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    <title>WE BE Bloggin with LowCountry Joe®</title>
    
    
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/" />
    <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-1279196</id>
    <updated>2010-02-25T08:07:32-08:00</updated>
    <subtitle>A Purveyor of Carolina LowCountry Properties for 
twenty eight (28) years.</subtitle>
    <generator uri="http://www.typepad.com/">TypePad</generator>
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        <title>Chasing Buffleheads Up Broad Creek</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/02/chasing-buffleheads-up-broad-creek.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/02/chasing-buffleheads-up-broad-creek.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83451ce5369e201310f39be40970c</id>
        <published>2010-02-25T08:07:32-08:00</published>
        <updated>2010-02-25T11:45:18-08:00</updated>
        <summary>With an unusally cold February upon us, folks continue to comment…”The boat ride must have been really long and cold this morning”. For clarity purposes….those reading this pontification for the first time ….I live on Daufuskie Island which is accessible...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>LowCountry Joe®</name>
        </author>
        
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="ducks" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Hilton Head" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Hilton Head Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Lowcountry" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="South Carolina" />
        
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&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;h3 class="entry-header"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;With an unusally cold February upon us, folks continue to comment…”The boat ride must have been really long and cold this morning”. For clarity purposes….those reading this pontification for the first time ….I live on Daufuskie Island which is accessible only by boat and I make the “crossing” daily to my office. My response has turned into simply shrugging my shoulders and feeling sorry for the unfortunate soul because he/she did not make that crossing with me and experience that particular morning’s&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;watery blessings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;div class="entry-content"&gt;
&lt;div class="entry-body"&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You see….the&amp;#0160;fifty minute crossing over Calibogue Sound and up Broad Creek &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;is simply the height of my day…. and most days I do not want the adventure to end. First of all I have a nice hot cup of “Joe” to warm my inners, a pleasant warm cabin should I desire to be inside, and a delightful mate asking me if I would like the Island Packet or &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e2010536dff687970c-pi" style="FLOAT: right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img alt="Bufflehead" class="at-xid-6a00d83451ce5369e2010536dff687970c " src="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e2010536dff687970c-320wi" style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 5px 5px" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; the New York Times. Now those that know me understand which paper I pick and which one is brought to my office for the convenience of my friend’s new puppy. But this pontification is not about the decli&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ning morals and falling subscription rates of the Times,&amp;#0160;it’s about my adventures “up top” which means being on the above deck, outside, being invigorated by steady flow of the oceans clean salty air. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;This gets me to my point and the naming of this particular pontification “Chasing Buffleheads up Broad Creek”. As the ferry makes its way from the steel blue/gray waters of Calibouge&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;Sound into the creek hundreds of Bufflehead ducks on vacation from “Up North” find sanctuary in the creeks calm waters. That being said these beautiful small spunky ducks with a prominent white circle on their head&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;are in the path of vessels and must make way or be turned into duck soup. So they meander &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;ahead just short of the bow looking over their shoulders…ahhh…wings…. flitting gracefully about in subtle harmony just ahead of the ferry’s wake. One passed they bobble up &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;and down in Disneyesque unison unscathed by their adventure to once again relish the peace and quiet their Southern watery home offers. They are simply a sight to behold,&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;normally unnoticed by the casual&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;“up top” observer that scans the waters hoping for the appearance of a smiling dolphin.