Not exactly a knitting column, this, but rather an ongoing photo essay about my town, Durham, North Carolina.
This column is about chimneys. Chimneys, for the most part, are a tool of the past, with little purpose these days beyond lending us an atavistic sense of comfort.
We have some great ones in my neighborhood.
Some chimneys tell us about the history of Durham's defunct industry--tobacco.
These old tobacco curing warehouses are now restaurants and boutiques. ("Brightleaf" is a breed of tobacco.)
Here are two houses on the corner of my street. First, a Spanish Mission Colonial style with a to-die-for green tile roof.
And second, a grand old lady of Durham, an early-20th-century bungalow. I love the half-moon window on the third floor.
Our house is the goofy step-child of the neighborhood, which suits us fine, since we get really great stuff at yard sales.