Art is the spice that flavors our lives

Why do I love art so?

Looking around my living room, I see that art is the spice that turns my habitat from black and white to color.

The paintings, the pottery, the little hand-woven rug, the wooden, blue dog sculpture from Fish Heads Gallery.  The ceramic flounder plate I found at the Mattie King Gallery that makes me smile every time I focus on its silly, google-eyed expression.  The over-sized seascapes we moved three thousand miles because they'd become old friends and we couldn't leave them behind.

How dull our world without art

How about you?  Do you, too, share your home with art and music?  And do they provoke memories of how they came into your life?  And aren't we very fortunate to live in a place filled with such a richness of creative spirit and artistic talent.

With art on my mind, I set out to talk with some of our creative folks to ask  “Why Do We Need Art—and Music?” Limits of space meant I could only interview a few of the many...but I hope those interviewed represent viewpoints of more.

John Masterson is a reverse glass painter and a sculptor using found materials.

Why do I make art?

After giving it thought, John Masterson answers:

"Art is what makes us human.

A lot of my work is very whimsical—it makes people smile and even laugh.  People identify with this; it engages them.

I don't create works to sell.  I paint for me. That's what people are interested in. As soon as it becomes work, it's not art for me.

Sometimes, I get lucky.  For example, I just got a commission for a painting.  The client wrote me a check and said 'paint what you want. We like your work.'

I appreciate that."

Bio. John is a self-taught artist originally from Massachusetts. He had been involved in the family furniture business.  When the building was lost in a fire, John moved to Colorado. After five years in the mountains, he found Colorado didn't feel like home—it was too far from the ocean.  John and his family began to search for 'a small tourist town on the ocean they could afford.'  They discovered Beaufort.  “This became home for us after three months.”  John now owns and operates Fish Heads Gallery on Middle Lane in Beaufort, NC, which is open seven days a week. A web site is in progress.

Mary Warshaw is a painter, an historian and a goodwill ambassador for Beaufort

Why do we need art?

Mary Warshaw says, "An art professor I had once said that 'art will be our salvation—it allows people to express our feelings and emotions.'

I believe this is true.

Have you noticed how children use art? For them it's a huge form of personal expression and communication.  Kids are free and open with their art—until their peers and adults start judging them.

Only art gives permanence to feelings.  Art stirs feelings and emotions in other people. The artist has the ability to create their interpretation of what they're seeing—it may or not appeal.

One thing I've found people are quick to react to is their home. In my paintings of houses and porches, I want the viewer to step into the painting, to go sit on the porch, to feel the history. That's why I often have an open gate...this gives a welcome; an invitation to come inside. It's been my pleasure to create porch-scapes of our special historic Beaufort homes."

Bio. Mary Warshaw is well-known for her watercolors of Beaufort''s historic homes and porches.  Most recently, Mary has published a coffee table book: Porchscapes, The Colors of Beaufort, Three Centuries of History Woven Through Art and Works. Compiled over the past eight years, the book's foundation is built around the houses that create Beaufort's street vistas and the people who built and lived in these  “Architectural Treasures.”  The introduction, by architectural historian Tony P. Wrenn, is a wonderful love song to Beaufort.  Find out more, visit:  http://warshawsites.blogspot.com

Why should we support art and music?

Thomas "Tip" Noe, American Music Festival Board member and supporter

This is what Tip Noe thinks:  "This question is really the same question as “Why bother to get out of bed in the morning?”  There are practical aspects to consider in both cases.  For example, if you don’t get out of bed and eat, you die.  For example, if there are no 'performance' opportunities in your community, then there will be no performing artists.

Another way of asking the question is:  How do we get to the next level in our lives?  And where does 'the practical' transition into something else?

We know that we can live a better life if we join together in communities where needs can be met by people who are good at what they do instead of having to be on our own and being master of nothing.  Of course, even in a community it is possible to pass through life seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing and being nothing.  How much better, then, to be fully engaged with life, to create and see beauty, and to live in harmony with nature and our neighbors.

This is where art can come to help us out.  If we do not farm, we will starve.  If we do not have the experience of art, our lives will be the poorer for its absence.

If you would like to see art in action, join in the musical community of the American Music Festival at the History Place in Morehead City, NC, on September 25.  There will be a performance by the Ciompi Quartet from Duke University of some of the great music by Ravel, Debussy and Francaix.  This is a practical way to experience community, meet friends, support the arts in our community and benefit directly from the accumulated musical experience of the 20th century.

