A Place Rooted in Love and Memory
Steeped in history along saltwater bluffs.
Suspended in time somewhere between The Prince of Tides, Gone with the Wind, and Porgy and Bess, lies a mass of islands so steeped in history and soulful landscapes that it stirs artists to greatness and writers to weep.
If you haven’t been to Beaufort, South Carolina, bless your heart. It’s a grand old Southern town, founded over three centuries ago. Beaufort has maintained her charms of yesteryear with history and warmth as piquant as her beloved Frogmore Stew. She so captivated me on my first visit that it has led to a lifetime of trips down her sea-scented streets with secret gardens, pristine 18th-century mansions with intricate iron gates, and gas-lit alleyways. The clip-clop sound of horses with their carriages on the roads became a lifetime memory of a place deeply rooted in history along saltwater bluffs.
Here ghosts and haints are as common as tired shrimp boats, and moss-covered trees. On these islands, hidden gardens intoxicate with the fragrance of wisteria adorning live oaks. Time passes slowly as we await the arrival of springtime in the South.
World-class resorts have slipped in, adopting the laid-back tempo of the sea islands. Our great blue herons spread their wings and soar over windswept oceanfront golf links while descendants of slaves still weave their sweetgrass baskets along the side of the road.
West African slaves who once toiled in the rice fields helped shape the rich culture of the Lowcountry. Their cadent Gullah accent falls softly on the ears and their culture has inspired a way of life woven into the fabric of this land.
Hundreds of seductive islands hug the Atlantic coastline from Jacksonville to Georgia’s legendary Golden Isles, and up to Savannah and the Lowcountry, Charleston, and Georgetown.
Years ago the charm of the Lowcountry cast a spell that can never be broken. From our home on Lady’s Island, I would wake up to watch the dawn mist rise over the marshlands on the edge of the Beaufort River, touch crumbling tabby ruins in the wall of the courtyard dating back more than two centuries, and feel the textures of old stone surrounding the fireplace in the massive living room. The memory of oak logs from the woods nearby burning all day perfumed the air with their rustic scent giving warmth on the coldest of days.
Each winter we see pick-up trucks along the side of the roads overflowing with just-dug sweet potatoes and all types of greens; collards, turnips, and mustard. And best of all, our briny, sweet oysters create unparalleled excitement during these chilling days.
We wait for spring and roadside stands with rickety shelves overflowing with cascading herbs, lettuces, and baskets of sweet Vidalia onions.
What joy to have beautiful raw ingredients from our beloved islands, to cook fish fresh from the sea, and hunt for oysters along the shoreline.
What a beautiful article on Beaufort, one of the most charming, unspoiled towns in the South! My mouth waters thinking of all the available seafood, vegetables, and recipies that talented Pat Branning will create! Can't come soon enough that I will be a little farther South on St. Simons Island, my Pat Branning cookbooks in tow!