Literature

Magnolias are believed to be the earliest known flowering plants, dating back to over 100 million years

The Flower of the South

This iconic bloom has become a symbol of the South

Magnolia trees existed before bees, so they rely on beetles for pollination. The magnolia flowers can grow as large as 12 inches across and consist of up to 18 leathery petals.

Petal Powered The Southern Magnolia in bloom

The magnolia is named after French botanist Pierre Magnol.

The magnolia is the official state flower of both Mississippi and Louisiana

Palmetto Sound

The exclusive, behind-thescenes story of one of the biggest bands of the nineties

In 1985, Mark Bryan heard Darius Rucker singing in a dorm shower at the University of South Carolina and asked him to form a band. For the next eight years, Hootie & the Blowfish—completed by bassist Dean Felber and drummer Soni Sonefeld— played every frat house, roadhouse, and rock club in the mid-Atlantic and Southeast, becoming one of the biggest independent acts in the region. In Only Wanna Be with You, Tim Sommer, the ultimate insider who signed Hootie to Atlantic Records, pulls back the curtain on a band that defied record-industry odds to break into the mainstream by playing hacky sack music in the age of grunge. He chronicles the band's indie days; the charttopping success—and near-cancelation— of their major-label debut, cracked rear view; the year of Hootie (1995) when the album reached no. 1, the "Only Wanna Be with You" music video collaboration with ESPN's SportsCenter became a sensation, and the band inspired a plotline on the TV show Friends; the lean years from the late 1990s through the early 2000s; Darius Rucker's history-making rise in country music; and one of the most remarkable comeback stories of the century. Featuring extensive new interviews with the band members, some of their most famous fans, and stories from the recording studio, tour bus, and golf course, this book is essential reading for Hootie lovers and music buffs. AM

The University of South Carolina Press $26.99

JENNIFER HOWARD

Jennifer has a passion for land, water, and a good road trip. She spends her days telling the stories of protected places and her free time making memories with her family, taking lousy selfies, and learning new crafts that she never finishes.

State Park Pajamas

by Jennifer Howard

Mama always said, “Don’t leave home without clean underwear in case you’re in an accident.” It’s a bit of sage wisdom that was routinely met with a roll of the eyes and an assurance I’d never leave home any other way. Then again, if I’m in an accident, no one will know or even care about the pre-accident state of my undergarments. Those are thoughts for another day. What I will say as a mom of two and somewhat frequent solo traveler is “Always pack your best pajamas for a visit to a state park cabin – and maybe your slippers too.” Trust me on this one. Table Rock State Park is deliciously cool – a welcome chilly to the often oppressive humidity of the Lowcountry. And in January, the park delivers a multi-week polar blast that makes a trip to Patagonia look like Cancun. I know that because this past January, the South Carolina Land Trust Network chose the popular state park as the site of our annual gathering. It was my first major event as their part-time executive director and I was determined to deliver a precisely executed, multi-day event with many memorable moments. Memorable moments. Joke’s on me. The first day should have been an omen. The park alerted us that their historic CCC-era lodge was experiencing a problem with the heat. Help was on the way and in the meantime, massive fireplaces and an endless supply of gift shop firewood would help knock the edge off. Not a problem, we assured them. We are, afterall, a group of conservation professionals, folks who earn a living from the land and we proceeded to stock their commercial kitchen with enough drinks and happy hour supplies to keep our members well-inspired. Sun set on the eve of the main event, and we retired to the comfort of our heated cabins.

After what seemed like little more than a long nap, morning came. Eager to start the day, I started the water for a hot shower and stepped on the porch to breathe in the mountain air. A perfect start to a perfect day, until the door quietly shut behind me. Click. It was dark. It was cold and no amount of knob rattling, or prayer was going to get me back in to my cabin where the steam was rolling out of the shower. It was just me and hibernating sasquatches. I quickly considered the amount of time it takes one to die from hypothermia, noted that I was at an inflection point, and set out on the long, dark walk to the cabins down the road, in my newish pajamas and wool slippers with, how appropriate,

It was cold and no amount of knob rattling, or prayer was going to get me back in to my cabin where the steam was rolling out of the shower.