Not long ago, I was being chauffeured around the state by an amazing deputy political director, while campaigning for Lieutenant Governor. My and my running mate’s daily schedules were being crafted by a team of incomparable campaign professionals. And when we arrived at each of the many events of the day, an enthusiastic crowd was there waiting to meet us and hear what we had to say. The kindest ladies would bring me a plate of food afterwards and say in a motherly voice, “you need to eat” – and they already knew exactly what I liked. When I got home each evening, I sat in my truck and read so many encouraging messages on social media from people I had never met. That was a good season in many ways.

I don’t have that life anymore. I have lost two elections back to back – the 2018 campaign for Lieutenant Governor and then, in 2020, I lost the State House seat I had held for eight years – a job I loved and was good at. The move to the right in South Carolina and in my House district probably means that it will be a while before a Democrat like me could be elected again.

One evening late in the 2018 campaign, my childhood best friend, Carrie, came to a fundraiser we had in her city. I made my way to her as a campaign worker brought me a drink made exactly the way I like it. I thanked him and turned to see Carrie amused in that way that childhood friends know you better than anyone knows you. “Don’t get used to this,” she said. “This is not real life.” I gave her a big grin, “Isn’t it crazy?”

It was crazy. And it also gave me a nearly endless supply of adrenaline and dopamine as I spent my days traveling the state with my running mate, having hundreds of brief and beautiful connections with individuals and talking about big policy ideas to masses. It is so tempting to want that back. But it came with a cost. I didn’t realize it in the moment, but in the process of becoming so incredibly busy at the task of trying to convince masses of people to like us enough to vote for us, I had started to derive my own self worth by the ways in which I was perceived by an audience of potential voters.

In the height of campaigns I didn’t realize it, but I was becoming addicted to affirmation and adrenaline. At times, it was as if I believed that the thing that kept me alive was other people knowing that I was alive. If they forgot about me, then I would no longer exist. That sounds so strange to me now, but it was very real to me then – even if I didn’t acknowledge it. The fear of being forgotten, of no longer being relevant, was one of the strongest fears I had ever experienced.

But you know what happens when the thing you fear the most comes to pass? You stop fearing it. One of my former colleagues is fond of saying “there’s nothing deader than a former politician.” When my involuntary retirement from politics came, it was like being thrown from a train that had been going faster and faster – until suddenly, it was moving, but I wasn’t. It didn’t slow down or stop; I was just thrown off. That coincided with the isolation of the pandemic, so my options for finding footing again – at least among masses of people – were limited.

I retreated to nature. At first, it was difficult to be still. I’ve heard that when soldiers return from war, they have a hard time with things most people consider to be a part of daily life – like sitting in a restaurant. I’ve never been to war, but I think maybe the same brain chemical is produced in campaigns. It was difficult to will my body to be comfortable in stillness and silence. But when I did, I started to get glimpses of what being alive felt like. It wasn’t dependent on affirmation of the masses. That was an awareness I used to have – long before politics – but had lost. It is an authentic connection with others, without being dependent on them for acceptance and approval. And it’s a recognition of the constant flow of energy connecting us all to each other and to this living earth. I had lost this awareness somewhere in my busyness, and I am working diligently to get it back. This project is about that journey to find it again.

And the Rocky Shoals Spider Lilies

Between the months of May and June – roughly from Mothers Day to Fathers Day each year – one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced happens: the rocky shoals spiders lilies bloom. Landsford Canal, in the Catawba River between Chester and Lancaster Counties, has the largest outcropping of these hearty but endangered spider lilies in the world!

You can view the lilies from the trail at Landsford Canal State Park, where park admission is just $6 per adult, $3.75 for a senior citizen, and $3.50 for a child (as of 2023). It’s on the honor system. You put your money in an envelope and leave it in a drop box at the entrance. Karma is real, y’all. Pay your park admission honestly. Then just park and start walking south, or to your right as you face the river. You can choose the nature trail, the canal trail, or the eagle point trail. All are very easy hikes. The canal trail is the longest and most popular, especially in lily season, as it takes you to the lookout for the lilies.

A second option for viewing the lilies involves more adventure – and sometimes more danger, so take stock of yourself before you embark – and that option is to kayak to the lilies. My favorite springtime excursion is to take friends who’ve never seen the lilies on a leisurely kayak trip to see them. We pack a picnic and have our lunch or dinner on the rocks and then head to the takeout. There’s something sublime and majestic about floating among those beautiful flowers – especially when they’re at their peak bloom. Mitch and I have been known to do office work out there in the rocks because I want to be there every day possible during the season and I’d rather do work in my kayak than work in the office!

If you choose to kayak to the lilies, I recommend going with a guide, especially if it’s your first time. I take many friends who are first-timers (if the flows are below 5,000 cubic feet per second) and give them a kayak lesson as we go. Local guides know what the differing flows mean for the rocky shoals. My favorite local guide (maybe the only truly local guide) is Great Falls Adventures. It’s a small business run by a lifelong resident of the area who loves this part of the river as much as I do. And he knows the river. Rapids are not the same in this area as you may have experienced them in other places. They’re often milder, but don’t let that make you too comfortable. The rock outcroppings can be difficult for inexperienced paddlers to maneuver and you really don’t want to broadside a rock in heavy flows, or take a route that gets you continually stuck on rocks in lighter ones. One positive is that in most – but not all – parts of the Landsford Canal area, you can stand up if you fall out. But I’ve seen people sink their boats or lose their paddles in such circumstances – and several friends (including me) have had to replace their phones. Also, NEVER paddle without a life vest. And take some water.

