The Garden

As little girls, we loved dirt. We loved the way it felt between our toes. We loved to sift sandy soil through our fingers. We loved to dig and build “sand houses” with dirt and lumber scraps. We loved to get dirty. And we loved to make mud pies—and even pretend to eat them, sometimes tasting with our tongues.

But dirt was much more than fun for us and a nuisance for Momma, who had to clean our clothes—and us. For generations, Daufuskie dirt fed our family. No, it wasn’t on our menu, but the island’s rich, sandy soil nourished a large share of what we ate—from the berry bushes in the woods, to the grass our animals ate, to the garden we tended most months of the year.