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;Now I could delve deeper into God’s Lowcountry watery blessings like the daily appearance of two bald eagles resting comfortable of the banks brilliant white oyster rakes or the way the morning sun glimmers and pleases the eye. But today I simply wanted to share and express the wonderful calming feeling&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;I get deep inside on each and every “crossing” &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;and maybe to convince others that a true Island without a bridge like Daufuskie is&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;a very special place to live. Yes, the morning transit to work is clogged with duck traffic&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;and&amp;#0160;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;fifty&lt;/span&gt; minutes has disappeared from my life but the “Bufflehead memory” will live on…… and the expectation of an “evening up-top &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;crossing” under clear starlit Carolina skies will soon be realized, &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;as I make passage once again &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/span&gt;to my true Daufuskie Island home.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; COLOR: #0000bf; FONT-FAMILY: Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hope to see ya on a warm incoming Spring tide&lt;/strong&gt;…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>"Papy's Posies"</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/02/pappys-posies.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/02/pappys-posies.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83451ce5369e201287763aac9970c</id>
        <published>2010-02-04T13:58:31-08:00</published>
        <updated>2010-02-06T13:39:40-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Light gray clouds blanket the Carolina Lowcountry and prospects for sun in the February days to come seem dim. I find myself alone in the Lighthouse....Mary said she had "Too Much Joe" and hopped the 8:15 ferry to the mainland....</summary>
        <author>
            <name>LowCountry Joe®</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="South Carolina Lowcountry" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Spring" />
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 11px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">Light <span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: ">gray clouds blanket the Carolina Lowcountry and prospects for sun in the February days to come seem dim. I find myself alone in the Lighthouse....Mary said she had "Too Much Joe" and hopped the 8:15 ferry to the mainland.  A thoughtful blown kiss was accepted  as she made her departure by golf cart and disappeared up the oak canopied road like a rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.  Geeze....I miss her already. </span></font></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">Its not often I get to spend a day at the old Bloody Point Light alone. Normally I too would be on the mainland doing my thing, whiling away the day in my makeshift office. With the economy the way it is, that has all changed and now the historic  Silver Dew Winery is where I go,  all set up with new-fangled computers with things sticking out of them that let my words travel the Fuskie winds into the sky. </font></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">Now if I was one of those guys that get depressed easily, this surely would be the day. No Mary, no tourists stopping by to say hello and when you get right down to it...no people period..just the bald headed eagles soaring high above.  Actually its a typical early February for any given year but the overshadowing of  bankrupt resort proceedings plies away at my psychie.   And....the normally over seeded green fairways and greens of the Bloody Point golf course don't help much,  completing the puzzle with "mental  brownness" that psychiatrists would portray as perpetual doom as gloom.</font></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">But do not fear, my inner self says, remember the words of Mary..."You Make your own reality". "Buck up...."Life is in the living....in the tissue of every hour of every day"....and then there is the old Scottish proverb...."Live today and forget tomorrow....for you are a long time dead". Ok Ok....enough already inner self, I get the picture. Lets get my butt in gear.... lets make some real "funky ass" reality. </font></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">Now the best way I know of to make positive reality is to take a long  walk. So off I go, down to the beach, power walkin' big time....gettin' those endorphins movin'....struttin my stuff....The world is my oyster, and even though the clouds turn the shimmering waves grey....they look blue to me. And now I'm talkin' my trash....yes sir re: Bob...sayin' good morning to the pelicans....waving with delight to a passing Coast Guard helicopter....chasing frenzied shore birds, and even stopping and talking to my favorite tree...."Well trees are alive like dogs, aren't they....and you talk to your dog".....</font></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">A steady gait, and well trained legs, push me onward and a check of my sub mariner shows fifty minutes has somehow flown by.  