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Hilton Head WineFest, looking for "legs" and "tasting rain off a slate roof"

Cant believe it but once again, Hilton Head WineFest is happening this Saturday. It is billed as the largest outdoor wine tasting event on the East Coast and it marks the heralding of Spring in the Carolina Lowcountry.....

I have been a "Fest" purveyor of sorts of the grapey concoction for many years and have poured many a "taste". And to me, that is where the fun came in...watching the taster as they picked up their commemorative glass cleansed with water from one of my crystal pitchers and put it to their lips. The drinker that didn't have a clue about wine but was having fun would simply would "down"  the sucker and say "Man this Daufuskie wine sure is good, smile kindly and ask for a refill.... at which time I would fill the glass to the top and say "bottoms up" which they would cheerfully acknowledge and go on their merry way. Now that was my kind of wine taster and quite frankly my kind of guy/gal.

And then there were the wine writers that have received some sort of paper called a master sommelier certificate and are working toward a Certified Wine Educator Degree or whatever. Even more interesting to watch are the Judges of the event that wear these little tags around their neck that simpy say "Judge". When they walk up to the booth they kind of have an "air" about them and even without their wine tags bobbing about I can spot them three booths away. Now they take this taste of "The Dew" from South Carolina's first licensed winery serious, to say the least,  but it is in my personality to have some fun with them. Sooo, rather than putting a small taste of wine in the glass I fill-er to the brink. Ya see, this hinders them from the first stage of tasting, swirling the wine in the glass to see if it has what they call "legs". Now if they wanted to see legs they should of stayed home and watched old Tina Turner re-runs. Now this lack of being able to oogle the wines legs throws them all of kilter, but they will prevail in their predetermined task. With fingers placed strategically on the glass's stem they raise "The Dew" to their discretely puckered lips  and with distorted faces that remind me of sucking a lemon they gently seem to inhale the poor grape right out of the glass....and then comes the awful sucking swirly sounds  that remind me of emptying the bottom of a chocolate milkshake with a straw as they whisk the wine in their jowls....now If this sound were to occur from the human anatomy anywhere else in the public domain they would be surely be arrested for disorderly conduct....And now comes the much awaited comment we have all been waiting for. From the mouth of the sommelier that just "Tasted The Dew" I hear pontificating blurbs such as this....Ahh... this wine has all the flavors of a classic Cabernet Savignon full of zest and clean slate rain....Say what...clean slate rain...now this is where I am holding back folks...you know from one of those belly laughs where you slap your leg...when is the last time you tasted rain runoff that came off a clean slate roof...but the best is yet to come...Ahhh the aroma fills the nose, and sommeliers always seem to have superb ones, and the flavors come in waves like an oncoming Spring tide....flavors that are sweet and tart with herbaceous "notes"...and here is where I though I was at a wine tasting and not a music concert...silly me. So with the job at hand done, they make their way to the next booth  looking for those legs they have so surely missed.

Sadly, this year I will not be in my allotted booth to pour a taste of "The Dew".....and yes, I will miss my wine fans that faithfully search out the Silver Dew tent knowing their glass would  be filled to the brim. But if you happen to see me laughing hysterically somewhere  in the Lowcountry on Saturday for no apparent reason, its not because old LCJoe has gone off his proverbial rocker. Its  only because I have visions of a Judge seriously telling me my wine somehow has the tatse and zest of clean slate runoff  rain.

See ya on a warm Spring tide.

LowCountry Joe

I had an Aunt Hanna Once....