Bio. Tip Noe is a resident of Beaufort, NC having retired to Beaufort from Washington, DC after a career in government service. He is on the board of the American Music Festival, a Carteret County organization that has been bringing classical music to Eastern North Carolina for 21 years.  He has one daughter who is a professional musician and professor of music.  He regrets that he is the non-musical member of the family, being the only family member that didn't reach the performance level on at least one instrument. For  more information about the American Music Festival try www.americanmusicfestival.org

Frank Kerr, Architect, Painter

What is Art?

To me, art is a language.  It follows all the dictates of language and how language came about. Art is possibly the first language, especially cave art and hieroglyphics.  I imagine cavemen wanted to record something; an incident or a message.

Elements of art are the words that convey light, dark, value, motion.

Around 1930, George H. Opdyke, a mining engineer who was interested in art, wrote  a book titled Art and Nature Appreciation.  In his book, Opdyke said that the structure of art is very similar to language—and could do some of the same things as language.

You have form, water, air, fire and all of that.  Expressions of art are expressions of what those forms can do.  But the basics of art came first.  Defining art and defining the philosophy of art would be the expression of the language. The American Institute of Architects though he had something there.

What caught my attention was the dismissal of  Opdyke's book by art directors and curators. Most museum curators would not admit to art being a language.  They don't want art to be a language because they would rather have art be obscure. That way, they gain power.

Bio. For nearly eight decades, Francis K. Kerr has created original watercolor paintings of natural and built landscapes in North America and Europe. Even in his nineties, he continues to delight friends and family each holiday season with his watercolor miniature Christmas cards.

A native of Canada, Frank Kerr spent his career as an architect in Minneapolis and Washington,  DC.  He began his art and painting instruction at the age of twelve.  In 2009, Frank and wife Mary, a retired interior designer, re-located to Beaufort, NC to be closer to their daughter and son-in-law, Kathy and Mark Schurdevin.  Frank and Mary now make their home in a cottage surrounded by flowering foliage on the outside, and with walls of vibrant art on the inside. Visit Frank's web site to enjoy his paintings: www.frankkerr.com

Why do we need art?

Mary Cotter Hurst  says, "We need art for the same reason we need oxygen--it lets us breathe, it gives us life. Without art, we would suffocate. And because we breathe, we're in touch with all five senses.

Mary Cotter Hurst, print-maker and etchings creator

We see art, we touch art, we hear art through music, we can smell art in the form of floral arrangements, in an artful garden, or in nature.  And we taste art through the culinary arts in food and wine."

Bio. Mary Cotter Hurst comes to Beaufort by way of Western Massachusetts, Plymouth MA and Provincetown MA. She earned her BFA from Massachusetts College of Art, Boston MA, with Honors in Printmaking, and her MFA from UMASS. She got her first press in 1989, and has been producing limited etchings ever since. She has won many awards including Honorable Mention, Plymouth Guild 26th Annual Show printmaking 1994, First Place Plymouth Guild Annual Show, Printmaking 1993, Honorable Mention Plymouth Guild Annual Show printmaking1992, Duxbury Art Association; Duxbury MA Second Place 1992, Yarmouth Arts Council; Yarmouth MA First Place 1991, South Shore Art Association; Cohasset MA First Place, Printmaking 1990. Her etchings are in numerous private collections. Before moving to Beaufort NC she managed the Sarah Jessica Fine Arts Gallery in Provincetown MA where she still shows her work. Mary is also the owner of the Cotter Hurst Gallery located at the Old Seaport Inn in Beaufort NC, which she operates with her husband, FJ Hurst. www.oldseaportinn.com.

After Europe, Beaufort's now Jack Saylor's home

Why do people need art?

I'm not so sure people do need art in as much as they desire it, like they desire a fine wine or visiting some wonderful place like Florence, Italy or Beaufort. Such things are chosen out of desire, not necessity, which is why artists should never assume that what they do is needed, but is instead desired. The only people, in my opinion, who truly need art, are the artists themselves. For us it is absolutely vital.

Bio. Jack Saylor, a native of North Carolina, received a BS degree in painting from Barton College in Wilson, NC in 1983. After spending time studying art in Spain and France, Jack and his wife, Ann, moved to Beaufort in 1995, so he could commit fully to his passion of painting the sea. Jack has had numerous solo exhibitions and has been featured in Our State magazine (December 2008)  and American Art  Collector (July 2010). His work is held in numerous private and corporate collections. Jack is represented in North Carolina by Carteret Contemporary Art in Morehead City and by City Art Gallery in Greenville. Beginning this fall, his work will be represented nationally by Cavalier Galleries in Greenwich CT and Nantucket Island. Poster reproductions of Jack's works are published by Bruce McGaw Graphics in New York. Discover more about Jack and his art at www.jacksaylor.com.

