Chocolate & A Commentary on The Coast < > The Delta Chocolate: It can be dark or light, creamy or solid, warm or cold. Regardless, it’s some shade of mocha, always melts on my tongue, and it matters not what temperature it might be, for it is always satisfyingly delicious! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometimes I’m completely stumped on how I want to write about a certain subject. Not that I’m proficient at any given topic, it’s just I usually have some idea of how I want to proceed with a given thought or idea. This is in no way a comprehensive approach to the stated topic, only a feigned attempt to introduce the topic I’ve only scraped the surface of exploration. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Driving back from the Coast, my excitement built as I headed up the State, contemplating all that encompasses my beloved Coastal life and my-now second home, The Delta. Yesterday morning I stood on the deck of the Mark and Dawn, a shrimp boat owned by second generation shrimpers. It was in its slip in the Ocean Springs Harbor. Her owners proud; on his phone, the elder owner showed me a video of his granddaughter helping her daddy cull through shrimp caught, while the younger owner stood at the edge of the stern selling beautiful shrimp from a large ice chest to a man with whom I went to high school. The buyer was unconcerned for any and all except those who he called on his cell phone, stating repeatedly to all with whom he spoke, “Yeah. I’m at the Mark and Dawn. They’ve got 20-25’s caught last night and they are $3.50 a pound. Ok. You want ten pounds? You need to come pick them up yourself.” As I stood on deck paying attention to the proud grandaddy and watching the young owner take care of his customer, it made me proud that I come from a long line of fishermen, shrimpers, oystermen, and knitters of nets. Many Beaugez’s have stood in, a somewhat, similar situation, selling the fruit of their labor in order to buy staples for the pantry, shoes for their children’s feet, and somehow put a roof over the head of their family. I left the harbor, only to head around Shearwater Drive and down East Beach toward my mother’s house. It was overcast, but there was still blue in the sky that reflected on the Bay. It was almost as though there was no horizon, no beginning or end to the sea or the sky. They seemed to be one, save for the two shrimp boats that appeared to be hanging in midair, but I knew were on the horizon. The scene leant itself for solace, calm, inviting me to linger with my camera, which I did. I couldn’t help myself as I got out to shoot with my Nikon more than a few times as I made my way down the Beach. The result: Sometimes I actually capture through my lens exactly what I saw with my eyes. Yesterday was one of those moments when I placed my SD card in my MacBook and the images came alive. I savored the moments again and again. Today as I went through Yazoo City realizing that I would soon round the last curve and drive across the overpass that leads straight to the flat land of the Delta, I almost had butterflies in my stomach thinking about the contrast of the two places. I’m always writing something in my head and I wrote about this topic all the way up the State. As I rounded the curve, the swamps on either side of the road I’ve stopped to shoot so many time were beautifully lit by the waning sun beginning to sink low on the horizon, not so different than Friday evening when I stood watching the sun fall across the Biloxi Bay and spill over the other side of the Biloxi-Ocean Springs bridge. I stopped and got out with my camera, attempting to capture the way the light filtered though the moss that so thickly laces the cypress. It was beautiful and always mysterious regardless of the light or the time of day. The azure sky served as a backdrop for the many shades of green in the cypress and the duckweed on the surface of the swamp. Woven among the greens were oranges, yellows, and reds, confirming that the cool air was indeed ushering in fall, my favorite time of year. Satisfied that I’d done all I could to capture the moment, I returned to my car. Highway 49N stretched before me, as though pulling me onward, compelling forward. I drove into the bright light, not unlike that I’d driven into this morning as I pulled around the harbor for the last time before leaving Ocean Springs. It seems the sun has a way of never changing, always coming out in the morning, and other consistencies that give me a sense of grounding. A few more miles up the road and I went over another body of water on a not-so-long bridge, but one that always makes me twitch just a bit because I cannot see what’s on the other side until I’m on my way down. On this day, I knew that as soon as I began my descent, when I looked to the right, I would only see cotton, thousands of acres of cotton, much in the same way as when I look out over the Bay. Oh my! What a sight to behold! All of that cotton, white, with a bit of green hanging on where it has yet to be defoliated before it can be picked. Yes. Fluffy white cotton as far as my eye could see. Of course, just as I could not help myself yesterday stopping all the way down the mile-long stretch of East Beach, I could not help myself stopping to get off the Hwy onto a turn row, in order to attempt capturing the vastness of the cotton, the vastness that is the Delta. Impossible. It was quite impossible to capture the Bay or to capture the thousands of acres of cotton, with through my lens or with words. Frustrating it is. So I’m back to my original thought which was, “How do I describe chocolate?” “How do I describe the Coast < > Delta?” All I can say right now is that there are more similarities than differences. Maybe I will have to write a book on subject. ~copyright~sarah_beaugez~Chocolate & A Commentary on the Coast < > Delta~
Posted on: Mon, 06 Oct 2014 04:31:28 +0000
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