Yes Sir re....I had an Aunt Hanna once. Actually she wasn't really an Aunt but a sweet lady that would always offer her farmhouse porch rockers which was conveniently located near the school bus stop. And yes...there was always an ample supply of fresh made cookies on hand and in the Fall real juicy red apples from her tree.  Well Aunt Hanna has been long gone but the fond memories will always be there. Hopefully that will be the case with Hanna the Tropical storm/Hurricane. As evidenced by the included pic forecast tracks show Hanna will be staying to our East. Now I do expect some weather and maybe she still might pay us a visit but it will be brief. There wont be any cookies left but water will be prevelant...Ohh...and I would be inconsiderate not to mention I already had a Hanna Family visit a few days ago. Keith Hanna, Bloody Point Property owner,  and his wonderful family spent last weekend on our fair Island. And on top of it all...I had nother lovely family stop by my office last week at the Silver Dew Winery and the cute little curly haired, blue eyed girl's name was ...you guessed it...Hanna.....

So as you can see....I have been blessed with a plethora of wonderful Hannas.....and a fine experience it has been. I just hope a plethora of Ikes and Josephines dont show up.....

See ya on the high tide.

lowCountry Joe

A "Chance Alligator Encounter" of a "Beachy" Kind

A fine early morning, it was, on the 4th of August, as old LowCountry Joe embarked on his morning "power walk" on the pristine beaches of Daufuskie Island. As the sun broke  over Hilton Head's South Beach and reflected in the slow breaking waves, the high tide forced Joe closer than normal to Melrose's eight foot high wood piling seawall. It was there that he was to have "A Chance Alligator Encounter of a "Beachy" kind, a spiritual and physical awaking, if you will.

Now one might expect to have a "chance critter encounter" on a golf course as one seeks out an errant drive that tried to make it into a lagoon, but on the Atlantic beach as day breaks is another matter. But that's exactly what happened. As the white bearded/wide brim hatted figure quickly came around a point in the seawall, at a surprisingly fast pace for an old guy, there directly in front of him and blocking his path, was a fine upstanding South Carolina alligator with jaws wide open . As Joe tells it, it was at that time the spiritual and physical awaking happened. It seems that with his own jaw wide open he miraculously scaled that old seawall, "straight up" in "nothing flat" saying  something about "His Saviour" in the process.

Now if you happen to know Joe you would quickly understand he would not let this wall scaling experience pass him by. Word is he looked down at that fine gator from the confines and relative safety of his lofty perch and through bursts of gut wrenching laughter yelled "Nah Nah Nan Nah Nah" you can't get me now you piece of unmitigated shoe leather....at which time the gator ungratefully made some kind of a muted grunt and slithered off into the surf.

Now one must wonder if there is a moral to this story. Probably ain't. But it does go to show you that old guys bodies can sometimes do amazing things without any kind of enhancement or pills. That scaling high buildings in a single bound, or in this case, scale seawalls, is not out of the question and that in life sometimes you never know whats around the corner.

See ya on the high tide....

Proud to be an American....Proud to be a Daufuskie-an

I watched CNN in disbelief yesterday morning when it was reported that some small town Politican somewhere in this good old US of A decided to cancel the towns fireworks because of cost. The "talking CNN heads" were having a "field day" with this guy that was quoted as saying "I believe I made the right decision". Well...Well....Mr. Politician I am here to heartily disagree with your "right decision"  to take the "Spirit of American Patriotism and Independence away from true Americans because of a few dollars.

I wish I could have "time traveled" those poor folks from that town to Daufuskie Island last night. There on our pristine beaches they could have experienced a fireworks display of amazing proportions lighting up the Lowcountry sky. As a fingernail moon rose over the Palmetto trees bursts of color lit up the faces of folks of young and old alike as they arched their necks oohing and aahing as shell after shell bursting in midair. With each boom, whizzle and shrilled shriek folks in the "cat bird seats" 3rd floor Sandy Lane condos and perched atop a Funky Fuskie bus screamed and applauded with true appreciation. Flags flew, light sticks adorned necks, hats, clothing and the occasional "pooch" as the pride and spirit of being an American warmed the hearts and souls of the assembled merrymakers.