What about you?

Why do you love art?

Do art and music impact your life?  Tell us how.  Please register on this site and share your views with us.

What are your ideas on how our community--and we, ourselves--can help our artists thrive?

And how can we make our community even more of a vibrant and artful place?

Cool dogs and Hot days

These hot days of summer have been called the 'dog days,' so we figured what could be better than to hit the streets of Beaufort Town and Morehead City and ask our friends, neighbors, townspeople and visitors the question of  "what has your dog taught you?" Along the way, we hoped to make the acquaintance of some special dogs — and indeed, this proved the case.

Louis Armstrong, Jack Russell Terrier

The best Jack Russell...ever

“What have I learned from Louie?  He's taught me to follow him wherever he wants to go. I've had him seven and half years. Louie's quite a musical dog.  His mother's name was Billie Holiday. Patti Page was the name of his grandmother. You might have heard of his brother — Nat King Cole?"

“Louie's a local.  He was conceived in Beaufort — I arranged the marriage — but born in Troy, North Carolina. He's such a good pup. The best Jack Russell Terrier there is. And he's a great crab-chasing dog."

— David R. of Beaufort and Chapel Hill, NC

Martha, daughter and Lola, mother, two Standard Poodles

Martha & Lola, Standard Poodles

“What my dogs taught me is that going for a walk always makes you feel better.”

"I learned that trauma when you're young stays with you.  Before we got her, Lola must have been locked in a bathroom as a young puppy. That's often done with litters. Eight years later, she still won't go into a room with shiny floors and only one exit. She wouldn't even walk on a shiny floor for a long time. That's gotten better.”

“Martha and Lola have also taught me that if you're beautiful, you get more attention. We had mutts when we first got married, and no one ever stopped to pet or praise them. Strange how we look at the world: things that are beautiful get more attention than the ordinary. I've also found out that while the beauty might attract someone, it's the brains that keep you around. Our breed, the Standard Poodle, is a very smart one.”

— Cheryl K., Morehead City, NC

Corky, the Corgie mix

Corky's a hot dog of summer

“I'm walking Corky for my grandmother,” said grand-daughter Emily. “He's her dog. What I've learned from Corky is that he's short, but that doesn't stop him from doing anything.  He's a big dog in a little dog's body. He's the sweetest dog ever. My grandmother got him from the animal shelter.”

—Emily, Beaufort, NC

Chrissie, the Sheltie blend

She likes to herd

“Chrissie's taught me tolerance and acceptance. She's a pound puppy who came with her challenges. She was definitely an abused dog. She's afraid of men. I used to have Labs who loved everyone.”

“Now I've learned that different breeds of dogs have distinct personalities. Once we were over on Carrot Island and she went tearing off after the horses. I was afraid she'd get trampled or kicked. But no; she got the horses all lined up in a neat row and was herding them down the beach. She's a Sheltie mix. Her loyalty is amazing. She's very sharp and tuned-in to me. Sometimes she tries to talk.”

—Dizy B. of Beaufort, NC and Costa Rica

Maggie, the wise elder terrier

Maggie at 15

“Maggie's taught me about adaptability. She's been through a lot and lived in many places. Once she was in quarantine for six months when we moved back to the U.K. She's lived with us in California, and on a horse farm in Middletown, NY. Maggie's  lived on our boat with us, too. She's become a celebrity wherever she goes. She's fifteen now. Hard of hearing, but her sight's still real good. What kind of dog is she? We figure part Wheaten Terrier with some Shepherd.”

— Jon G. of Beaufort, NC

Beethoven, the big-hearted, long-haired Chihuahua

Beethoven orders a cold one at the Back Street

“This is Beethoven. What he's taught me is to relax. He takes a lot of the every day pressure off me.  He sleeps with me, and I used to take him on jobs. Loves to ride. My son named him — he was studying piano at the time.”

“He's a long-haired chihuahua.  He was born in Greenville, NC. Out of a litter of five, three were long-haired and two were short-haired.  He's my buddy, goes with me everywhere I go.  Whenever he hears kids he heads right for them.  Wants to play with 'em.  A very gentle dog.”

