your own version of DM. Feel free to take some creative liberties and send your best sketch to cassie@ohenrymag.com or drop your work in an in-feed Instagram post and tag us in the image: @o.henrymag.

The winner will receive a copy of John Hutton’s book and a place in a forthcoming issue.

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2026 Feature White House Drawing Room

Category: Feature

KNOWING WHEN TO BALE

Knowing When to Bale

For Rachel York, a straw-bale home was the answer to her domestic riddle

BRAKE FOR ESTATE SALES

Brake for Estate Sales

More than a junking junket

The Trend Cycle — and Upcycle

POEM

BEAT BY BEAT

Beat By Beat

Greensboro’s newest poet laureate aims to build bridges

SANCTUARY

Sanctuary

A Kernersville gardener creates a native plant refuge

FEAST YOUR EYES

Feast Your Eyes

Lettering artist Marley Soden serves up food for font

THE PRESERVATIONIST AND THE PAINTER

The Preservationist and the Painter

A marriage of opposites dances in the light on Magnolia

ANY WAY YOU SLICE IT

Any Way You Slice It

Pi Day, you say? We couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than by stuffing ourselves silly with a local sampling.

THE PIE HOLE: Maxie B’s

THE PIE HOLE: Delicious Bakery

THE PIE HOLE: Gardener Bob Homestead Kitchen

THE PIE HOLE: POUND by Legacy Cakes

THE PIE HOLE: The Cherry Pit Cafe & Pie Shop

THE PIE HOLE: Dessert Du Jour

Poem

Poem

Julian

WHITE HOUSE DRAWING ROOM

White House Drawing Room

John Hutton says he can teach anyone to draw U.S. presidents and first ladies. We put him to the test.

Well, Hello, Dolley!