It all started in unison with Harbortown' first mighty bursts but long after the alloted fifteen minutes or so of a "programmed Hilton Head performance" were History, Daufuskie volunteers with red glowing flares dazzled the 300+ crowd. For almost three hours...with an actual intermission and DJ, shell bursts  called "High Octane"..."Taste of Heat" and "TNT" exploded sending multicolored reflections over the casual waves of an in-coming tide. As word spread, golf carts, pick up trucks and assorted vehicles loaded to the hilt with beach chairs and coolers flocked to the white sand. It was truly a sight to behold.

This morning I got up early and walked down to the beach to help clean up any wayward trash. To my amazement Daufuskie volunteers had already "arrived and left" and not a Budweiser beer can or fireworks funnel was to be found. It was like it never happened...like it was some sort of spiritual mystical event....but I knew different. Sitting on an old weathered log with coffee cup in hand I stared out towards Tybee Lighthouse and reminded myself of how lucky I was to live in such a special place. A place with neighbors like Stewart that worked feverish asking for donations from one and all so this unique and truly patriotic spectacle could take place. And Mr. Politician from somewhere..it all took  place merely with donations...from just ordinary folks that take pride in their Country and in their community. Yes, last night made me "Proud to be an "American" and "Proud to be a Daufuskie-an".

See ya on the high tide..

LowCountry Joe

The 4th of July

I find myself on this 4th of July sitting in the Historic Silver Dew Winery on the mystical Island of Daufuskie. And as of 2:30 this afternoon I must say it has been a super fun experience. Folks from literally all over the world stop by...intrigued by The Winery structure itself I guess....but also eager to hear about Lighthouse Keeper Papy Burn and the building made famous by Pat Conroy in his monumental book  "The Water is Wide". I am alway obliged to tell the story even though I have told it zillions of times before...... simply because it needs to be told.

And there is not a a better day than our Independence Day to relay the story of Papy Burn, Lighthouse Keeper, Daufuskie Magistrate, Taxidermist and most notably, The first licensed vintner of wine in South Carolina. Papy spent forty Independence days in this magnificent structure greeting, just locals back then,  and giving them a taste of his now famous Silver Dew. Now I greet "passers by".....and give them "A Taste of the Dew" and portray a  "snippet" of what life was like "back then" when the world was a much simpler place. I pontificate on how wine was made out of "fixins", things like peaches and pears that would easily ferment, and how Strom Thurmond, Papy's dear friend would visit on the 4th of July and how they would discuss timely political events.

So have a great 4th of July folks.....and if ya have a bit of time please stop by The Winery for a chat.

See Ya on the high tide...

LowCountry Joe

Fridays are for "Fun" ...Mooooooooo/Ouch

It's Friday once again and time for another bit of "Friday Fun Pontification" from old LCJoe.

And this Friday's "fun" comes compliments of today's Island Packet front page article "Heading to the Beach"......The copy is bottom left with a relatively small headline, but when one continues on at page 4A the copy is HUGE AND OMINOUS.....NUMBER OF STINGRAY STINGS UP SLIGHTLY ON ISLAND....and in smaller body copy...."24 stings this week".

Now one might wonder how you could have "fun" being stung/pierced by a relative of the creature that killed the "crocodile hunter"........  But the whole "fun"  part is/is if you want your whole weekend on HHI to be "fun" ya might want to consider "watchin out" for Cownose stingrays lurking in the water right off the beach. Now these cownose stingrays don't go Moo like cows from Ohio but they do "sting". Well actually "sting" is not the proper word considering the fact that these particular stingrays with a cow name have big old sharp barbs on their behinds not tails that are continually in motion swatting flies.  And just when you are having "fun" romping in the waves you step on this little fellow and he/she says mooooo, I guess,  and then as a passing gesture sticks his/her sharp serrated barb deep into your foot. Now comes the good part as noted by some retired Marine scientist....."the spear like tip of the barb punctures the victim, then the serrations cut the flesh in the opposite direction when removed". Yowzahhhhhh and Ouchhhhheroooniiii.