— Eddie L. , Beaufort, NC

Willowby and Royce,  happy mini-poodles

Willowby & Royce, two beloved Mini-Poodles

“These two are a lot like our kids.  They're interesting in how they relate to one another.  They compete for attention. Sometimes they're jealous of one another, though you can tell they care for each other.”

“They need massive amounts of attention and if you give it to them they give back a massive amount of love, too. They went on a speed boat ride today.  One was scared.  The other one loved it. They're scheduled to get groomed when we get home.”

— Susan and Jim B., Buies Creek, NC

It was great meeting these friendly dogs. I learned something from each of them.  And from the people who accompanied them.  My biggest lesson?  Most of all, I found out that dogs mean love...

..and I learned you're never a stranger when you're in the company of a dog

About the author...

Patricia Frank loves dogs...and small towns. She's also the editor and publisher of Vibrant Village.  Whenever she can, she likes to visit with people she meets. In future Vibrant Village issues, she'll be asking more questions and publishing more answers from people in our community.

Placing surface parking lots in your downtown is like placing a toilet in your living room

-- unknown author

Courthouse could have become a parking lot

I'd read about about it.  Wondered about it.  Saw how many enjoyed it.  But not until I put my own feet on Hendersonville's Main Street, did I experience it for my own.

And you know something?  It was wonderful

I was in Vibrant Village heaven.  Hendersonville's Main Street was all I'd hoped for, all I'd dreamt about. For you see, as Enrique Peñalosa (an expert on designing world-class cities and former Mayor of Bogotá), has said, “God made us walking animals—pedestrians. As a fish needs to swim, a bird to fly, a deer to run, we need to walk, not in order to survive, but to be happy. ”

Hendersonville 1890

Maybe that's why Hendersonville's Main Street felt so pleasing.  I could walk; I didn't feel threatened by speeding traffic. Here on Main Street, I got to experience the principles of traffic calming. It worked, and it worked well.  Gentle serpentine curves, bump-outs, planters and wide sidewalks slowed car traffic. As a  pedestrian, I found traffic calming had created a peaceful co-existence with cars as they made their way down the street.  A torrent of traffic was now a trickle. Four lanes of traffic had been reduced to two. Drivers needing to get places in a hurry tended to choose other streets.

Hendersonville's calm traffic made me feel welcomed

Everything had been done to create a place that made a happy habitat for humans.  And a friendly place, for this Main Street proved an  easy place to strike up a conversation with walkers and shopkeepers.  I'd never found such easy human contact in malls.

Hendersonville in 1916

All ages were found here—dog walkers, young families pushing baby strollers, elders walking hand in hand, young people gathered in groups.  I'd rarely seen such a friendly scene outside of plazas in Mexico and Italy.  It was mighty refreshing.

Hendersonville in 1934

This street evoked so many fond memories. It reminded me of my childhood town's Main Street--one that's since vanished, done in by shopping malls and big box stores.  But not here.  Not in Hendersonville.

Who, I wondered, had been responsible for creating such a wonderful and welcoming downtown?

Main Street Gets Malled

I discovered the picture wasn't quite so rosy back in 1983.  That's the year the Blue Ridge Mall opened.  Main Street's retail business began a real slump. Empty stores appeared. The downtown easily could have faded, its business lost to big box stores and acres of parking.  But no, the townspeople and retailers cared too much.

One solution was the formation of Downtown Hendersonville Inc. (DHI) in 1985.   Among their many achievements were lighting the roof lines, a Christmas wreath program, installation of Colonial light fixtures—and all those blooming flowers and comfy benches for gathering.

One building caught my attention right away--the striking and cheery yellow antique courthouse.  What a sweet classic. Its generous plaza and pretty curved dome invited the eye. The nobility of its design spoke of stability and charm.

But this was a building that almost wasn't.  There had been discussions to tear down the 1904 building and put up a parking lot.

Along came Jones, Dr. George A. Jones

A gentleman named Dr. George A. Jones didn't think tearing down the courthouse was a good idea. Not at all. He said “No sir, we're going to restore it.  We'd found the original architectural drawings, and I was determined our courthouse would be restored back to its original condition—with some necessary improvements—like bathrooms.”

That sounded like a big job. How was this feat accomplished? The question earned a chuckle from Doctor Jones. He replied, “By twisting the county commissioners' arms 'out of shape,' issuing bonds and raising $11 million dollars.”

Thanks to Dr Jones and others who valued the building, the courthouse now stands, gleaming in the sun.  Even better than before with modern bathrooms and elevators.  Within, many town needs are met, including a popular 'community room' that seats 150.  A higher purpose, a better concept than an expanse of oil-stained asphalt for parking  cars.

