Bugby Plantation U-Pick: Ye shall know them by their fruits

By James DeLo

Photo Caption and Credit – Bugby Plantation

James DeLo holds a basket of fresh strawberries obtained at the Bugby Plantation U-Pick.

PHOTO BY CHARLES W. WARING III

A vanishing scene from the Lowcountry

In a curious nook of Wadmalaw Island, far from the anxieties and stresses of urban centers, there lies a bucolic farm:  Bugby Plantation U-Pick. Immediately upon entering the quaint farm, one is returned to a vanishing atmosphere of the old Lowcountry. Live oaks and pines mark the entrance, and wildflowers and wooden posts separate the road from the crops. It is a lovely pastoral setting that stirs the soul.

The old wretch and I first had the pleasure of meeting Preston Wilson when we arrived at the farm. He, through his family roots and current residential experience, is an island boy of the earliest days, and, of course, he was accompanied by his black Lab — a sweet fellow who made himself known at once. Mr. Wilson resides in the town of Rockville, not too far from the farm. “Town,” as the wretch chuckled, is a rather generous four-letter word in this case. He helps run the u-pick for the farmer, who happens to be his cousin, Adair McKoy.

Mr. Wilson told us a bit about his experience working the u-pick:  “Well, when school’s out for spring or summer break, we’re inundated with a lot of moms, dads and their children. A bunch of them will come during the weekend, but it’s kind of quiet during the week. Saturdays are the big day and are always busy.”

There was something about the farm that immediately resonated with me, that we are all, in one way or another, rooted in agriculture. It is the labor of our forefathers and thus recalls a time when much of America was made up of mostly yeomen farmers and planters. Likewise, it is easy to overlook, in our commercial age, that we are all dependent upon agriculture for our survival. These things are easily forgotten at the grocery store, but at the u-pick, you see the exchange plainly:  from the crop to the farmer and then to the consumer.

The sweetest taste of the countryside

After chatting with Mr. Wilson, we finally met Mr. Adair McKoy, the sole farmer responsible for planting the fields nearby. Mr. McKoy warmly welcomed us and promptly showed us the various bells and whistles involved in planting at Bugby Plantation.

“I have opened strawberry patches as early as March 10 and as late as April 14,” Mr. McKoy explained. “It all depends on the weather.” This year, the farm opened in late March due to an unusually long winter. “It was a real winter this year; the plants remained in dormancy about two weeks longer than normal,” he said.

Customers arrive at a tin shed and are given a gallon bucket, or as many buckets as they choose. Each bucket is $20, reduced from a peak of $30, which is indeed a fair match for grocery store prices. And I must say, after eating one of the strawberries I picked, I was full of the joys of spring. I am not exaggerating when I say this was the most delicious strawberry I have ever tasted, and if that’s an exaggeration, the strawberry started it.

Readers may expect strawberry picking to continue until the end of the month, as long as the field is spared from a heavy pouring or the inevitable heatwave, either of which could shorten the lifespan of the crop. After the strawberry crop finishes its course, Mr. McKoy remarked he will “harvest tomatoes on the 29th of this month. Typically, we start around the 10th of June, but I was able to plant tomatoes early this year. The Lord protected them because we had frost on the 18th and 19th, and the tomatoes survived the frost.” Those tomatoes will also be available for you to pick, along with okra, squash, zucchini, peppers, eggplant and corn — much like the strawberry picking setup.

My chat with Mr. McKoy further reminded me of the complexities and hardships of a farmer’s life. For the cosmopolitan, bad weather is simply a headache that prompts one to dust off the rain boots, nobly complain, then reward oneself with a latte. But the routine of life generally prevails otherwise. For the farmer, the weather carries considerable weight, bearing directly upon the wellbeing of the crop and the farmer’s own livelihood.

The real harvest

Yet for Mr. McKoy, there is solace from the stresses and worries of farm life, which are found firmly in his faith. “Jesus said what makes you unfruitful is the worries of this life, the deception of wealth, and the desire for other things. Those three things are what will make a Christian unfruitful,” he said. The strawberry farm is about far more than harvesting crops for Mr. McKoy; it is about cultivating souls and watching faith take root. The aforementioned tin shed, for example, is decorated with verses from Psalms, which Mr. McKoy says allows people to come in and comment on them. “They said, ‘Oh, that’s one of my favorites.’ So that opens up a conversation and absolutely allows you to witness.”

Mr. McKoy quipped that the farm also serves as a quiet refuge — if you walk around long enough, you may even hear the oysters click. He has noticed that some customers wander the farm for long stretches, not looking for anything in particular, but because farm life feels so far removed from their everyday world. For them, it becomes a way to slow down and settle themselves.

The last two generations of the McKoy family have been farming in the Lowcountry for around 40 years, from Edisto to Seabrook. Although the u-pick farm was always a “side gig” for Mr. McKoy, it now serves as his main priority. “What I love most is that I get to meet my customer. Before growing commercially, I could send tractor-trailer load after tractor-trailer load of tomatoes out, and my biggest concern was just money. How much profit am I going to make? That changed when it became a u-pick, as I got to know my customers personally.”

It was around this time in the conversation that a gentleman named Chris Sosnowski arrived. With a broad grin and an impressive walrus mustache, he informed us that he and his brother John were the property owners of Bugby Plantation, which had been in his family for quite some time. For Chris, the farm and Adair’s work are “a way to continue my dad and grandfather’s legacy of farming this place all of his life and keeping this property agricultural.” But much like Mr. McKoy, Mr. Sosnowski expressed a deeper sentiment:  “The real harvest here is people’s hearts, to be able to share the good message as stewards of this property.”

It was evident that Bugby Plantation’s philosophy of life is grounded in a genuine concern for the wellbeing of those who visit. Whether it be Mr. Wilson’s warm welcome, Mr. McKoy’s lively spirit or his hearty humor, those associated with the farm carry a spirit of compassion. At Bugby Plantation, the fruit is sweet, but it is not the only thing cultivated. 

In every row of strawberries, sweet corn or okra, every conversation beneath the tin shed, and every quiet soul wandering the field, Mr. McKoy sees an opportunity to plant something more lasting. Maybe it’s something about the soil that inspires, or the salt marsh breezes, or the views of live oaks that soldier on; it’s likely the real answer lies in what we don’t see, which plays a part in everything good about this part of the world.