Column: Outdoor men of letters
Being a native Georgian, I didn’t grow up reading South Carolina writers. Nor do I recall reading Georgia writers, but I read a lot. Hemmed in as I was by
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Being a native Georgian, I didn’t grow up reading South Carolina writers. Nor do I recall reading Georgia writers, but I read a lot. Hemmed in as I was by
From afar, the skyline looks like that of a city, and it is. Myrtle Beach’s skyline of hotels seems to dwarf the skyline of all other South Carolina cities. It
“Chasing the Swamp Ghost” caught my eye, and I read Garden & Gun’s feature about photographer Bobby Harrison’s quest to capture irrefutable evidence that the ivorybill woodpecker still lives. As
I’ve long felt that two of South Carolina’s prettier community names are Silverstreet and Lone Star. Silverstreet I’ve seen many times. Those names, evocative and atmospheric, charm the ear. One
Dad had a saying. “I won’t let it whip me.” He prevailed over stubborn bolts, obstinate lawn mowers, welding projects, and just about anything that crossed his path, except one