The lighthouse steps welcomes me for some "porch sittin", a flock of red winged blackbirds chatter and cheet as if to welcome my arrival and bionic eyes  are enticed by a little patch of green in an otherwise bleak lawn. </font></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="COLOR: #407f00; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><font face="Georgia">A big smile comes over my face and a feeling of true well being envelops my inner soul. That patch <a href="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e20120a8665b7f970b-pi" style="FLOAT: right"><img alt="Papy's Posie" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83451ce5369e20120a8665b7f970b " src="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e20120a8665b7f970b-320wi" style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 5px 5px" /></a> <a href="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e201287768ae2d970c-pi" style="FLOAT: right" />of green is Papy's  doing!!!!!  Missed this morning because my eyes were "fixed" on my Brides departure, snow drop flowers, planted by a former Lighthouse Keeper "Papy"  in the early fifties have drivin' their little heads through the sandy earth overnight and will soon grace me with their blooms. Their snow white beauty have welcomed my Bride and I to Spring for ten (10) years and 2010 will be no exception. Soon the lawn will be covered with their glory, my pecan tree will come alive and a new "freshness" will permeate the Carolina Lowcountry. A spirit of rebirth will grace all Daufuskie humans and a spirit of well being will help embrace positive reality. Endless days of sunlight will soon be the norm and my Bride Mary will soon be back from the mainland. Life is Good.</font></span></span></span></p></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Raccoon and Eggs</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/01/raccoon-and-eggs.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/01/raccoon-and-eggs.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83451ce5369e2012876c1a107970c</id>
        <published>2010-01-10T12:44:44-08:00</published>
        <updated>2010-01-10T14:01:46-08:00</updated>
        <summary>What do raccoon and eggs have enough in common to headline my latest Lowcountry pontification you might ask.....Well....putting all political and culinary correctness aside "They Taste Damn Good Together"! EEEEHHHGADDS!!!!! some of my faithful literary followers might proclaim....we know times...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>LowCountry Joe®</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Carolina Lowcountry" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Food Channel" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Hilton Head Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Low Country" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Raccoon" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="South Carolina" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Travel Channel" />
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 11px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: ">
<p><a href="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e20120a7bff93a970b-pi" style="FLOAT: right"><img alt="January 2010 103" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83451ce5369e20120a7bff93a970b " src="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e20120a7bff93a970b-320wi" style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 5px 5px" /></a> What do raccoon and eggs have enough in common to headline my latest Lowcountry pontification you might ask.....Well....putting all political and culinary correctness aside "They Taste Damn Good Together"!</p>
<p> EEEEHHHGADDS!!!!! some of my faithful literary followers might proclaim....we know times are tough these days  but substituting Jimmy Dean's pork sausage  with raccoon at the breakfast table..."Poor Mary"....old LCJoe has finally lost it. Well "loosing it" in whatever form one might consider at the robust age of almost sixty six (66) is all together possible. But believe me, when it comes to consuming the "masked bandit" I have complete awareness and control of all on my senses. </p></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<p><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: ">May I regress....Many a fond moment were spent many moons ago at my Aunt Nellie's dinner table on the family farm and believe me, I never once left hungry. We raised the finest of black angus steers, prime corn fed hogs and the healthiest of true free range chickens. I know that its hard to believe that eating juicy t-bone steaks each day gets old, but it does,  so Aunt Nellie, true to form, would always "surprise us" with a fine delicacy. A lot of these last minute treats were passionately cooked cow and pig "parts" the Travel  Channel's  "Anthony Bourdain/No Reservations" would savor. But the real treat came in the form of a masked bandit that made the tragic mistake of noisily overturning my Aunt's garbage pail at 3 AM. She  had a great "eye" coupled for a fondness for deep sleep and the sound of a twelve gauge shotgun reverberating over the serenely quiet Pennsylvania rolling meadows announced to all that raccoon was on tomorrow's menu.  </span></p>
<p><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: ">As I now fast forward....I am spending a fine Summer afternoon "porch sittin" at the Silver Dew Winery with my dear "local" friend Freddie when the subject of consuming Daufuskie critters came up. We chatted about how our relatives prepared squirrel to die for and excitedly talked over each other about how we were brought up on and developed a fine taste for raccoon. The conversation spread from fur to feather with a deep appreciation of each others unlikely common culinary delights. It was enough to break out my trusty twelve gage and head for the woods.  "True hunters", however,  know that a long hard freeze is always mandatory and our fantasizing taste buds would have to wait.</span></p>