But thanks to the Packet we do have a medical remedy for this "piercing pickle" you have found yourself in. The pain will be intense so a hot water compress should be applied ASAP. Considering that fact that you probably don't have  a "hot water compress" handy in your beach bag find the closest "hard bodied" lifeguard and he/she can fix you up with high teck self activated heat pack.  Apply it to the affected area and make a bee line to the Tiki hut and "down" two double vodka tonics. I understand that is the ultimate remedy for jellyfish stings so it should help in this case as well and if nothing else, it will make you feel like you are having fun.

So have a "Fun Friday" watching out for those "moo creatures" and a "fun time" on some of the finest beaches on the East Coast....

See ya on the high tide....

LowCountry Joe

Drunk Woodpeckers

My favorite blogger, Teresa Boardman, way up there in St. Paul Minnesota has a favorite saying on each of her Friday blogs...."Fridays are for fun"....So if I may steal her thunder for a day, lets get away from the doldrums of high gas prices, the whining of the negative Liberal press and "who shot who" today......and lets have some fun and talk  about  the antics of "drunk woodpeckers".

That's right, the crazy antiques of  drunk woodpeckers better know in this particular scenario as "Dryocopus Pileatus" better know as the "Pileated Woodpecker". Now one must understand that Woody Woodpecker...the "all time" King/Queen of woodpeckers was "dreamed up" by some dude out there in bird land and was inspired to create Woody in particular. Now I have watched a lot of Woody Woodpecker cartoons in my life but I never did see one "tipsy". So what a "delight" I had this Friday morning when four (4)...yes I said four (4) of the third largest woodpeckers know to exist descended on my humongous Palmetto tree right next to Daufuskie Island's Historic  Silver Dew Winery and devour every Palmetto berry in sight. Now this might come as a surprise to my Northern friends, but Palmetto trees do sprout berries....big old dark ones that are obviously a "rare treat" for my red pecker headed friends. And these berries obviously ferment just like the wine Papy Burn made in the Winery. And just like folks that drank Papy's wine they got a little goofy.

Now we all know how a "mortal being" acts when they drink a little to much wine. That's why the cops have this sobriety test and have you try and walk a straight line while looking straight ahead. Its impossible!!! But then consider the fact that these birds ain't walkin'.....they are flyin'....and they are flying between trees,  big trees, old Carolina Lob-lolly pines and live oaks with their big old limbs spreading everywhere just waitin' to "catch a beak".

And beaks they did catch. Screachin' and chattering' feathers were flyin' as Woody's cousins had the time of their life. Like jets in an air show their daredevil antics found them goin' straight up.....sideways and in some cases straight down. The show went on for about an hour and had me in tears. They were simply having fun on Friday knowing the local Daufuskie Sheriff couldn't have caught them if he wanted to.

And soon they were gone, as fast as they arrived, into the hinterlands to find, I would expect a big old hole in a tree and nurse what would surely be a hurtin' red crested head. I was sad to see them go, because they brought intense humor to my life. Its been a while since I laughed that hard and made me realize why its so important to realize that  "Fridays Are For Fun".

See ya on the high tide....

LowCountry Joe

www.WeBeBloggin.com

"A Little Bit of Water in Your Wine"

A" Little Bit of Water in Your Wine"......Ahhhh Yes.....It could be a distinct possibility at Hilton Head's WineFest  tomorrow....but after a check with the folks out there at Weather Underground and the weather prognosticators at The Weather Channel I think the Wine God's might be with us. And quite frankly how bad could it be if we had some liquid precipitation tomorrow and you got a little water in your wine.

I vividly remember pouring water in my Priest's Wine as a young Alter-boy many moons ago. But it never seemed to bother Father Richard,  actually I think he kind of liked it. But I always wondered why that was part of the ceremony...The wine was just fine as it was....I know because that's how I got introduced to "the grape", discretely taking a sip in my secret Sacristy hideout.

