Island Realty Blog

A Culinary Experience

Dewees Island, 1/4 mile from the Isle of Palms, is a private, oceanfront island retreat dedicated to environmental preservation. The island is blessed with an abundant harvest of edible flowers, fruit, nuts, seeds, herbs, teas, spices,marsh vegetables and seaweeds. In addition fish and shellfish are also available to enhance your daily menu.

Sea Lettuce is one of my favorite and is actually a seaweed that is available on Dewees. If you wander down to the north end of the island at low tide you will see the bright green leaves that look like pieces of ripped paper.

Be sure to wash it thoroughly before baking it in the oven. This is a wonderful crumble for salads that will add a great sea salt taste. You can also use the interior leaves for the base of the salad and the darker outer leaves sautéed to give your salad an even greater depth of flavor.

Ingredients are abundant on Dewees to help you explore your culinary inner self. Come live the dream!
Foraging for food
If you an adventurer and enjoy the hunt, why not visit Dewees?
The Yaupon Holly bushes are everywhere and offer the opportunity to make a Yaupon Tea that would make an Englishman blush. The tea that this produces reminds one of a great Oriental green tea.

Come, relax, sip a cup with us.

- Sharon Lewis, Island Realty Guest & Owner Advocate

Fathers' Day comes around once every year. It's a day that we get to thank the father figures in our lives. New dads call new grandpas to thank them for their training. Older grandchildren call their older dads to remember their grandfathers. New mothers watch their husbands hold their first born on their inaugural Fathers' Day. Old mothers take pride in their own sons as new dads. Some kids pick up the phone or shoot an email. Others fly half way around the world to surpise the old man on his front porch.

Yesterday was his day. Whether he's the man who showed you how to ride a bike or the one who taught your first born how to tie his shoes, we'd like to hear how you said "Thank you" to the special Dad in your life.

Here at Island Realty, we asked each member of our team to share a short story, memory or give a pat on the back to the fathers who are special to us.

Take a minute for the men who spend all year making that one day special.
We'd love to hear your stories and thank-yous!

A few quotes from our team:

"So much to say about my Dad...He is patient and kind and has always been there for me. He supports me in everything I do and is always available to offer advice when I need it. I can rely on him when I'm through the worst of times and the best. He is the one who sparked my interest in Real Estate in the first place when he and my mom started their own rental business in 1999. So he was a big part of starting me on my path that eventually led me to working at Island Realty:) This weekend he is dropping everything to come down and help my fiance and I move into our new house!! He is truly the best Dad a girl could ever ask for!!"
-Brionne

“Growing up, I would always tag along with my dad when he would walk our family dog, Shelby. Since my parents have recently relocated to the beach, I love taking walks with my dad along the shore. Whether it’s early in the morning or late at night, walking along the surf while Shelby jumps in the waves, or stopping to look for shells, taking walks on the beach with my dad is something that I always look forward to when I go home.”
-Cassidy


"I would like to say Happy FIRST Father's Day to my husband, Brian. You are the best husband and father we could ask for! Thanks for all you do. I love you!"
-Jeannie


"My dad is one of the hardest working people I've ever met. He was a guiding light that helped mold my work ethic. We didn't always see eye to eye but as I grew older I realized the need for rules and strict guidance. My dad made me who I am today and I thank him for all his sacrifice and patience during the teen years. Happy Father's Day."
-A loving daughter


"As a youth getting to know my Dad was not easy because of my schedule and his work. As I have grown old I have grown to understand and respect my fathers knowledge and his wisdom as he has been able to guide me through the good times and hard times we all experience.
Thanks Dad!!"
-Anonymous

"My dad is such an incredible man of wisdom, dependability and strength. As a child he guiding me by hand and now, later in life, through his words & actions. He has always been the example of what I look for in my own future. The only problem I have now.....is I have never met another man who could live up to half of what my father has been to me. Thanks Father for being such an amazing DAD!!"
-Margie

"My dad is my role-model. Since I was a tiny kid and witnessed his pure kindness to peopel, I knew that I would be lucky if I grew up to be half of the person that he is. His heart is as genuine as the gold that he wrapped around my mom's finger 26 years ago. And as my dad, he is not only my most imfluential teacher, he's my best friend. My dad is 'coo beans'!”

