Life between the hills and the sea

Published 12:11 pm Tuesday, August 5, 2025

By Josh Lanier

Sitting on a balcony overlooking a swirling sea of spartina grass, I was waiting out a passing summer storm. The lightning sliced the dark skies into ribbons, and the thunder echoed back and forth between the ceiling of low-hanging clouds and the flat land below. The storm had evidently driven a great number of egrets from their hiding places in the hummocks, and they had perched in wax myrtle or yaupon trees, eyeing the tidal creeks for what the wind and deluge of rain had stirred up. We drove 250 miles to gain this perspective, to experience an environment somewhat different from the one we are normally inclined. But for a few times every year, the coastal plain of the Lowcountry is home, at least for a little while. 

To me, there’s not much difference other than geography. Just as I have some familial connections to this region, the plant and animal species here are merely distant cousins of the ones back home. In my limited understanding of geology and hydrology, the grains of sand on the beaches are but millions of worn pieces of quartz that originated in the Appalachian plateau some 20,000 years ago, after the glaciers receded and massive erosion events occurred after the last ice age. The river systems that I paralleled and crossed over through the Piedmont, the sandhills, and across the lowlands are the same rivers that carry sediment-rich waters from their beginnings in the mountains to mix with the saltwater of the Atlantic. 

At last, the rumbles of thunder and gales of wind moved off to the north, and the heavy rain had dissipated. Though the storms lasted most of the afternoon, and we were confined inside our tiny condo, it was a great relief from the oppressive heat of the last few days. As soon as the sky started to clear, we gathered a few things and hit the street toward the beach to enjoy what little bit of daylight and breeze was left over after the storms passed through. It turned out to be a nice evening. Our teenage daughters ran in and out of the waves along the edge, and my wife and I spent time sprawled out in our chairs just enjoying each other’s company.

Later on, we walked the pier to check out the bands playing and to see if anyone was catching fish. We always enjoy people watching and having a drink while swaying to the music. By the end of the evening, before heading back in for the night, I found myself staring out across the dark expanse of the ocean. The waves in the moonlight appeared as so many mountains arching their backs in the distance for as far as the eye can see. I admit it, I got a little homesick. 

In a few days, we will leave and head back to the foot of the mountains, and there we will reside for a time before heading back to the Lowcountry in the spring. Tonight as I sleep, my dreams will carry me home to the Upcountry, just as my dreams at home often take place in the marsh on an incoming tide, usually with a fly rod in hand, scanning the shallows for redfish. 

There is no real separation for me when it comes to my love for the natural world, especially when it comes to the various habitats and ecosystems here in the Carolinas. It is all like home to me.