— Gator Bait? —

July 31, 2006 – If you're a regular visitor to this web site, you know that I live in South Carolina. What you may not know is that I was born and raised in upstate New York — Rochester, to be exact. Here in the deep South northern transplants such as myself are quietly referred to by native Southerners as Yankees, or, depending on the circumstances, damn Yankees.

The Yankee label is something we northerners can't shake, no matter how long we live here. Southerners will tolerate us and a few may even like us, but in their eyes we are — forever — Yankees. I don't really think of myself as a Yankee except, perhaps, in the dead of summer after a week of sweltering 100+ degree days. That's when I wish I was back in upstate New York (Yankee territory) where the summers are more reasonable. I also revisit my Yankee roots in the winter when I read about massive blizzards blanketing the northeast. While I wallow in the warm winter sunshine, I congratulate myself for having had the good sense to relocate 30 years ago.

Middleton Plantation
Last week my husband (a native Mississippian) and I had the singular pleasure of spending several days at Middleton Place, a true southern retreat where I never felt more like a Yankee. (But that's only because it was like visiting some magical foreign land!)

Located on the banks of the Ashley River near Charleston, SC, Middleton is one of the crown jewels of the South. The sprawling plantation was established in 1741 by Henry Middleton, who later became President of the First Continental Congress. Over the past two centuries Middleton Place was subjected to the stress of the American Revolution, burning and looting from the Civil War, structural upheaval by the Great Charleston Earthquake, and, finally, the destructive force of Hurricane Hugo.

Despite these challenges, along with a few others, it has survived. Today the carefully restored 65-acre plantation is alive and thriving. It features a House Museum, an original slave cottage, a grist mill, stableyards, an equestrian center, an award-winning Inn and a lovely Low Country restaurant.

But best of all, in my eyes, is the land itself. Lush woodlands, impeccably landscaped terraces, shadowy walkways overhung by giant oaks dripping with Spanish moss, flooded rice fields wrapped in duckweed and teaming with aquatic wildlife (including some very large alligators), meandering footpaths, a vast rice mill pond, a deep dark reflection pool, formal "butterfly" lakes, showy waterfowl of all descriptions, plus a wide assortment of nocturnal creatures. (While wandering alone at dawn I encountered a wild bobcat!)

I know it's trite, but a picture REALLY is worth a thousand words, so without further ado...

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