Last weekend, the waters of Charleston Harbor were sprinkled with hundreds of sailboats from around the world competing in one of the nation's fastest growing regattas. Charleston Harbor Marina, located at Patriots Point, hosted the event with daily races and night-time beach parties for participants, spectators and the occasional local straggler.

This weekend, instead of focusing on small triangles racing on the horizon, spectators will be stretching their necks upward to catch the best view of angel choreography in the sky.

That's right- the Blue Angels are making their debut in Charleston Harbor.

On Thursday morning, locals were greeted with the growls of jet-engines shaking their roofs. The Boeing FA-18s Hornets claimed the sky all afternoon and their pervasive sound drew hundreds of people to the land's perimeter. After an hour of warming up (gaining their bearings for the unfamiliar waterways), the Angels began their configured stunts. They looked like a acrobatic ballet of perfectly waxed blue steel, meticulously weaving in and out of conformity at mach speeds. They would howl so low that their yellow insignia was legible to the naked eye. At one point, the tread on their landing gear tires was accounted for by spectators. Cell phones everywhere were lifted into the sky to try and catch a glimpse of the ensemble. Yet, no matter how far technology has come, there is nothing that can justify or replace the thrilling grace of experiencing such thorough cohesion in real time.
It's mind-blowing.
And when a simple rehearsal draws so much fuss, one can only imagine what opening night will hold.

The Blue Angels will be flying the jasmine-scented skies of Charleston this Saturday and Sunday, April 17 and 18.

We were seventy-two miles off shore and not a ripple in sight. It looked as if the ocean transformed into a reflection pool of the sky- so flat that the horizon disappeared into the calm of the air.

My brother and I looked at each other after our two-hour journey into the gulf-stream and were literally speechless. Neither of us had ever been this far off the coast, before. There is an unprecedented bond in the shared isolation of the beauty that makes words unnecessary. This was his first visit since I moved here for school four years ago and, as the younger sister, I wanted nothing more than to amaze him with the new world that I discovered on the coast of South Carolina. I didn’t realize that I, too, would be blown away with its majesty.

My dad began rigging the lines for our adventure. If there’s one thing that the three of us share in common, it’s our love for the smell of fresh cut ballyhoo and a chum bag. It brings us all back to our family vacations spent on that water- where our only responsibility was keeping tension on the line of a new prospect. My dad’s newly frosted grays looked like sun-kissed streaks, erasing the years since my childhood. The AC/DC track blaring from the speakers brought out the careless youth of my now businessman brother. My salty skin brought me back to the years spent as my boys’ first mate.

We trolled around the oil-slick ocean but something was different this time. Instead of the having the competitive demeanor that we used to share in game-fishing, we were content with the simple experience of being together. We didn’t rush to the next best spot on the chart; we savored the journey. We didn’t even notice that three hours deep, we hadn’t scored a single bite. How could we? We were together, again, in an unfamiliar place that we somehow all called home.

When we realized that a blue marlin was not going to be on our agenda, we decided to take the trip back slow and enjoy the wildlife that was surfacing around us. My brother spotted a few dolphins and, for the first time, my dad let go of his ambitions and wanted to explore. We slowly made our way to the playful mammals and the few dorsal fins began to multiply. Suddenly, we were surrounded by hundreds of these graceful creatures. In school of six or seven, they would come up to the boat and investigate. At first, they would keep a distance of a couple yards. But when we turned off the engines, they came within a trusting arm’s length. We hung ourselves over the side of the boat, and would splash and whistle at them. A few of them would let us briefly touch their rubbery, dabbled skin. They all looked so different and unique. Some were white with spots that looked like black ink had been sprayed on them. Others were solid gray like Sea World’s Flipper. A few showed their maturity with injuries to their fins. But one thing was consistent about all of them: they had a genuine kindness in their eyes when they turned on their side to look at us. It was a breach of specie-hood and traditional communication that translated into a common understanding. With that eye contact, one thing was certain: We all came in peace.

