Walking in the south on November 12, 2013 

  It’s different.  Belhaven, NC was the first view.  The porched houses with grand staircases are the signature architectural elements there. Here, in Southport, NC a bit bigger town, the houses smaller, a few more stores, art and clothes boutiques, a giant toy store, Bull Frog Corner, and jewelry stores line N. Howe Street

  I felt like I was on the set of “To Kill A Mockingbird” on historic W. West Street that crosses Howe and then becomes E. West Street.  This historic street is lined by dated homes with names on them:  Jacob Brinkman1839, the only pre-Civil War home, Jones Burriss 1875, T. Dosher 1890, Phillips Aldrich 1905, Robert T. Woodside House 1903, Will Davis River Pilot 1891.  Still no swimming pools are in the yards.  Near the shore everyone goes to the beach I guess.  It is not the historic district designation because none of the homes we walk by have pools even a mile away.

   Without the oppressive summer heat that was the setting in the movie, the live oaks are still here arching over the sidewalks and streets providing a shady tunnel.  No change for fall color or dropping of leaves.  They are here perfect for climbers and ready for animal nests, yet I only see three squirrel nests high up.   I know at10 I would have climbed every one with their sprawling branches that spread out 50 feet over the street with the trunk planted in the yard. The camera can’t capture it. Perfect for a tree fort, but none here.  The streets are quieted and blanketed by the tent of live oak branches shading the way.  They were made for southern weather as a natural air conditioner.  No Spanish moss.  Maybe my South Carolina walk will have that added air plant as I get to more humid weather. 

  “Can you believe it’s supposed to get down to 30 here tonight?” Drew says.  And just now the wind picks up howling to bring in the new cool air.  We pass one of the dock hands as he leaves in the 5:00 dark.  Friendly as always he says, “We jes as soon skip these cole fall days.  I like fall but not this. Night now.”  

  At the boat helm I turn on the wind instruments to see how the wind has gone from 0 at the beginning of our evening walk at 4:30 to 25 howling knots now in the dark.  The boat is rolling in the slip and Drew puts on extra fenders and lines.  One lone boat rigging is clanging against its mast.   This is nothing, I think, compared to what a nor’easter can bring up the coast.

   Tomorrow we pack up to go back to New England and the cold north where snow has fallen already, and the temperature is about 32 rather than the 70 we feel here today.  We’ll be back.