Came home just in time

A Hendersonville native, Dr. Jones had spent years away from his hometown but returned home 27 years ago at a time when the town needed his wisdom the most. He has high regard for Main Streets and says, “The Main Street of any town represents the heartbeat of that town.  They represent the past, present—and future.  They're visible evidence of former lives and tell you a lot about your ancestors. Strip malls do not have a life of their own.”

Now in his 90th year, Dr. Jones continues to give back to the community he loves.  He now heads the Genealogical Association and recently co-authored a book: A Guide to Historic Henderson County.

Many other people and several organizations played pivotal roles in saving Main Street.  I wish there were space to salute each of them for their vision and dedication. Committees championed  festivals and museums with great success. The hugely popular Apple Festival, for example.  It's grown into the 7th biggest festival in the U.S.

The Mineral and Lapidary Museum is thriving and adding to their collections and exhibits.  This Main Street museum attracts 100,000 annual visitors.  Kids love the minerals that glow in the dark, the  gigantic T-Rex head, and the dinosaur nest with six dinosaur eggs. The museum's housed in a re-purposed old bank building.

A retail mix for everyone

What a lively street is this Main Street of Hendersonville. It offers, among its vibrant retail mix, an old-time soda fountain, a coffee café where people gather and performances are held, a well-stocked music store, several  toy shops, including one that displays antique toys in its windows, and a general store where 'if you don't find it here, you don't need it.'  Clothing stores, antiques, contemporary furniture, art galleries, pubs...so many wonderful possibilities.  A dedicated skateboard shop appeals to young shoppers.

Seems the town offers something for everyone. More than a dozen tempting eateries serve up eclectic dining options. I tried to sample most of them.  I missed a few, will have to return to correct that.

Talking the walk

My personal love affair with Hendersonville began to bud when I discovered a downtown that placed pedestrians above cars. As Lewis Mumford, the American historian and philosopher said, “Forget the damned motor car and build the cities for lovers and friends.”

Hendersonville has done just that. And done it exceedingly well.

Economically vital, attracting newcomers, and growing in smart growth ways, the town truly attracts lovers and friends—and new business. Makes sense.  People spend money.

Cars?

They always demand more expensive infrastructure, give little back, and catering to them solves little.

Glen Hemistra, a futurist and advocate of walkable communities nailed it when he said,  “Adding lanes to solve traffic congestion is like loosening your belt to solve obesity.”

Vibrant Village salutes the town of Hendersonville for putting cars on a reducing diet and putting people's health first. A feat wisely executed: putting feet on Main Street.

Dr. George A. Jones'  Tips on Creating a Vibrant Main Street:

1. Assess your needs:  what does your Main Street need?  To fill up empty storefronts, facade and signage improvements?  Traffic calming?
2. Go visit other towns with successful Main Streets.  What worked for them that can work for you?
3. Put flower boxes on every corner.  You'll need a good Flower committee to do this.  We collect a special downtown tax to finance our flower program.
4. Get your Chamber of Commerce behind you to pursue business attraction to Main Street.
5. Establish guidelines for buildings.  No building on our Main Street can be taller than 100 feet, which is the height of the courthouse dome.
6. from the author:  Form an active, grassroots revitalization group, utilize technical assistance from your state's Main Street program and from the National level.

Organizations that provide technical assistance and guidelines for Main Streets:

In North Carolina:  North Carolina Main Street Center

National level: National Trust for Historic Preservation

Photography credit: the photographs of the Hendersonville Main Street murals are courtesy of the Henderson County Genealogical and Historical Society.  The original murals are located in the History Center, 400 North Main Street, Hendersonville, North Carolina.

About the author...

Patricia Frank loves small towns. She's also the editor and publisher of Vibrant Village.  Whenever she can, she likes to visit and profile special towns that have achieved something wonderful.

Remember me? I was there.

Yesterday we went to see the sea, riding the see-saw of the ferry from Harkers Island over to Cape Lookout National Seashore.

The sea spanked us as the boat thumped from the wham of the waves.  As land and human habitation faded away, other lives revealed themselves.

Two shaggy little horses, standing on a hammock in hock-deep sea faced us, frozen statues, nostrils flaring to test whether we were friend or foe.  The cinnamon-colored stallion stood with legs firmly planted, his blond mane and tail lifting in the fresh wind.  Wild and free, clearly he was not a horse of the pasture, hay and grain but a true sea-horse, eating of the marsh grass, with unkempt coat, his ribs faintly outlined on his slender body.  Bridle, bit, saddle nor spurs had marred his body or broken his spirit.  No servant of man, this sea-horse was free-horse of sea, sky, wind and waves.