That evening, I watched the red sun melt into the church-sprinkled skyline of the Holy City. There was so much that I had to show my brother about my new home; so many places that we had to go. He had to see the timeless awe of the Battery; experience the aerial views from the Arthur Ravenel Bridge; taste a praline sample in the market. But, then, like my dad that day, I relaxed. Sometimes, it isn’t about how many fish you rush to catch. It’s about breathing in and savoring the moments that we have with the people that we care about. Pralines in the market have been there for centuries and won’t be leaving anytime soon. But being in the sole company of my dad and brother is something that’s far too precious to hurry through.
Plus, we told everyone else that the we dropped the camera in the water.
You know— the one with the marlin on it.
-Trina N.

Plan your beach getaway around these exciting events!

63rd Annual Festival of Houses and Gardens
3/18/10 – 4/17/10
Experience the intimate charm and elegance found only beyond Charleston's private garden gates and historic thresholds. The Festival is set during the peak of the city's blooming season. Set amid the historic ambience of the city’s Old & Historic District, this series of award-winning tours showcases Charleston’s distinctive architecture, history, gardens and culture. These tours provide a rare opportunity for guests to go inside the private houses and gardens of some of America’s most beautiful historic residences, dating to the 18th century. Visit Charleston to see why it has been renowned for three centuries as “a city set in a garden.”

Family Circle Cup
4/10/10 – 4/18/10
Every spring, the City of Charleston and Daniel Island (10 minute drive from Isle of Palms) serves as a backdrop to one of the richest and most traditional events in women's professional tennis. The Family Circle Cup, one of twenty Premier events on the Sony Ericsson WTA Tour, has a roster of past champions that include some of the biggest names in the history of women's tennis including Chris Evert, Martina Navratilova, Tracy Austin, Steffi Graf, Gabriela Sabatini, Martina Hingis, Jennifer Capriati, Venus Williams, Justine Henin, and Serena Williams. The 2010 Family Circle Cup promises to be an exciting tournament as it will celebrate 10 years in Charleston.

Piccolo Spoleto Festival
5/28/10 - 6/13/10
Piccolo's mission is to provide access to the Spoleto Festival experience for everyone, regardless of their economic, social or physical circumstances and to provide the opportunity for excellent local and regional artists, writers and performances to be presented in Piccolo's "local venue." Piccolo Spoleto offers something wonderful for everyone - from classical to contemporary, from traditional to cutting edge. One of the unique aspects of Piccolo Spoleto is the accessibility to the Spoleto Festival experience. Half of Piccolo's events are admission-free, and the rest are offered at very modest ticket prices.

Spoleto Festival
5/28/10 - 6/13/10
Spoleto Festival USA was founded in 1977 by Pulitzer Prize-winning Italian composer Gian Carlo Menotti, Christopher Keene and others, who sought to create an American counterpart to their annual Festival of Two Worlds in Spoleto, Italy. Looking for a city that would provide the charm of Spoleto as well as its wealth of theaters, churches and other performances spaces, they selected Charleston as the ideal location. The historic city provided a perfect fit: intimate enough that the festival would captivate the entire city; yet cosmopolitan enough to provide an enthusiastic audience and robust infrastructure.Since then Spoleto Festival USA has firmly established itself as one of the world’s leading festivals, presenting more than 200 world or American premieres. Notable past premieres and commissions include: Monkey: Journey to the West by Chen Shi-Zheng, Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett; Peter and Wendy by Lee Breuer; Creve Coeur by Tennessee Williams; The American Clock by Arthur Miller; The Mechanical Organ by the Nikolais Dance Theatre; Miracolo d’Amore by Martha Clarke; Empty Places by Laurie Anderson; Hydrogen Jukebox by Philip Glass and Allen Ginsberg; Praise House by Urban Bush Women; Three Tales by Steve Reich and Beryl Korot; and Tenebrae by Osvaldo Golijav.

Charleston Harbor Fest
June 18, 2010 - June 20, 2010
Charleston Harbor Fest is a true harbor-wide celebration of the sea. Attracting visitors and locals alike, this event is family-friendly and loads of fun for all ages. From the classic beauty of sailing ships, wooden boats and pirates giving their best “Argh” to the interactive educational exhibits, Charleston Harbor Fest offers an array of activities. You can be as hands-on as you want from tame to adventurous. Tour the ships, enjoy the scenic waterfront and relax with a beverage and fine Lowcountry fare. For those with more adventurous spirit, build your own boat over the weekend with the handy help of our volunteers, head out on the harbor for your free sailing lesson, or actually join the crew of one of the ships and sail north to Boston. For those more interested in air than sea, there are aerobatic flight demonstrations, helicopter rides and other exciting aerial attractions.

