“I needed punk music to understand myself as a queer person”: a reflective McEntire in North Carolina, July 2020
Photo by HEATHER EVANS SMITH
“I CAN see the Eno from here.” Sitting on her couch with two dogs at her feet, Heather Cecelia McEntire cranes her neck and peers out of the window to the vast lawn and garden outside and to the slow-flowing Eno River just beyond. “I live on top of a small hill, and I can see the pond that feeds the Eno. It’s an easy jaunt down there. I take my dog Lou for walks down by the bridge most days. This house is surrounded by state parks, so everything is green and lush.”
Situated at the end of a long gravel road, McEntire’s house is only a 15-minute drive from downtown Durham, North Carolina, but it’s so secluded that she could be in the middle of the country. She spends most of her days outdoors, either down by the river, writing songs on her porch or tending the impressive garden of chard, cucumbers, tomatoes, broccoli and green beans. “I can’t seem to get okra off the ground,” she says with a sigh. “That is just a shame to all my friends.”