There were pelicans, too. These graceful masters of  air current, gliders supreme, made us laugh as their grace turned into clumsy kerplumps of splash into the water in their fetching of fish. A lone cormorant came flapping by, flapping slowly, laboring, seeming out of the ancient past, a bit of the Terradactyl in its shadowy darkness.

Smells of land and man dropped away, the scent now of salt air and salt marsh. Elemental aromas, these, perhaps a window into our earliest past when we first crawled from the sea onto land.  Is this why the sea calls to us?  Have our cells been imprinted with memories of when we, too, had gills and fins?

Our ferry draws up to the dock and we unload our gear, shoulder the backpack and beach umbrella. We amble down the long, wooden walkway to the sea.  The quiet is complete.  No cars, sirens, powered lawn equipment, saws or dogs bark.

We choose a spot with a dune to lean against.  Alan plants the umbrella anchor and twists it into the sand.  He slants the umbrella into the wind and we place the beach towels for maximum shade. I unpack our picnic provisions.

The whole-grain bread is slathered with honey dill-mustard, the pungent Asiago cheese and ruby-ripe tomatoes are cut and piled on the waiting bread.  I  slice each sandwich neatly in two.  We chew while sea-gazing.  Seasoned with a light dusting of sand, our meal is a bit crunchy, but no matter, it is after all, called “sandwich.”

We open the tube of  potato chips and ingest salt.  Must have salt by the sea, it's crucial, or so it seems to me.

Chewing and gazing, we're lost in time and place.

It all drills down to the sea.  No need for words, only the warmth of the welcome sun, so long absent through the winter.  The rhythm of the surf, regular as a heartbeat, soothing, quieting my mind, my thoughts floating as gently and aimlessly as the wind-blown sea-smoke. No deadlines, no to-do list.  No oughts or shoulds.  For today, we have vacated.  For today, we are on a vacation. The sea whispers in the background, “relax.”

Replete and sleepy, my husband, Alan, lays down, places his canvas hat over his eyes and is gone away into his Alan-world.  I lean back against the dune, opening the pages of a book about a beach house owned by five generations of a Boston family, self-described by the author as 'Boston Brahmin's'—the upper crust of old New England Boston society.  This is a perfect beach book, describing as it does, along with family, the sea-scape of the rocky Cape Cod shore of Buzzard's Bay.

I lift my eyes from the book and look out to sea, a clear band of what color shall I call this sea in front of me?  Cerulean?  Neither turquoise nor navy, today the changeling sea's a rich broth of blue-green, reflecting the cloudless sky.  No rocks here.  No family drama or weathered beach house.  Only our little island of beach towels and green and white striped umbrella.

In the distance, four young people, coupled by twos, do their ritual Spring courting dance of girls being lifted and threatened to be thrown into the still cold sea.  Their feigned squeals of dismay drift back to us.

Oh, how perfect are their young bodies, as lean and leggy as the sea-horses we'd earlier seen. Yes, I remember when I was so, too, flat-stomached and Alan all slender sinew and muscle.  Now both of us have grown round and ripe, matured with life and Asiago cheese. No matter, it's the wheel of life turning round. Roundness is fine.

I awaken Alan, softly snoring, and invite him on a beach walk.  We rise, fighting gravity's pull and off we go.

We walk by the surf fishers, we walk by the prone bodies basting, covered with oil, and turning pink and red.   We walk far to where it is just us, beyond the people.  Just us and the sea and sand and sky and the sandpipers doing their quick dance with the surf, legs in motion in a quick step of blur.

And I turn to Alan, remembering.  Remembering our honeymoon by the sea in Cape Cod.  Our ramshackle rental in Provincetown at Capt. Jack's Wharf, fishermen shanties turned into rentals, built out over the sea on a pier. At high tide, the sea came lapping under our weathered and worn silver-boarded room.  Using a pulley on a block and tackle, we could open the whole front to the elements. And there was a loft with a skylight.  Underneath the skylight was a bed just right for cloud gazing—and honeymooners.

Remembering, I open my arms to Alan and he comes to me.  We come close for a kiss,  and just as our lips meet, Alan suddenly gives a yelp and leaps into the air and we look down and the sea has found us and Alan's feet, encased in sock and boat shoes are deep in sea water and my bare feet, too, are immersed in the cold lapping of the ocean.

