Winter is coming (finally) here in the lowcountry of South Carolina, which means the temperatures get down to the 50’s. The trees aren’t completely bare, and as recently as a few weeks ago I could still find camillas still in bloom, but everything looks a bit more gray. I’ve been feeling myself want to hibernate a bit, curl up and shut the world away. This is a natural response to the waning of the sun, and God knows winter will be brief enough this far south. Before I know it, we’ll be back to 95 degree, 6,000% humidity days.
I’ve been in Summerville, 25 miles outside Charleston, since September, when my mother was diagnosed with cancer, to help her through treatment. (She will be fine, cancer-wise). My parents retired down here 12 years ago, and while it’s never been my home, I’ve become quite familiar with the place over the years.
It’s kind of a picture-perfect southern town: old storefronts lining the main street, now full of eateries, coffee shops, and a mix of touristy gift shops and businesses that cater to locals. There’s a giant store store dedicated entirely to quilting run by unassuming old ladies in sweatshirts and orthopedic shoes; it’s not the kind of high-end boutique that sells quilts as some kind of precious folk-art for thousands of dollars, it is truly for middle and working class southern ladies who like to quilt. Next door is a fancy and surprisingly avant-garde arts center run by old ladies in funky glasses and designer suits, a little piece of the old-money Charleston arts scene here in Summerville.
Everywhere you go there are tall pines dropping their needles onto the roadsides and lawns; emblazoned on the arch over the town square is the motto “Let the pine be sacred.” Giant spreading live oaks and graceful crape myrtles drip with Spanish moss year round and flowers bloom through most of the year. The town was once a summer getaway for Charleston planters and later a Victorian-era health resort (the turpentine released into the air by the pines was believed to be good for tuberculosis); as a result the streets are lined with big old clapboard houses slung with wide front porches. Honestly, I’m surprised they’ve never filmed a Hallmark movie here.
There are, of course, many churches; the mainline denominations having old and prominent buildings near the center of town. Out on the surrounding roads you find, as you do everywhere in the south, the weird churches: the primitive Baptist and pentecostal congregations with buildings that are utilitarian, small, and shabby, these were built by poor-but-proud country people and are now languishing. Nowadays if someone wants the old time religion they get it in one of the slick modern theater-style evangelical and pentecostal churches found in shopping centers and office parks.
My favorite church, though the oddest, from a southern perspective, is a Russian Orthodox church tucked into an alley between the storefronts along the town square. The alley used to be open during the day with icons and votives set up, nowadays it’s almost always locked. One of the priests is something of a local eccentric; he once roped me into having lunch with him at a tea-shop so he could show me his photo album.
Over the years, there have been some changes. It was once more typically southern and conservative, closer to the stereotype of the south that Yankees usually have. There is still a store called “Dixie Outfitters” emblazoned with confederate flags on the outskirts of town, as well as a giant gun armory. But the development around Charleston has spread to Summerville; there’s a new, upscale shopping center out by the interstate, the shops and restaurants in town are slowly becoming trendier, and the biggest harbinger of gentrification, the gays, are moving into town
The racial and political lines defy a lot of conventional wisdom. There are still segregated areas of the greater Charleston area, and I’m sure there are people who have far more insight into the racial dynamic than I do, but in Summerville you’ll see black and white families chatting casually at the tapas bar; black lesbians taking engagement photos at a nearby plantation, and the Air Force base in North Charleston ensures there are plenty of young, ethnically diverse families. Most of these people are probably evangelical and hold somewhat traditional viewpoints, regardless of how they vote (South Carolina Democrats are notoriously conservative).
At any rate, it’s a pretty nice place to cocoon into for the barely-there winter. Once it gets hot again and the bugs and gators start to show themselves, I may feel differently.
Appearance on Out Into the Desert
I was interviewed by Karl and Laura Forehand on their podcast, Out Into the Desert, last week. We talked about mysticism vs magic, my spiritual journey, and why I think it’s valuable to engage with traditional religion while still finding your own path outside of it. I really enjoyed the conversation and I think you will too, so please check it out.
Lastly, I do have a podcast episode I’ve been sitting on and will drop later this week, another advice column, and some other pieces I’ve been working on about Paganism and Christianity. I hope you all are enjoying your holiday/solstice season and finding time to slow down if you need to.
Your writing is lovely-- definitely made me long for a visit and a local experience
Beautiful and evocative, Rebekah!