The difference was dramatic. In 2024, the Conservancy distributed a few hundred bundles of sweetgrass total. This year, in August alone, more than 350 plants were harvested and delivered directly to artisans in Mount Pleasant and Johns Island.“ This is the largest harvest we’ ve ever had,” said Corey Alston, fifth-generation sweetgrass artisan and Conservancy partner.“ Enough to last makers through January, almost half a year of material. That’ s remarkable.”
“ It’ s been a lot of hard work and a lot of learning,” said Peggy Barnes, Chair of the Conservancy’ s Board of Trustees.“ But the gratitude we’ ve seen from the artists tells us we’ re on the right path. This isn’ t just about plants. It’ s about supporting a cultural tradition that has defined this landscape for centuries.”
On an unseasonably cool morning in early September, the volunteers, once again led by Sean, returned to the field to build on the successful first harvest. After a few hours of whirring hedge trimmers, good-natured banter, and the clicking of zip ties, the twenty or so volunteers and staff gathered around a truck bed overflowing with sweetgrass.
The Conservancy’ s second harvest added an extra 800 plants— an exponential increase from 2024— bringing the total annual harvest to over
1,100 plants. If this trend continues, the annual yield could continue to rise, making an essential cultural resource more plentiful and available.
For the sweetgrass artists, the work is more than a supply of materials— it is cultural preservation. As sweetgrass grew increasingly scarce due to development and private property restrictions, the artists began to use alternatives, such as bulrush and long leaf pine needles.
In the hands of sweetgrass artisans, each blade becomes part of a larger story, sewn into baskets that embody the skill, resilience, and artistry of the Gullah Geechee people. To preserve sweetgrass is to preserve that story, ensuring it continues to be told in kitchens, markets, and museums alike.
The Conservancy’ s sweetgrass project is young, but it has already attracted the attention of cultural partners, artisans, and community leaders. With more harvests ahead and new methods refined, the fields promise not only continuity but also growth— grass renewing itself, traditions being handed forward, heritage woven strand by strand. Morgan Farah, the Conservancy’ s Horticultural Specialist, summed it up simply:“ You cut a bundle of grass, you hand it to an artist, and you know it’ s going to become something beautiful. That’ s worth every bit of effort.”
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