We laugh.  It seems the sea recalls those early days of ours- could it really be forty years ago?-and has said, 'remember me?  I was there, too.  And here I am again. I'm always with you.'

Yesterday, we went to the sea.  Yesterday, the sea came to us.  It was good to embrace an old friend.

Patricia Frank loves words and uses them whenever she can.  She's also the editor and publisher of Vibrant Village, an on-line magazine that celebrates the best of small town America.

love as comfortable as favorite shoes

If art and scenic landscapes inspire you, you're going to want to step into the scene in Boerne, Texas (population 10,283, elevation 1,421 feet, median home cost  is $172,720).

Beautiful Boerne -30 minutes NW of San Antonio - earns our MVV (Most Vibrant Village Award) for its bountiful creativity and natural beauty.This lively town boasts a bustling art scene.

Ride the trolley to beauty

Boerne showcases both local and global artists every second Saturday when art patrons hop aboard a red and green trolley and go gallery to gallery.  Laughter and art go hand-in-hand during this popular monthly event.

One creative artful event celebrates the town's creativity by including man, woman, child and beast.  The Boerne Dance Festival & Arts and Crafts Bazaar features a dance festival, local foods and vendors, a mini-carnival for kids, and a pet adoption.

That's what we call imaginative—and inclusive—multi-tasking. Bonus points for helping lonely animals find homes.

Happily located in the Texas Hill Country, the backdrop includes rolling hills, majestic oaks, caves, streams, and rivers.  The appealing Cibolo Nature Preserve's right in town. Walks along the stream bank are special.

Want more space? You'll find it thirteen miles east of Boerne. Here you'll discover 1,900 acres of inspiring Hill Country landscapes with the clear cypress-edged river flowing over natural rapids.

Natural pleasures are many--camp, fish,  hike, canoe and picnic, feeling as though you've stepped into a Monet painting.  While cloud-gazing, keep a look-out for the rare golden-cheeked warbler.  The bird sings merrily away (as do those Boerne residents fortunate enough to have been born here or have newly discovered  this vibrant Texas village).

Some flowers require much care,
pruning and cautious watering,
delicate and tempermental,
prone to fail if not coddled,
hothouse blooms.

But not our friendship-
it grows lush like a weed,
wild and free and strong
prevailing, winters well,
always there; perennial.

My daughter gently pushed
the pink balloon
through my line of vision,

breaking the connection
between my eyes
and the mundane downtown scene.

(it had become so in my use of it to withdraw)

My daughter knows me.

She doesn’t know
how well.

Mommy, look at the sun through the balloon.

I cannot describe how everything changed,
but suddenly
it was easier.

(this poem is from a contributor who wishes to be anonymous)

Creating a work of art takes creativity and an eye for beauty--and sometimes the vision of one gifted individual who encourages and inspires others.

Fairhope, Alabama (population 16,618, elevation 23, median home price $223,900).

Legend says Fairhope got its name from the 1894 settlers who thought the town had a 'fair hope' of success.  They came seeking a new utopia.  The founding dream of Fairhope has once again come true, but it hasn't always been so.

Despite its pretty Mobile Bay front setting, this resort community's star had become a bit tarnished  by the 1970's. But fate—and hard work—had another destiny in mind for Fairhope.  The  determination and enlightened leadership of  Mayor James P. Nix polished up Fairhope's star and today this pretty town shines brightly once more.

Elected to office for seven terms, Mayor Nix and the townspeople demonstrated what vision and can-do spirit can accomplish.

Today, this friendly village is once again a strong draw for new settlers from near and far.

Visitors, too, arrive to enjoy the vibrant mix of retail, waterfront strolls, and gracious hospitality. Enlivened by talented artisans and writers, the Fairhope community sparkles with creativity.

This new vitality proves there's more than 'Fair hope' for success when a course is plotted with a steady hand on the helm--and supported by a boatload of talented crew members.

We like towns -- and people -- who believe in their communities and demonstrate sheer grit and determination. Fair Hope gleams with renewed vitality.

Blown a bit off course for a bit, Fairhope has steered a new course to bountiful success—and thereby earns her MVV (Most Vibrant Village) star from Vibrant Village.

Ah, Spring and poetry!  They seem such a joyous, perfect fit.

This hopeful season of tender green shoots and new bloom has long inspired poets to praise the season with delicious words.

