After Atlanta we’re off to Chapel HIll. And after the deluge of beautiful scenery (the drive from Chatanooga to Atlanta through the southern Appalachians is truly majestic) we now endure seemingly endless miles of tree-lined corridors with no clue as to what’s on the other side. It’s just like Mississippi’s miles of pines except these are mostly deciduous. After a stop promising PEACHES but delivering instead a half-gallon of white peach cider, peach ice cream and apple (?) butter, we careen on into South Carolina and out the other side without a clue about what that state might have to offer. Whatever it was, it didn’t offer us any.
We’re watching weather ahead as we pass into North Carolina, and it delivers just as we arrive in Carrboro, where the venue actually is. We snake through a downpour in rush hour traffic and arrive safely at Cat’s Cradle right on time. The rain takes a break, we load in and wander off in search of supper. Fish and chips here feature actual cod, instead of pollock, and I grab some, while admiring the new CDs, some of which have met us here at Cat’s Cradle. Delicious, and the food was good, too.
Back at Cat’s Cradle, we discover our long-suffering groupie, Margaret Underwood, has arrived along with an entourage of family and friends. She’s a delight, coming from a folk music performance history and with an accent you could spread on bread. We have a good visit, not long enough, and deliver the show to a very kind and appreciative audience. We linger awhile after the show getting to know new friends and telling tales, then pack up and head for lodgings graciously provided by another of Margaret’s friends. Margaret has also brought fresh peaches, tomatoes from her garden and a couple of jars of North Carolina peanuts, and we enjoy an unusual but splendid breakfast and head out, this time for Washington, D.C.