<p><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: "><a href="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e2012876c214a0970c-pi" style="FLOAT: left"><img alt="Raccoon" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83451ce5369e2012876c214a0970c " src="http://www.webebloggin.com/.a/6a00d83451ce5369e2012876c214a0970c-500wi" style="MARGIN: 0px 5px 5px 0px" /></a> Months passed and "da 2010 freeze it did come". The arctic blast came with a vengeance wiping out pesky bugs of all sorts, completely freezing over my never frozen  1/3 acre pond for days on end , thrilling Palmetto Electric to distraction  and bringing my parka clad Friend Freddie to my door.  Invited in, he grinned from ear to ear and from a brown paper bag presented a package securely wrapped in sturdy tin foil. The masked bandit from my childhood had arrived and was once again about to be savored and consumed. </span></p>
<p><span style="FONT-SIZE: 14px; FONT-FAMILY: ">So there you have it and "NO" my Bride Mary did not partake of or encourage my fine feast. But when she did ask me what the masked bandit tasted like I smiled and blurted  RACCOON....No...Not Chicken.</span></p></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title> History of Bloody Point Lighthouse</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83451ce5369e2012876b0a71c970c</id>
        <published>2010-01-06T13:26:19-08:00</published>
        <updated>2010-01-06T13:35:31-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Mary, and I have always been in love with Lighthouses. It all started when many years ago, by pure chance, we ended up staying overnight at California’s Pigeon Point Lighthouse. Even though our backs ached from a combination of old...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>LowCountry Joe®</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Bloody Point" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Lighthouse" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Lowcountry" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="South Carolina Lighthouses" />
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><strong><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Mary, and I have always been in love with Lighthouses. It all started when many years ago, by pure chance, we ended up staying overnight at California’s Pigeon Point Lighthouse. Even though our backs ached from a combination of old cots and sleeping bags, we felt privileged to be able to experience and explore that wonderful beacon. We never in our wildest dreams believed that some day we would sleep in our own beds….in our own Lighthouse.</span></strong> <td width="50%" /><tr><td colspan="2" width="100%"><br /></td></tr></span>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">So, this is a History of the Bloody Point Lighthouse located on the Southern end of Daufuskie Island, South Carolina. I call it "The Forgotten Lighthouse" because as of this writing you will struggle to find it in any Lighthouse books. But, the fact that it has been forgotten, is the reason Mary and I have been able to buy it in the first place.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Let’s start with recent History, the series of events that played themselves out, and led to that fateful day when a fellow Realtor asked "Do you want to buy a Lighthouse?". Then I will go back in time when the first Keeper, John Michael Doyle, first set foot on Daufuskie.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Mary and I moved to Hilton Head Island fifteen years ago to escape the snowy, Northwestern, Pennsylvania Winters. Our home was a wonderful hand hewn log cabin overlooking a beautiful Pennsylvania Fishing Commission lake called Tamarack. When we moved to Hilton Head Island we purchased a traditional home complete with walls covered with drywall. Well, quite frankly, once you experience the warmth and coziness of a log home you are never quite the same. The drywall and the house had to go and we finally settled on building a post and beam home on our newly acquired lot on Daufuskie Island’s Haig Point Plantation.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">We met with an architect from New Hampshire and selected a few plans. There was one feature, however, I wanted him to include, and that was a replica of the fireplace and mantle in the Bloody Point Lighthouse. The Lighthouse at the time was being used as a golf pro shop.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Upon arrival our young friend was instantly fascinated with the structure and immediately pointed out we were looking at ‘classic" post and beam construction. He, like most visitors, had expected something different… he had expected a tall structure that "looked" like a Lighthouse. What he found was a traditional Low Country style building looking more like a cottage. I explained the one feature, however, that was unique… the single large dormer window on the roof. That is where the "kerosene light" was lit and maintained by the Keeper.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">We peered through the old wavy glass panes, made a few sketches and commented about what a wonderful home it could have been. Months later, I would call his office and explain I had purchased the old mantle and, oh by the way, we purchased the Lighthouse to go along with it!