stmarysmagazine.com Blog

Close your eyes. Imagine a small southern town nestled in a sweet curve of coastline. Hear the breezes sigh through majestic live oaks and stately palms. Feel the kiss of sun upon your face and the caresses of velvet sea air. Now place
yourself in a well-worn rocking chair on a Victorian porch—time, like a priceless treasure in your hands—with peace in your soul, and gratitude in your heart. Can you see it? Do you feel it? If so…welcome to St Marys.
William Wordsworth once penned the words, “The world is too much with us late and soon…” In today’s frenetic
environment, the sense of inner quiet that we all seek can prove elusive. One has only to consider the vast plethora of
relaxation techniques, spa retreats, chemical alchemies and quick-fix panaceas available to comprehend the power of the human quest for serenity.
Many dream of a life of quiet, reflective moments and the luxury of a simpler existence—a way of being that returns us to a truer sense of our Self upon the universal stage. To that end, thousands travel southward in search of the healing balm of sun and sea and the relaxed pace for which the Low Country is renowned.
More than simply a lovely nostalgic scene, the vision of a porch and rocking chair symbolizes an attitude and an approach to daily life. Imagine a summit of the world’s leaders in a town such as St. Marys…
From far and near they gather: the powerful, the admired, the warmongers and the peacemakers. A long porch snoozes in the late-day sun, complete with a line of well-worn rocking chairs and tall, cold glasses of sweet tea. People pass by and acknowledge the porch-sitters with a friendly wave and nod. The gentle symphony of community, birdsong, whisper-soft breezes and the rhythm of the rocking chairs melts even the most rigid spine and eases the worried heart. The summit would be one of patient thought, gracious speech and charming consideration. It would be an acknowledgement of the unity of the human dream of serenity––no matter the background, agenda or society.
It is said that life is slow in small, southern towns. That is something that we take great pride in. For no one is too busy to acknowledge a passerby, ignore the heady scent of jasmine, be deaf to the susurration of the wind through the Spanish moss, numb to the indefinable inner knowledge of the turning of the tides, oblivious to the arc of an osprey’s magical flight, or careless of the gift of friendship.
A porch and a rocking chair—the gentle ebb and flow of time, the “living of the moment.” Wisdom is found here, as is a certain centering of self. Atticus Finch watches over his community into the night from the rocking chair beneath the reading light. Children explore their world beneath the gaze of parents upon the porch. Neighbors wrap up the day with a smile from house to house as they sit and feel their cares drift away on the evening tide. Yes, a porch is a state of mind, and a rocking chair is the best possible place from which to view the world.
We invite you to experience moments that will redefine your priorities and renew your delight in simply “being.” Rest for a spell on the porch. Rock away your worries. And discover the sweet magic of St. Marys.
Once again, we thank Alex Kearns for sharing her sentiments about our lovely town. Living in the moment is a gift made easier by St. Marys’ prolific offering of Victorian porches and white-washed rocking chairs.

Hundreds of years ago, the Timucuan, Guale and Creek Indians saw it in the bounty of her fish and game and fertile lands. In the 1500s, French explorers saw it as a “country full of havens, rivers, and islands of such fruitfulness as cannot with tongue be expressed.” And in 1787, the British Colonial Council decided St. Marys would make a most desirable site for a city.

There’s something about St. Marys. And today, visitors are enchanted by her storybook setting on the St. Marys River. Her white picket fences and beckoning front porches. Her magnolias and wisteria. Her captivating streetscapes framed by canopies of majestic oaks draped in Spanish moss. Fragrant salt air and alluring waters. Quaint shops and charming Victorian inns. There is an unmistakable softening of life’s edges in St. Marys—an undeniable allure of history, romance and gentler people. Yet, an ever-present invitation to adventure as well.

There is something about St. Marys. Some say she’s the “jewel in the crown” of the Colonial Coast. Some speak of the intrigue of pirate lore and natural treasures that abound in and around her riverfront setting. Whether it’s beauty, tranquility, romance, excitement or mystery that calls one to St. Marys, it is a siren song few resist once they’ve made the lady’s most gracious acquaintance.

Warm smiles and kind words are second nature to St. Marys’ residents and business owners. There is the true essence of the Old South in St. Marys, and visitors are enchanted by the wry humor and embracing gestures that make them feel so welcome. Subtle Southern idiosyncrasies emerge from the unassuming nature of the people. “Shut,” says a sign in a downtown bakery when they’ve closed for the day. “Dead people’s stuff for sale,” announces one unpretentious antique dealer’s wares. It has been called the “best of a small town,” and the “best of the south,” by people whose hearts have been won over by this little coastal village. Money Magazine once named it, “Best Small Boomtown in America.” The American Dream Town Advisory Board voted it “America Dream Town 2004 for Georgia.” No matter one’s reason for visiting St. Marys—history, romance, adventure, culture, nature, or just to get rewarded with a heaping helping of Southern hospitality, one thing’s for certain. Visitors may leave St. Marys, but St. Marys will never leave them. Long into the future she’ll remain in their hearts and in their minds, and it will only take the swift scent of a lone gardenia, the golden glow of a waterfront sunset, or the gentle smile of a kind stranger to bring it all back. There is just something about St. Marys.