The spring of 2022 had several days of exceptionally fast water. And it also seemed to have a large percentage of elderly and otherwise inexperienced kayakers who seemed to have been told that they could just “float” to the lilies. A friend and I did several impromptu water rescues that spring. I recall one day at the height of the season where we saw about a half dozen sinking boats and their former occupants hanging onto tree branches they had grabbed as their kayaks went on without them. As much as I want people to experience the wonder of this phenomenon, it’s important to consider whether the trail may be a better fit. It’s equally important that no matter if you’ve been planning the paddle for weeks, that you not get on the river if the flows are higher than your skill level – and you must evaluate that based on USGS data and not by eyeballing the water at the put in. It always looks relatively calm.

Now that I’ve given context and warnings, let’s talk about the beauty of the place…

I am not a botanist, and what I know about the lilies is just what I’ve picked up – and maybe even unintentionally made up – over the years, but I think it’s essentially correct and its borne out by my experiences too. These lilies only grow in rocks in rushing waters. That’s why they’re so rare and endangered – even though they’re exceptionally hearty. Some years – like 2018 – they’re completely flooded out, but then they come back the next year. Dams and development have destroyed many of the habitats in which they thrive. Also DO NOT PICK THEM or try to take the bulbs home with you. Both of these are criminal offenses and these lilies will not grow in your yard! It’s also decidedly NOT cute to have an endangered lily in your hair!

Each flower blooms for a day and each stalk has a yesterday, today, and tomorrow bloom. The yesterday bloom has wilted and is hanging. The tomorrow bloom is still closed. As we get closer to the end of lily season, these flowers seem to follow the life cycle of women. They look robust at their peak and they seem to follow the rules of the yesterday, today and tomorrow blooms. As they near the end of the season, fewer bloom, but many still do. They start to look more lacy and delicate. And the ones that bloom are more likely to have twins and triplets.

I try to keep visiting them until the last of them has gone. It may be silly but I think of them like the elderly and fewer and fewer people come to see them towards the end, so I try to keep visiting until the end. See you next year, lilies.

The Largest Sculpture Garden in America

I have had this blog domain for more than a year and had not yet posted anything. I am going to stop letting the perfect be the enemy of the good (or the “done”) and so this will be my first entry in a series spotlighting experiences that feed the soul in my beloved state of South Carolina.

I remember Brookgreen Gardens from my childhood as a hot and miserable place with a lot of walking and not much I wanted to do. I grew up in the 1970s and 80s and my mom loved flowers and trees and art and all things beautiful. My dad did whatever she wanted to do, so we would sometimes head to Brookgreen Gardens on our annual week-long vacation to Myrtle Beach in the summer. Ironic that I later found a picture of her in her 20s, shortly after she married my dad; she was at Brookgreen in front of the Pegasus statue, and on the back she had written “ugh…miserably hot.”

I know how lucky I am to live in circumstances such that mid-July is not my only option for travel as it was for my parents, who worked for the local cotton mill and had a very limited number of vacation days. Mitch and I have our own firm and much of our work can be done from anywhere we choose. And that means – among other things- that we can enjoy Brookgreen during the more temperate Spring and Fall months. We brought the kids when they were little and they loved the zoo! The park focuses on plants and animals that are indigenous to South Carolina and celebrates the unparalleled beauty of our state. Although many of the sculptures are created by artists from all over the world, the natural elements are strictly local – and they remind me (as I often become a bit cynical) that South Carolina is one of the most graceful and majestic places in the world.

Last night, Mitch and I had tickets to Brookgreen’s annual Night of a Thousand Candles for the first time. I have tried for years to get tickets, but am always too late. This year, I put an alarm on my phone for August 1st (and every day thereafter) and was able to buy two tickets for each of two nights – hedging my bets in case of rain or schedule conflicts. Last night was our first – and it was indescribable. There were maybe a couple thousand people there, but the atmosphere was not the hectic carnival feel that you get when a theme park lights up for the holidays. It was a combination of reverence and giddy joy . . . and I could feel the oxytocin pumping into my bloodstream as soon as we entered that peaceful realm.

So today, I told Mitch that I wanted us to become members of the Brookgreen President’s Council. With that, our family will get unlimited admission during regular hours year round, eight guest passes, and – my favorite part – eight complimentary tickets to Night of a Thousand Candles! We’re coming back once more this season with friends and then we’ll start planning for next year! Even the kids are getting excited about returning to the park with our new membership – and that makes me even happier! If you’re interested in Brookgreen Gardens and all it has to offer, click here to explore their site.

The history of Brookgreen Gardens is – as most historic things involving massive amounts of manicured land and daily maintenance – rooted in industrialism, with predictable remnants of colonialism and significant wealth gaps. Problematic truths aside, though, it is undeniable that Archer and Anna Hyatt Huntington used their unfathomable wealth to create something sublime to share with the world. If you’re interested in this history of the Gardens, click here for a video or here to read about the Huntingtons. Anna Hyatt Huntington was an amazing artist and inspirational woman. I learned about her when I was a child in school and she sculpted the massive statue of Andrew Jackson on a horse for Andrew Jackson State Park. I had never known of a woman doing something on such a massive scale as that huge sculpture and I remember being inspired by her. She was also in her 90s when she did it. Several of the sculptures in the park were created by her.

Brookgreen Gardens is located off Highway 17 Bypass between Murrells Inlet and Pawleys Island in the area known as South Carolina’s Hammock Coast. The park’s hours are generally 9:30am to 5pm Monday through Friday. Pets are not allowed. I think you can bring outside food in but I know you can’t bring pets. Adult admission is $22, Seniors $20, and kids (12 and under) $12. Of course that’s as of November 2023 and could change. More good news: when you buy a ticket, it’s good for seven consecutive days.

Hope you enjoy Brookgreen Gardens like we did!