</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">I had known a permanent golf pro shop was being constructed for Bloody Point, but I never believed the developers and owners would ever sell that beautiful historic structure. I was certain they had other plans for what had become and was "the symbol of Bloody Point". Boy was I surprised to later find out it was under contract and a group of investors were planning to convert it into a bed and breakfast. I was even more surprised when I found out later the investor "deal" had fell through and a young couple now had it under contract. Wow…that could have been me if only I would have let the "powers to be" know my interest! So I did!!!!! If this deal ever falls through Please, yes Pretty Please, let me know. Then came that fateful day, the phone rang…..and I was asked the most wonderful question since "Do you take this Woman?…..…"Do you want to buy a Lighthouse?!!!!</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">With pen in shaky hand, Mary and I signed the papers that would forever after make us a part of Daufuskie Island History. Our home on Hilton Head sold quickly and I immediately got down to the task of restoration. I was lucky in this regard because the owners prior to the property being used as a golf pro shop had already done extensive renovations. Most importantly the wiring and plumbing was up to standard . The first task at hand was to rip up the carpeting that had been laid to protect the heart of pine floors from golf spikes. Upon inspection I found that the carpeting had been glued to the floors. Needless to say, that meant hiring a professional floor finisher and two weeks of constant sanding. The result was superb, however, as the old pine sprung back to life. A healthy coat of wax, not polyurethane, was applied and I was off to the next task, cleaning.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Consider the fact that a bunch of heavy smoking golf pros literally lived in the lighthouse for twelve years and you will understand the task at hand. Thousands of golfers had also "trooped" through the place and the cleaning and maintenance had been obviously sub par. Also consider that the entire interior, ceilings and walls, are pine bead board, I literally hand washed and wiped every square inch, not once, but three times. Most of the walls were left in their natural state by the previous owners and only the upstairs bedrooms and "light room" needed to be painted.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Then came that wonderful day after months of work when I realized I was done, at least with the interior. The exterior power washing, painting and wood rot would have to wait. It was time to show off my work to Mary…I purposely had keep her out of that mess….smart right….and the big day had arrived. Needless to say, I was a "smashing hit" that day and I will never forget the way she "beamed" as I gave her the grand tour. Our furniture arrived by barge a few weeks later and there we were, living in a lighthouse.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">We all know that the main function of any Lighthouse is to direct mariners and save lives, but why build one at Bloody Point. Even today, as I stand on the beach looking toward Tybee Island, the reason is very obvious. Huge container ships from all over the world constantly enter the Savannah River channel on their way to the Savannah Port. The port was even more important back in the 1700’s when Savannah was growing by leaps and bounds. Imports and exports arriving by the river were essential for the city to survive and moving sand bars and shoals made the passage treacherous. For that reason, a Lighthouse was located on Tybee as early as 1736. As ships entered the river they would navigate by using Tybee on their left, or port side. In 1881 the Lighthouse Department realized a need for lights on the right or starboard side to further ensure their safety. Two Range Lights, as they were called, would be constructed Captains would align the front and back range light to give them their exact position. Mr. James C. LaCoste from Sullivan’s Island South Carolina was given the contract to build the front light. Mr. John Michael Doyle with the Cooper Manufacturing Company, Mt. Vernon Ohio, would build the back light (even then folks from Ohio were coming South).</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">By April of 1883 construction was completed. The front light, painted bright white with lead trim, stood proud and was ready for duty. As I mentioned earlier, this Lighthouse looked more like a keeper’s cottage, than a traditional tall standing Lighthouse like Tybee. Never the less, the red kerosene light that shone from the single large upstairs dormer window worked to perfection. The back light, located 4350 ft. inland was also unusual for a Lighthouse. It seems Congress had appropriated insufficient funds for a "proper" Lighthouse (imagine that) and erected a triangular white metal tower, like our cell towers of today. The source of light was a locomotive head-light in the form of a powerful parabolic reflector (red beam with a range of 12 miles). The light was kept in the "lamp room" an 8 by 10 ft. brick building where it was cleaned, maintained and stored during the day. At night the Keeper would run the light up on rails to a height of 81 feet. The entire system worked perfectly, all that was needed was a Lighthouse Keeper.