In one-way or another, we’ve all got it: that little piece of magic tucked away in a memory.

It might be locked up in the conch shell that your father first put up to your ear when you were a child. Maybe it’s hiding in the warm breeze that inscribed your first, real kiss on that August night. Perhaps, it’s in the wet footprint of your oldest child when he finally swam the deep end and ran to you in pride.

Whatever it is, one thing is certain- we’ve all got it.

It’s that image; that feeling; that one thing that comes to mind when you hear the magical word, ”summer”.

The first time we went to that little island, I was eight. They called it, “the Isle of the Palms”.

I can still smell the warm, salty promises of hours on the beach with my brother as we drove over the old drawbridge. Like all of our family vacations, the isolation forced a bond between the two of us. And as the youngest, I couldn’t have been happier.

We did everything together.

We hosted shelling competitions with the other kids staying on the beach. Even, though, I swear to this day, starfish beat sand dollars, the pretty blonde next store won first-place. (My brother was the judge).

By day, the island laughed in the sun as we splashed in the waves, never even needing to pretend. It was an oasis to our imaginations.

We busted through the screen doors in the early hours of the morning and didn’t return until sunset. It was on of those rare, safe places that we were allowed to roam.

Our parents reveled in the freedom of not having to worry.

The island was ours.

Every year after that summer, my brother and I would count the days until June, when we would return to our magical haven. And every year, our adventures grew with us. When I was 11, we made our mom drive us to one end of the island so that we could bike the whole thing—start to finish. Two pit stops, four water bottles and six miles later; we were looking down onto cloud nine.

The first thing we did when we got back to the condo was figure out how old one must be to join the Olympics.

Apparently, we had a few more vacations to practice.

The great thing about that place was that, year after year, it never really changed. Although, we’d grow from autumn until spring, and our interests evolved with age, we always had that promise to return to our untouched childhood.

That innocent memory existed off the coast of South Carolina.

On one of those rendezvous, something happened to me; something that was so amazing and so tragic to a 15-year-old girl.

For the first time, I fell in love.

We had been watching each other since the Saturday that I got there. And every time I caught his eye, a swarm of butterflies invaded my stomach. (Thank goodness for the justice that my sunburn did for my flushed face).

His family stayed two condos over and our parents meshed perfectly. Our mothers formed an instant sunbathing book club, while our fathers shared 8 a.m. tee-times at the island’s golf club. I would spend most days on the beach, brainstorming ways to initiate conversation with the boy. I’d stare at young couples, walking hand-in-hand, searching for any kind of inspiration.

Five nights before he left, I finally found it.

I volunteered to go on an ice run for my dad and there he was: barefoot on the dock, a fishing pole in his sun-kissed hands. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride and took 16 conscious steps to where he stood.

I looked at him.

He looked back at me.

A few too many panicky seconds passed.

I had to say something.

Anything.

“Have you ever read, ‘The Old Man and the Sea’?”

Oh my goodness. What did I just say?

He broke out into a perfectly straight, pearly white smile.

“As a matter of fact, that’s the only book that I think I’d read again.”

We both laughed.

In an instant, all of the anxiety and tension that had been building up for the past seven days, fled out of our bodies and into the trade winds.

That boy gave me my first kiss that night on the docks. By the end of the following day, he showed me my first love. And weeks later, when promises of phone calls lost hope, that boy gave my heart its first, real break.

Still, several years later, when I pass that dock each June, I can feel my heart beat a little faster and a few leftover butterflies flap their wings.

There’s something about summer that makes things a little deeper; a little stronger.

It’s something in the warmth of the air that revisits the innocence of our youth.

We’ve all got it. The difference is that some people keep their magic hidden behind years of adulthood.

I know what my “something” is. It’s that little island tucked away in the Lowcountry. It’s that quaint, magical piece that remains unchanged.

And I know that each June, when I return, I will become that kid, again.