Tiitring thp f?*ll br^sk,
students representing all four de
partments at NCSA were privileged to
be the guests of Mr. and Mrs. James
ClarWe at th^ir farm in Fairview, N.
n. Tbose attending were Laurie . nn-
dolf, Lynn Hedrick, Tina Menzies,^
l^arbara Hanson, Tom Ca\^ano, Richard
Buckley, Gordon Minard, Charles Van-
derpool, and yours truly, and accom
panied by Tom Kenan of the Board of
Trustees.
Perched on the side of a high
mountain. Hickory Nut Crop Farm is a
beautiful old stagecoach irn dating
back around two centuries. The ^3rm
itself consists of the l-uge inn; a
smaller house where the housekeeper
and cook, Nanny, lives; another
small house occupied by the Clarke’s
oldest daughter; several outb'tild-
Lngs including a spring house;
stables for the six horses; and
other buildings housing livestock.
There is a large apple orchard, a
dairy, and several acres of farmland
woods, and rolling fields. By .ir-
tue of the many foods supplied bv
the farm itself, the place is virtu
ally self-supporting.
Arriving in a heavy snow around
iuppertime, the students were greet
ed by Mrs. Clarke, a warm and per
sonable individual who smokes a
’pipe. After being shown to their
various quarters, everyone retired
to the living room, enjoying tea and
fire in the huge fireplace. (The
whole farm is heated primar/Yy^ by
these fireplaces which are founu in
almost every room.) After much tea
and more converGaticu, dinner was
served in the dining room next door.
The dishes provided arc too numerous
to list, but the menu v;as headed by
a twenty-pound perk roast which was
almost tOL-.ally devoured. Tlie meal
was ample denonstration of Nanny's
culinary ability and set the tone
for the fare to be enjoyed during
the rest of the visit.
After supper, the group gather
ed gradually in the study, a small
booklined room where there was fur
ther conversation and entertainment
by some of the students. A few,
however, as a result of excessive
eating, remained relatively inr^tive
for a time, contenting themselves
with simply absorbing the a.lmost un
believable atmosphere of the farm
until bedtime.
By a prearranged agreement,
about seven the next morning, sever
al adventuresome individuals arose
early for a pre-breakfast ride on
horseback through the sno7. After a
very cold but thoro'ighly invigorat
ing ride around the side of the
mountain, everyone gathorod in the
dining roo.?. for breakfast. Anfitn a
hearty meal was waiting, ii. lu'^'^g
this student into such a state of
Paee 4
A. T. . . . . _ t • 1
Ulicxi. lic i^OLiaLiititlU
five eggs, bacon, coffee, orange
iulce, and milk. (It should be not
ed here that the result of such eat
ing was a gdia of sIa pounds, a rare
accomplishin'eiit, indeed!)
LaLer in the morning, the rest
of the group gilded themselves for
the weather and sallied forth on the
horses for their own go at the horse
trails. During this period, Lynn
Hedrick, Tom Cavano, Richard Buckley
and yours truly again spent an hour
pressing four gallons of apple cider
on an old hand turned press. This
was distributed among the students
upon leaving, with gentle admoni
tions against allowing it to become
a little too tart. After a large
lunch, most members of the group
proceeded to their respective quar
ters for a brief rest, which for
more than one became a rather ex
tended nap. Others, more vigorous
oerhaps, rode to a neighboring farm
to play basketball in i hay loft.
Yes, basketball.
Late in the afternoon, when the
somnolent ones 'woke, ’■Ir. CV'^^'ke,
who had been away previously, re
turned to meet the students and,
over dinner, discuss many of the
issues and problems plaguing the
minds of the students at the School
of the Arts. Following sunper, the
entire household joined together in
the music room to sing hymns, a past
(oon't on page 5)
December 9, 1968
The N. G. Esiay
by Lynn B&m.hca’d
V, v.>
rbMENT k
The sea laps at the rocky
shoreline, the fog horn droans
on Half-Way Rock, ten miles out
in the bay. I stand on Deer Point
listening because there is nothing
to see beyond my own outstretched
hand.- Remants of a seagull's
feast litter the premices and
crunch under my feet.. Crouching
down, I peer into the gurgling
rcrey depths; a hypnotic rhythm
graps ray attention as grey waves
sl^")D seaweed against a stoney grey
shore. Accenting nature's still
ness is the clumsy clanging of
’onsf^en bellbuoys spotted about the
bay. I sigh, shuddering as I rise.
The air, heavy with salt, is clammy
and- leaves me shivering despite a
heavy jswealei. aud raincoat. Fick-
ing up a suavlu>^ of ruck, I send it
skipping across the water, and when
it has disappeared, I turn and
walk away.
M
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