“I have found peace here,” is the
oft-quoted reply when newcomers are asked why they moved to St. Marys. There is an indefinable “softening of the edges” that seems to permeate life in St. Marys. To live in St. Marys is to come face to face with serenity on so many levels. St. Marys’ enviable location just across the river from Florida puts it in an aquatic embrace surrounded by marshes, rivers, creeks, the Intracoastal Waterway; and just across Cumberland Island, the waters of the great Atlantic. Native Americans believed that for every day you spend around water, a day is added to your life. Could it be the water that is the source of St. Marys’ serenity?
Put yourself in this picture: The day is almost over. You take a lazy stroll down to the waterfront park and settle into an old-fashioned wooden swing hung beneath a rose-covered arbor. Before you, a setting sun casts a million points of gold onto the surface of a tranquil river. Dolphins dance in the distance. Seagulls soar and laugh in flight, their gracefulness mesmerizing, leaving you yearning for wings of your own. Is it the sunsets that hold the secret to St. Marys’ serenity?
On an early morning walk through St. Marys’ Downtown Historic District, you catch the tranquilizing scent of gardenia and marvel at the fragile blossoms peeking through a pristine white picket fence. Stately magnolias and moss-covered live oaks canopy St. Marys’ fertile yards, and parks and streetscapes. In the distance you hear the baritone echo of the Cumberland Queen as she sets sail for another day of adventure on Cumberland Island. You stop for a moment, close your eyes, and listen to the lulling birdsongs—more distinct calls than you’ve ever experienced at one time. You lean across another picket fence and trace the Braille marker of a Victorian home, replete with splendor that so defines the Southern landscape. Is it this—the feast of the senses—that gives us the spellbinding sense of serenity?
Or could it be the people? You’ve noticed the warmth in the voices of the merchants who happily open their stores to you—browsing perfectly acceptable. You’re stricken by the respect and politeness of the waiter at the little café on the corner, whose
singular mission in life seems to be to make you happy. You immerse yourself in the friendly greetings and kindness of strangers you encounter on the streets, rich with the wisdom of the area and passionate in their eagerness to share. There is quietude about the town that bespeaks calm. Tranquility. Serenity.
You have found peace here in this
little town of St. Marys, Georgia. Perhaps for a day. Perhaps for a lifetime.

Southern Georgia. Even the words fall sweetly on the tongue like the juice of a sun-ripened peach or a seductively rich Pinot Noir. This is the land that captured the hearts of writers such as Sidney Lanier, Flannery O’Connor, Alice Walker––the list is as long as the evening shadows. It is a world of deep mystery, open hearts and inspirational views. It is an enigma, a benison and a way of being.
The citizens of Historic St. Marys, Southern Georgia’s most luminous star, walk through their lives bathed in the light that is particular to this land of marsh, river and sea. This celestial presence, both corporeal and visceral, beckons the photographer, writer, artist and dreamer within us all.
The shifting hues of St. Marys form a captivating palette of color and mood. On a rare, rain-soft day there’s no better beginning than a long, lingering
waterfront breakfast at The Riverside Café. The aroma of coffee twines about the scent of the sea while we gaze at the shimmering brushed-pewter of sky and river. The Cumberland Queen departs and her farewell salute echoes in the misty air.
After breakfast, we walk to the long dock that stretches out into the marsh and pause to look in wonder still. One never ceases to be entranced by this endless vista, for the marsh that sweeps toward the Florida coast shifts and
alters hourly as the changing light paints upon its canvas. This rare ecosystem is the jewel in the crown of the Low Country—alive with growth, birth, change, renewal and infinite beauty.
Another morning, drenched in the dew-soaked light of a new day, magnolia trees reflect the sun from their rich foliage while the palms capture the rays and toss them back like diamonds into the air. Bougainvilla and hibiscus
blossoms drink in the moisture as the earth prepares itself for the noon heat. Even then, in the mid-day intensity of light and warmth, there is that which delights the eye within the shadows of massive live oaks draped in Spanish moss. It is a unique interplay of color and depth, known only in this land of entrancing contradictions.
Then there is the “Magic Hour,”
the legendary time of golden light and violet hue that whispers to the artist in every soul. All pause to savor this exquisite delight of warm evening breezes, cocktails on the front porch, children’s voices, neighbors waving
as they stroll by. This is St. Marys
at her most captivating—a small
town cradled within “the vast sweet visage of space” (Sidney Lanier).
We invite you to experience a place and a way of being that will captivate and enthrall. But be warned, though you may leave St Marys, you will do so altered in some profound way for there is no leaving this “Brigadoon” without carrying her within your heart forever.

Special thanks to Alex Kearns for
these sentiments that so beautifully
capture another dimension of the magic of St. Marys.