Were you among the school children who were required to memorize a certain poem by A.E. Housman?  Remember how the boys groaned when forced to recite it, but we girls, perhaps more  romantic, didn't seem to mind?  Today, as they have over the years, the lines still come to my mind with the first exultant blooms of April:

Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Later on, in college, I was introduced to the poetry of ee cummings, that sensually romantic bard who created his own form of punctuation and capitalization, and who wrote of Spring with such playful words:

“in Just-
spring       when the world is mud-
luscious ...and it's
spring...
when the world is puddle-wonderful”

“Mud-luscious,” “puddle-wonderful”-- cummings makes words so much fun.

Emily Dickinson, sequestered away in her room,  knew well about Spring fever.  In fact, Ms. Dickinson even gave us permission to embrace it.  She felt it was fine to be caught in its grip:

A little Madness in the Spring

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown --
Who ponders this tremendous scene --
This whole Experiment of Green --

But some poets take an opposing direction and delve into a darker emotion. One poet, in particular, views Spring differently.  That's okay, for poetry grants us the latitude to express all our emotions.  Still, this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay unsettles me every time I read her words:

Old Burying Ground, Beaufort, NC

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

But let's depart from the cynical (and set aside wondering what sadness could have so engraved her spirit) and return to the lighter side of Spring. For those of us who are unrepentant romantics (and who isn't in tenderest Spring?), Lucy Maud Montgomery paints the allure of Spring so prettily:

Spring Song

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.

In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river's orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.

Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.

Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills.

Ours shall be the moonrise stealing
Through the birches ivory-white;
Ours shall be the mystic healing
Of the velvet-footed night.

Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true.
As if it were his own!

With the coming of Spring, do you feel the sap rising?  Delmore Schwartz did when he wrote “Lucky earth, let out of school”:

The Spring
(After Rilke)

Spring has returned! Everything has returned!
The earth, just like a schoolgirl, memorizes
Poems, so many poems. ... Look, she has learned
So many famous poems, she has earned so many prizes!

Teacher was strict. We delighted in the white
Of the old man's beard, bright like the snow's:
Now we may ask which names are wrong, or right
For "blue," for "apple," for "ripe." She knows, she knows!

Lucky earth, let out of school, now you must play
Hide-and-seek with all the children every day:
You must hide that we may seek you: we will! We will!

The happiest child will hold you. She knows all the things
You taught her: the word for "hope," and for "believe,"
Are still upon her tongue. She sings and sings and sings.

Finally, let us go, you and I, and walk the new green fields and gardens adorned with those nodding heads of liquid sunshine, the brave daffodils, happy harbingers of Spring.  And who better to lead the way than wonderful William...Wordsworth, that is.  But let's follow him at a distance and respect his solitude, this poet who spurns wolves and dances with daffodils instead:

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

This Spring, dear reader, I wish you many happy dances with your daffodils. The earth warms, awaiting your hands and the sweet promise of newly-planted seeds.

Will you also grow some words about Spring?   Should you be drawn to do so, share your efforts with us. Next month, in May, they just might flower and take root right here.

Patricia Frank loves words and uses them whenever she can.  She's also the editor and publisher of Vibrant Village.

Historic riverfront towns often sparkle with a certain raffish allure. Maybe that's why wee Augusta, Kentucky's Ohio River setting is so darn appealing. Just ask actor George Clooney, who owns a home here. As did his aunt, Rosemary Clooney.

You can see Mr. Clooney's high school football jersey and other memorabilia at Aunt Rosemary's home where she came to retreat from her world-wide singing performances. Ms. Clooney's home is now open to the public and maintained as a nostalgia-filled salute to the famous singer.

The Clooney warm hospitality is so fitting—after all, one of Ms. Clooney's 1950's hits was Come On-my House.

Augusta's pretty setting was found to be perfect for another famous person—Mark Twain's Huck Finn. Disney used Augusta as the setting for their Huck Finn film. Today, Augusta proves a wonderful place for modern-day Huck Finns.

Lively conversations also bubble forth aboard one of the colorful stern wheeler river boats, and a goodly selection of eclectic dining  establishments make sure each modern Huck  has a happy tummy. Visitors will find dining at The Augusta General Store, the venerable Beehive Tavern overlooking the Ohio River, Parkview Country Inn and the Bravo Cafe.

Summertime brings the lively Riverfest Regatta & Art Festival (2010 dates:July 23- July 25) which showcases both art and river craft.

Augusta has woven riverside magic since the 1790's and she still does today. Vibrant Village gives Augusta the nod for their grace in preserving their exciting river town heritage while stepping forward with artful gusto.

For more information, contact: City of Augusta tourism