So, as I see it, If you do get some of Mother Nature's raindrops in your commemorative glass tomorrow, it may be cause for celebration, a spiritual experience if you will. You can then directly proceed to  the Silver Dew Winery tent and I can once again play Alter-boy and mix "the water" with  "the wine". I know Father Richard would have liked it and "just maybe" you will too.

LowCountry Joe 

Daufuskie Island Snow Birds

This Sunday morning in February breaks clear and crisp as I force myself out of the coziness of my down covered bed. Sunlight creeps through curtained windows and chirping sounds of a Carolina Wren herald the dawning of God’s special day.

I used to be an early bird when I lived in Pennsylvania. For me, weekend mornings were made for fishing and watching the sun rise over the calm mist covered waters of Tamarack Lake. But lately, as the years have progressed, I have been just as happy snuggling next to my Bride and floating away into the serenity of never-never land…..As Mary turns and gets the pillow just right I fight off “snoozing second thoughts” as I am determined to experience first hand the beauty of this new found day.

After an invigorating shower with the window open to let in the fresh sea air, I make my way to an outdoor bench next to my very own pond. I am greeted by a Carolina Chickadee singing “chic-a de-dee as it happily flutters about in a low-lying bush. Its mate answers the call and soon I am being surrounded by a whole plethora of fidgety little birds. I chuckle as the spectacle reminds me of the scenes in Cinderella where they fly about helping make her dress. As I lean back and sip my coffee in this newly created aviary a tufted titmouse gets into the act with its “S’you…..S’you” and then all of a sudden an eerie silence.

My first thought is to look skyward for a red-shouldered hawk that frequently has left feathers strewn about in my yard after a recent kill….But all I see is a clear Carolina blue sky….and then….its Alfred Hitchcock time! Somehow my little friends instinctively knew of the coming of “THE BIRDS”. I mean real big birds….black Boat-Tailed crackles. At first only a few were visible at the tip top of the tall standing loblolly pines and then, just like in the movie they arrived. Not hundred but thousands of them swooping out of the sky echoing their sharp gurgles and “chur chur” chirps.

At first, I must say that I was given quite a startle but I quickly reminded myself that Hitchcock was really strange and that eye-pecking only happened in the movies. And after all, these birds, pesky and ominous as they looked were only using my yard as a resting place on their trip back North. Soon they migrated from the trees to the ground and then back again….but it wasn’t their magnificently coordinated movements that was fascinating…. it was their sound. Sitting on that bench in the middle of Mother Nature’s spectacle was like having the best seat in a huge amphitheater with the best of acoustics and speakers. Their high pitched melody migrated from ear to ear and then in some kind of grand finale they screeched and squawked in unison and were gone. I looked back toward the house hoping that Mary had been aroused by the spectacle and had shared it with me, but there was no such luck. She was still in la-la land and it would be my experience alone to reminisce and marvel at and to share in friendly conversation and the written word.

A freshening breeze out of the East brings the soothing sounds of the ocean waves and the Chickadees come to life. A bass feeds on an ill fated fly and the ripples quietly spread over the velvety waters of the pond. As I prepare for Church I will have a renewed reason to resound and emotional AMEN when the Reverend utters his favorite opening remark “Isn’t this a great day to be alive.

LCJoe

Mam....Want to buy some seeds.....

Just like clockwork, my Burpee seed catalogue showed up in my mailbox today.  And just like I always do, I browse intently through the colorful flower laden pages and get a bit misty. You see....it feels just like yesterday that I received my Burpee sales kit and excitedly trudged through the snow  "peddling" a little sunshine to welcoming adults. A few years ago,  I penned a short story included in today's blog about that experience. Unknowingly at the time, in a place called Daufuskie a world away, a young man named Ronnie was also "peddling" seeds. He was not trudging through snow, however,  but meandering down dirt roads canopied with  Spanish moss laden live oaks. I sincerely hope this parallel life experience brings a bit of happiness and sunshine into your home.   LCJoe