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Here is where John Michael Doyle steps in again. It seems this Ohio native liked the Lowcountry so much he applied and was awarded the position of Keeper. Mr. Doyle would serve for seven years and would see an increase in pay from $620.00 to a whopping $660.00 per year. During his tenure he would oversee a 12 by 20 ft kitchen "Mary’s kitchen today" being built off the Southwest corner of the house. He would also build a boathouse.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">In August of 1890 Robert A. Sisson, a Canadian, became the second Lighthouse Keeper. Obviously he also wanted to live in a warm climate and he found just that in August’s hot sultry days. He served until May if 1908 when he was replaced by his son, Charles Leslie Sisson. Charles was sent to Fernadina Beach in Florida on August of 1910 and his Dad returned to Bloody Point to resume his Light Keeper’s duties.</span></span></strong></p><br /><tr><td width="50%"><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: "><strong><font color="#000080" size="2" /></strong></span></span></td><td width="50%"><strong><font color="#000080" size="2" /></strong></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" width="100%"><br />
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Augustus Sisson was kept quite busy during his tenure. Besides the obvious tasks of maintaining both range lights he would supervise the moving of the front range light (December 1899) to a location inland next to the back range light. Significant erosion obviously isn’t a recent phenonoma and the only way to save the wood structure was to move it. At that point the front range Lighthouse would be utilized as the Keepers cottage and a metal tower recycled from the Venus Light Station in South Carolina would be erected. This tower could be moved fairly easily and away from the encroaching waves. On top of that, he lived through the great 1893 hurricane that took his kitchen, now Mary’s, and rolled it from its foundations. Damage was significant and many of his families personal items were lost.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">The next Keeper (1910) was Gustaf Ohman. He obviously didn’t like cold weather either and originally arrived in Charleston on a sailing schooner from Sweden. To help him with his tasks he hired John A. Robertson, Jr. as his assistant Keeper. Three years later Robertson would be replaced by Arthur Ashley Burn, Jr. (now know as Papy).</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">In 1922 the Government decided there was no further need for the Bloody Point Light Range, the lights were extinguished and the back metal tower was dismantled. A Mr. Francis M. Keenan purchased the Lighthouse and a few years later sold it back to the former Keeper Gustaf Ohlman. A few years after that, the last assistant Keeper Arthur A. (Papy) Burn purchased the Lighthouse for his residence.</span></span></strong></p><br /></td></tr><tr><td width="50%"><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: "><strong><font color="#000080" size="2" /></strong></span></span></td><td align="middle" valign="center" width="50%"><strong><font color="#000080" size="2" /></strong></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" width="100%"><br />
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">There is one thing, however, that Papy is really remembered for and that is the Silver Dew Winery. Papy loved making wine and made it out of scuppernong grapes, elderberries, pears or whatever he could find. He converted the Lamp House, the brick building that had housed the rear range light, into the Winery and actually made it under license in 1953. He stored the wine in the oil house, adjacent the Lamp House, on the original racks, that until then had held kerosene. Markings on the wall still show how he aged the wine. Papy never drank the wine but only tasted it and gave it to his friends. In his honor, I am currently in the process of making pear wine from trees he planted in the Lighthouse yard. It is important to note here that most Islanders and visitors, until now, have known the Lamp house as the Winery. They never knew about its historic past and that is the only known Lamp House to exist in the United States.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Papy sold the Lighthouse in June of 1966 and left the Island due to poor health. The last Bloody Point Lighthouse Keeper died on January 20, 1968. His body was returned to Daufuskie, the Island he loved so much.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">Simon Kehoe and his Sister Mary purchased the Lighthouse from Papy and used it primarily as a second home. In 1981 it was sold to a Mr. Jim Batey. In April of 1983 it was sold to Mr. James P. Black. Both Mr. Batey and Black made extensive renovations. In October 1988 title passed to Beach Lagoon Associates. Mary and I signed our purchase contract February 1999 and made the big move in June of 1999.</span></span></strong></p>
