To Paula, With Love

There's more to oysters than eating.

It was the Fall of 2018, and we were getting ready to feature Paula Deen on the cover of our magazine. We arrived at her front gate with a florist, an interior designer, our photographer, Andrew Branning, and acclaimed writer Tom Poland.

We created a table for a Deen Family Thanksgiving, complete with oyster shell decor, magnolia leaves, and hydrangeas. Credit for creative design goes to Beth and Ashley Blalock, with florals by Geist Ussery.

With genuine hospitality, Paula gathered us together on the porch for biscuits, iced tea, and plenty of laughter. Aunt Peggy was there, the pups, and a few friends as we photographed her home on the river, the grounds, and of course, the chicken coop.

We captured a side of Paul most folks may not know about - Paula, the Artist.

Andrew admits he was more than a little nervous when the time arrived to take Paula’s photograph.

It wasn’t long before Michael arrived with the grandchildren, and her son Bobby and his wife. Then her assistant, Eddie, arrived, and the house was bustling with activity.

“Is there a quiet place where we can sit down and do the interview?” I asked. Without hesitation Paula said, “we’ll go back to my bathroom where things are quiet.” I wasn’t sure what to expect.

That may have been the prettiest bathroom I've ever seen. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and dressing tables were adorned with dainty twinkling lights, powders, and perfumes. We sat on sofas facing each other in front of a marble fireplace. I expected to see Rhett Butler walk in at any moment.

Tom proceeded with his interview. His story was published in the 2018 Fall edition of our magazine. The following is my much shorter version of the story.

Autumn drapes Wilmington Island in a softer light. The spartina grass shifts from green to a honeyed gold, and the salty breeze carries the faint cry of gulls overhead. It’s a time when most folks pour another cup of coffee and admire the view from their porch. But not Paula Deen.

If you look toward the oyster beds, you might spot her—boots sinking into pluff mud, hair catching the sunlight, and a bucket swinging at her side. She’s not out there for pearls or even supper. No, Paula’s after oyster shells. To anyone else, they’re rough and gray, but to her, they’re the makings of art.

“I just love sculpting, honey,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “It’s the cheapest therapy there is. You forget everything except the next shell you’ll put on. And believe me, I’ve got plenty of shells.”

It’s not unusual for neighbors to roll down their car windows and holler encouragement when they pass. Paula hollers right back—though now and then, she admits, she’s had to call for help when she’s sunk a little deeper into the pluff than planned. “Lawd, if butter floats, I’d be fine—but pluff mud doesn’t care who you are.”

When she’s not shell-scouting, Paula sometimes picks up a paintbrush. She insists she’s no artist. “I’d rather be in the kitchen than in front of an easel any day. My friend Donna Foltz paints beautifully, and she wouldn’t leave me alone till she taught me a little. Bless her heart, she tried—but that paintbrush just doesn’t listen to me like a skillet does.”

Still, every so often, the magic sneaks in. She painted a bream once for her son Jamie’s birthday. “That fish turned out so pretty, I almost fried it,” she chuckles.

And that’s Paula in a nutshell—or maybe in an oyster shell. She doesn’t take herself too seriously, she finds joy in the mess of pluff mud and paintbrush bristles, and she sees blessings in every day, even the muddy ones. “I’m in a good place,” she says, with that familiar smile. “God doesn’t miss blessing me a single day. And honey, I don’t miss noticing.”

Out in the golden marsh, gulls overhead and salt on the wind, Paula Deen reminds us all: sometimes the sweetest art comes with muddy boots, laughter, and just a little bit of butter.