Spring (spring) 1. The first season of the year in North America 2. To arise by growth, as from a seed or germ, bulb, root etc. 3. Pertaining to characteristic of, or suitable for the season of spring: spring flowers. "TIME" Spring 1957….. "PLACE"…. A small country community not far from Pittsburgh, PA….Knock…Knock…Knock…." a petite lady wiping her hands on a large white apron emerges…."yes Joey…how can I help you"…."Mrs. Komis….would you like to buy some seeds"? ….."just got them in today" I continue and shyly but confidently open the top of the brightly colored Burpee’s seed sales box. "My…. Aren’t those packages pretty" she exclaims…"Yes Mam, really bright and colorful aren’t they….especially those blue Forget me Nots"…the package says you can sow them right after our last frost and in only seven to ten days you will have seedlings sprouting in that flower box right over there on your window….says so right here on the packet"….."Well how much are they Joey?" …Mam…they are only ten cents a pack….and if you buy five packs they are eight cents". "Well lets take two packs of the Forget me Knots, and two of the daffodils…..ahh….just give me a dollars worth and I will plant some around the back porch too"…….Thank you Mrs. Komis….they will look pretty there, and with money in hand I trudge through the snowy yard, into the muddy street and towards the next farm house. "TIME" Spring 2003….."PLACE"….The small general store next to Marshside Mama’s on the South end of Daufuskie Island, South Carolina…..With a large passel of mail collected from our quaint outdoor post office boxes I enter the store greeted by the well wishes of the accompanied locals. They are seated haphazardly around a plastic table, affectionately known as the round table, and make room for me by shooing away the calico cat that had laid claim to one of the accompanying plastic chairs. A cold Budweiser appears as if from out of nowhere and Daufuskie’s equivalent to the England’s House of Commons reconvenes. Somewhere between comments about the slowness of the County to fix our community dock to the demise of Osama bin Laden the conversation turns to our recent run of rainy Spring days. "My order of seeds got in the other day but it will be some time before planting" a disgruntled Islander mumbles….."too wet" ….."You know, I used to sell seeds on the Island when I was a kid" Ronnie, a long time local native chimes in" ……"I inquisitively respond" …."were they Burpees?"….."Sure were" he responds " did you sell them too?"….The rest of the House of Lords take up another matter as Ronnie and I look at each other in bemused amazement as we enter into our own little time warp into the past. I am taken back to times when I was enlightened and thrilled when opening that brown shipping carton filled with colorful packets on a snowy Pennsylvania day and remember how I brought happiness to my neighbors with an early sign of Spring…..and I can see a twinkle in Ronnie’s eye as he talks about walking the dirt roads of Daufuskie bringing a bit of sunshine to the Locals in the form of packets of colorful Burpee seeds…..and when he talked about his dream of selling enough seeds to get the grand prize "a real B B gun" only to come up short, I must admit I got a bit "misty"…..but we both nodded with approval how Mom and Dad pitched into buy out "the lot" so that we could reach our goal and realize our young dreams. Well Spring has once again come to the Lowcountry…..The daffodils and dogwoods are blooming…..the ospreys and eagles are building their nests, the marshes are turning bright green , the pond frogs are croaking…..and I am getting ready to spread a little sunshine. Just like Ronnie and I did in the Spring of 1957 I once again will become a purveyor of Burpee seeds….. The first pack will go to my Bride Mary for being the Spring of my life for 31 years…the second pack goes to my Mom for her help reaching a youthful dream and buying up "the lot" …..the third pack goes to Ronnie for reminiscing with me "sometimes its good to get misty" and a packet goes to you. Send me your snail mail address and plant these Forget Me Nots in your flower box, yard or wherever…. and may they bring a little sunshine and happiness to your life. If you live up North you can sow them after your last Spring frost……. and in 7 to 10 days the seedlings will emerge……Says so right here on the packet…. LC Joe