<p><strong><span style="COLOR: #6000bf; FONT-FAMILY: "><span style="COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: ">So there you have it, a brief history of the "Forgotten Lighthouse" at Bloody Point. From all indications the former Keepers and their families that have passed truly loved this place. They found this special Lighthouse on the mystical Island of Daufuskie was more than a place to work…it was a place for them to live, to raise their families. It was also a place for them to dream. So that’s what I do in the total still of the night, standing alone in the Lamp Room listening to the waves crash on the Bloody Point shore. I dream of the future… but I just can’t help to embrace the past…try to smell the kerosene…and to let the Keepers of the past know I will love and protect the old Lighthouse in their memory until my dying day.</span></span></strong></p></td></tr></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Here....Have One....</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/01/herehave-one.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.webebloggin.com/lowcountry_joes_hilton_he/2010/01/herehave-one.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83451ce5369e20120a7ad9cc2970b</id>
        <published>2010-01-06T10:42:16-08:00</published>
        <updated>2010-01-06T10:42:16-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Here.....Have One Here, have one…. Steamed Oysters…..just the thought of them make some folks lip curl up. “Yuck” ….has also been uttered as I eagerly invade the oyster’s shell in search of that fine and usually slimy juicy morsel. So,...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>LowCountry Joe®</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Carolina LowCountry" />
        
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term=" Oyster Roast" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Daufuskie Island" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Hilton Head" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="Lowcountry" />
        <category scheme="http://sixapart.com/ns/types#tag" term="South Carolina" />
        
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<td width="100%"><font color="#000080" face="Arial" size="2"><strong>Here.....Have One</strong></font> 
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<td width="100%"><font color="#000080" face="Arial" size="2"><strong>Here, have one…. Steamed Oysters…..just the thought of them make some folks lip curl up. “Yuck” ….has also been uttered as I eagerly invade the oyster’s shell in search of that fine and usually slimy juicy morsel. So, with that remark in mind, I proudly display my next find as if to taunt the unbeliever, before I down another small sample of the ocean’s salt laced bounty. Now I have to admit that I, over forty years ago, also turned my head in disgust as my Uncle John said “Here, have one…at Pittsburghs once famous Down-Town Oyster House. It was always our last stop, making the daily rounds at the cities best restaurants picking up the used produce and foodstuffs for his nearby hog farm. Well, after being taunted with remarks like “don’t be a little wimp….real men eat them” did I finally succumb…..keeping a manly smile on the outside , but soon after, making an unnoticed but hasty retreat to the ‘Men’s Room”. It wasn’t until many years later, when my Bride Mary and I “found” the Lowcountry did I again run into my old nemesis, the lowly oyster. We were invited “the invitation said casual” by one of my BEST clients to what I was later to find out, was a South Carolina Lowcountry tradition. ….an oyster roast. “Surely they will also have some Southern fried chicken” I anxiously commented to Mary as I navigated my trusty 74 Chevy pickup down the narrow live oak canopied dirt roads to the May River. Upon arrival we were quickly directed to the main attraction “the roast”. People of all descriptions, dressed in their Levis and sweatshirts congregated around this big old table with steaming oysters piled high in the center. Smoke from the wood fire permeated the cool Spring air and a truly festival mood was prevalent. Right in the middle of all this merriment was Moultrie our host and he didn’t waste any time making room for us. After a few short pleasantries he picked up one of the biggest oysters on the pile and uttered those ominous words “Here, have one…..” It was Pittsburgh’s old Oyster House all over again but this time there could be no excuses…..no place to run. So with unbridled confidence I grabbed that old oyster and with the skill of a surgeon, inserted that oyster knife, cracked open that shell and displayed one of the finest, juiciest oysters I have ever seen. Without dipping it into the available drawn butter I drew it to my lips and with no hesitation, it was down the hatch. What happened in the next few moments, it is said, is when I was truly transformed into Lowcountry Joe®. For some unknown reason, I actually like it....my childhood memories were only a dream and with Mary looking at me as if I had lost it all grabbed another one from the pile. “These May River oysters are the saltiest and best I have ever had”, I told an appreciate Moultrie. I had somehow been reborn. Since then I have been on one of the largest supporters of the camaraderie and hospitality of the traditional Lowcountry oyster roast. Up North I used to crave that first glass of Spring Bock beer….now I crave that first steaming hot oyster washed down with a cold Budweiser in the fellowship of my neighbors and friends. And I am not the only one. Noted writer Pat Conroy, of “Prince of Tides” fame wrote a marvelous article about the “South Carolina Oyster Roast” in a recent edition of Gourmet Magazine. He’s quoted as telling a Daufuskie Island “Local” that “eating a Lowcountry oyster is like tasting heaven”. I wholeheartedly second that Pat, and “Here have one…..” </strong></font></td></tr></tbody></table></div>
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