Is it fall yet? After living in the Lowcountry for over a decade, the belated arrival of autumn still gets me. Gourds sit on porches, rotting before our eyes. The pumpkin spice squad chokes down the flavored lattes while sweating in their cars. Then again, part of the beauty of the Lowcountry’s relucant-to-leave summer is our extended growing season. We nosh on tomatoes and watermelons for ages it seems. But I’m ready to trade my peaches for pecans, my sweet corn for sweet potatoes. With any luck this hot weather will turn and we’ll get to indulge in fall’s best.
I’ve got my eye on Molly & Me’s pralines thanks to our Dirt feature on the company. Then there’s the upcoming October 23 Blood on the River event that’s what I imagine our hunting and gathering ancestors did this time of year. Dozens of chefs and farmers will gather on Wadmalaw to learn traditional Cajun butchering styles, slaughter dozens of animals, then have a feast. If that’s not a harvest party, I don’t know what is. —Kinsey Gidick
For years, the namesake of Molly & Me pecans could be found nestled beneath the towering pecan trees of Kay Holseberg's farm in Holly Hill, South Carolina. Laying comfortably and, most likely, snacking on a few of the passed over nuts from her owner's morning picks, Molly, a presa canario mastiff, was Holseberg's business partner — her daily companion as she spent hours picking up pecans from the trees. — Claire Volkman
When I arrive at the hidden farm tucked down a dirt road on Wadmawlaw, there's still mist coming off Bohicket Creek. But even at this early hour, the farm is a whirl of activity. — Kinsey Gidick
Can broccoli save the world? That may be a bit ambitious, but if Mark Farnham, Ph.D., has his way, the cabbage's humble green cousin will at least greatly shrink the country's carbon footprint. — Helen Mitternight
When 2.3 million of Juanita Stanley's honeybees were killed by a pesticide spray in August, her business was not the only thing she had to worry about. Ten Lowcountry farms — most in Dorchester County — were lined up to use her bees as pollinators next spring. — Amanda Coyne
Forget foreign cars and name brand jeans, today you're more likely to be judged by what's on your dinner table than where you bought your pants. Is that steak local, grass-fed, animal welfare approved? Did you pair it with a side of local, organic, heirloom potatoes? — Nikki Seibert Kelley
Lewey is a six-day old lamb. He's the first animal I meet on Darling Farm, stumbling around on four gangly legs. Farmer Jon Darling follows behind him, along with Gordon Darling, his father. Gordon picks up the lamb, a brown, tan, white, and black-speckled creature, and holds him tenderly. "This is Lewey. L-e-w-e-y, named after my great uncle," he says. "And this is Penne Pasta," he adds, pointing at a wriggling brown dog at our feet. — Connelly Hardaway