Summer Vacation - Day 3

Day 3 - Heading to SC and Cousin Joyce's

I was awakened this morning by a phone call.

Connie: "Darcy peed in the bed. Come and handle it." 

And we were off! 

We set a time of departure for 11:00 A.M., and we actually stuck to it. We were on the road by that time with Tom at the wheel in charge, no rain forecasted, and nothing but blue skies. We weren't falling for that, however, so the "Weather Tech" luggage carrier was full of luggage wrapped in trash bags....just in case.

My MapQuest directions were pretty simple. Get on 95 to US 17 N and then turn left on Tidwin Rd. and then went on Palmers Ridge where our Cousin Joyce lives. It would be approximately 2 hours and 35 minutes. Our Boston relatives, Maya, Jay, and two children, were coming in by plane and would rent a car and drive from Charleston. They were landing at 10:30 A.M. with about a 40-minute drive. We were hoping to arrive within an hour of each other.

Ha, ha, ha!

We did just fine driving along with only one pit stop at the Mt. Pleasant Welcome Center, but then it was downhill. We hit traffic, and it was stop-and-go as we hit lights and motored along at a snail's pace. Tom was a tad annoyed and even more so at the directions. Past the lights, US 17 was a four-lane road with nothing but a forest of trees on either side. If we saw a drive, it was made of dirt and looked to be headed nowhere. 

We drove into Historic McClellanville and drove out of Historic McClellanville, all in one minute. The town is actually smaller than Dugger, IN. Now you see it, now you don't. We saw a diner, a gas station, and some other buildings of questionable origins. We kept driving looking for Tidwin, but after 15 minutes, we realized we had passed it. We decided to call Cousin Joyce, but alas, we had not brought the phone number. We called Jay instead, and Joyce got on the phone to give directions. They were as follows:

Joyce: (spoken in her true southern accent) "WwwwwEeeeeLlllllLllll. Where are you all? What? You already saw the historic district? Oh, shoot, that was something we were going to do for an activity. Take everyone into the historic district. WwwwwEeeeeLllllLllll. Where are you? Okay, well, you need to turn around and come back on 17. You will get to a light. There is only one light. Yeah, that is the light, turn right. That is Randall Rd. You all just passed Tidwin when you were coming. Well, it is a tiny dirt road. I just didn't think of giving you all directions." 

Me: "Uh..."

Joyce: "I'm sorry, I guess I should have emailed you all some directions. Okay, you are on Randall. WwwwwEeeeeLllll, you travel on that road for about a half a mile. No, more like a mile. It is pretty long. You go on that road for like two miles, and then you will come to what we South Carolina folks call the "five points." When you come to that, you will see a dirt road to your right. WwwwEeeeeLllll there will be two roads to your right with a first road, and then a tad up there will be the second road. They are right together. There will be the first road, but you won't take that road. Well, I don't think I'm explaining that very well. Picture a star. You will want to turn at the point of the star that is toward the bottom. Start at the top of the star, and it won't be the first point to your right, but the second point. Sort of like turning and then having to turn in like a U-turn."

Needless to say, we went down at least 3 of the "5 points" roads until we found the correct way, which led us to Cousin Joyce's driveway. At this point, we realized we were in the middle of nowhere. And I mean nowhere. Joyce had told us she had a bedroom in the house for Connie and a small guest house with a pull out couch downstairs and a bedroom upstairs with a double bed and two twins. We were expecting a bunkhouse with lots of spiders in the windows. Driving down these bumpy dirt roads, we were expecting the worst.

We turned into Joyce's road and traveled toward the house we could see hidden behind trees. Once we cleared the trees, we were in the middle of the most beautiful piece of picturesque property that I have ever seen. It was like something from the movies.

The house is a two-story building with a substantial southern front porch complete with four white rocking chairs, a porch swing, and a hammock.

The inside is decorated with antiques from Joyce and James' childhood. Windows cover the entire house, and each window comes with its own view.

From the large wooden kitchen table, you look out at what Jay and I call the bayou, but in South Carolina, it is a swamp. The most beautiful swamp with trees and hanging Spanish moss. The windows from the living room look out at the guest house and trees with swings for the kids. There is a herb garden and a vegetable garden.

The opposite side of the house looks out at the wooden barn and the pump house, which looks like a little house in itself. The front of the house overlooks the yard and the fenced-in field high with Argentine Bahia grass. There are egrets, hummingbirds, green herons, wild deer, frogs, and alligators.

We sat on the front porch and drank sweet iced tea laced with mint from the garden and fresh shrimp salad. The weather is perfect with a breeze to keep us comfortable swinging on the front porch and no rain in sight.

We talked and caught up and then decided to check out our sleeping quarters. We couldn't have paid for a better place. It is a cottage nestled beneath the trees. We have a living room, a fully stocked kitchen, a laundry room with a bathroom and shower. Upstairs are two bedrooms, one with twin beds, the other with a queen bed and there is a bathroom.

The back door leads to a small porch and rose garden, and it too looks out on the "bayou." The front windows look out on the neighbor's pond, but we are not to trample on to this property, although the call of the hammock hung between two trees.

We sipped mojitos with fresh mint and chowed down on roast beef and veggies from the garden. We talked into the night at the kitchen table as our family is known to do, frogs listening to us as they attached themselves to the windows overlooking the "bayou."

We are seriously in the middle of a magical haven.