A Trip to Port St. Joe

Last month, I participated in 4 shows in as many weeks. It was a busy    October. There were shows in Fairhope, Pensacola, Destin and Pensacola,    again. I ended the fall shows with The Great Gulf Coast Art Fest in  my  hometown. How welcome I was by old friends and new.

There were many art enthusiasts who, on seeing my work for the first time,  appreciated it on many levels, particularly my unique depiction of our Gulf  Coast.

On a national level this art festival is rated very well and draws hundreds of  thousands of people from several states.

I am so very grateful for the sales I made and extremely fulfilled by the many compliments I received and the people whose hearts I so clearly touched. Thank you to all who came by my booth and shared in my vision.

I took off for Port St. Joe to recharge last weekend. A 3 hour drive east of Pensacola, it is an easy get-away destination. I have been there several times before. The last three times I have rented a small cottage at the base of St. Joe Bay. Tucked away in the Pines, Oaks and Palmettos, there is little in the way of modern comforts.

But there is a screened in porch, a fabulous view and the prettiest sunsets. There is the sound of the Gulf and the stillness of the Bay. There are pelicans and seagulls, osprey and egrets, seashells, horseshoe crabs and the smell of salt in the air. There are no sounds of man. Quiet. Mother nature. The sea. And me.

There is Cape San Blas nearby which affords the naturalist a walk of incredible beauty. Miles and miles of Cape and there is nothing to see but beach, bay, pines, scrub oaks and palmettos, wild deer, sea life and seashells. Dunes of sugar white welcomed me as I crossed the Cape to the Gulf Side. There the view changes and the sound of the waves fill my ears, the wind cools my skin, and seashells fill my pockets.  I am at one with my surroundings.

There is the Lighthouse and the beach of fallen trees. There is the charming town of Apalachicola, with it’s slow pace, southern comforts, fisherman, boats, porches and oysters. There is Mexico Beach, St. Vincent Island and St. George. No coffee shops or movie theaters. No fancy restaurants, few clothing stores and only a hand full of low-key bars.

There is however, a Piggly Wiggly with bacon sold in 10 pound packages, fried pork rinds, pork neck bones, a fishing rod display and collard greens by the cart full. There are racks of dollar toys I remember seeing as a girl. I bought a Port St. Joe Piggly Wiggly coffee mug to bring home as a souvenir, along with my large bag of shells, my 5 prize specimens and the nicest piece of driftwood I have collected to date!

One day  I will return.

“A Bliss”

A Bliss

11/11/11

There is laughter now

In this modest home.

Simple pleasures abound

As they always have

Yet now they are cherished.

There is a hope for the future.

A confidence.

When before the future did not exist

In my mind

There was today and yesterday

Nothing more.

A paralysis. A void.

No concept of tomorrow.

I dared not venture there.

The days I awake with joy

Are multiplied

In this modest home

With no one beside me.

There is contentment

An acceptance.

There is peace

And love.

A longing I did not know I had

Has materialized before me.

My home is now a haven.

Beyond all reasoning of the mind

I have been lifted

Far above earthly pleasures

To an eternal bliss.

Now to sustain.

copyright 2011 Margaret Elizabeth Biggs

Tuesday Morning in the Fall

Tuesday Morning, Nov. 8, 2011

It is cool out, about 65 degrees. I can hear the wind in the trees, the bird’s chirping, the cars rushing by on 98.

My father would be able to tell me the names of the bird’s whose sweet sound I focus on.

The sound of the traffic is minimal in my mind.

It is fall here in the Deep South.

Though the change of seasons is much less apparent here, it is there just the same.

There is less humidity in the air and so the sky is much clearer.

When the midday sun hits the bay, it “sparkles like diamonds,” as my father would say.

The seaweed and algae are gone and so the Gulf is crystal clear too.

The Bull Rays migrate this time of year and are a joy to see “flying” through the green waters in schools.

The Sea Oats have scattered their seeds and are now just tall stems swaying

in the grass in the wind.

The beaches are less crowded and the wildflowers are in bloom.

Bright yellow and deep red dot the end of the Island and in the woods there

are accents of a pale purple too.

My mother would know all the names of the wildflowers.

I will learn them with time.