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BY PAT SUMMERS
NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM
A loyal New Jerseyan by birth, I love this state and all that, although it's much harder to love in winter: mean, penetrating cold and everywhere you look, just gray, black or brown and sometimes briefly white. New Jersey's especially dreary between new year's and Valentine's, before it's reasonable even to dream of spring.
And please: don't mention winter sports, as in (mean, penetrating cold) outdoors. Or the so-called Super Bowl — to me, good only for possible new chili or dip recipes.
Those six weeks of winter offer only. . . six weeks of possible get-away time.
Think St. Thomas, the American Virgin Island that for me and my husband has everything needed each year at this time: warmth, sunshine and color, and uncommon flora and fauna worth traveling for — from multicolored hibiscus and other tropical flowers to ever-fascinating iguanas.Don't forget the cooling, slushy variations on the theme of pina colada — Bushwhackers, Pain Killers and BBCs — before the next theme's introduced: frozen daiquiris a la banana, mango, you name it.
Why this Caribbean island, of all those possible? Its varied topography, with lush, green-covered "mountains" and valleys, making the most casual car ride into a scenic tour featuring hillside-hanging houses and spectacular ocean views. Its soft white-sand beaches, lined with palms and beach plum plants. Its mix of eclectic eating-out spots and its range of accommodations and activities, including no activity.
There's a sentimental reason too: we first visited St. Thomas early on, and everything clicked. So we've returned — with varying levels of disposable income and staying in different places over the years — almost annually ever since. (And yes, we've tried many of the rest, but this one's the best.)
Our week in "America's Paradise" this year began late last month with a direct flight from Philly to St. Thomas. We never tire of the transition: after boarding the plane in monochromatic Philadelphia, we de-planed about four hours 
later in 82 degrees, with vivid colors everywhere and gentle trade winds that seem never to stop.
Beach and water lovers, we like being as close to both as possible. For the last few stays, that would be Morning Star Marriott Beach Resort, a small and low-key part of the Frenchman's Reef complex situated high over the wide harbor entrance leading to Charlotte Amalie, the island's capital.
Comprised of two- and three-story buildings along the beach, Morning Star is lushly landscaped and well appointed. This year, our beach-view unit was on the first floor, so the few wooden steps to the beach were the only ones we encountered. (Last year, though, we reveled in our third floor place because we could see for miles, and that easily included watching cruise ships make their way toward the harbor.) We could hear the Caribbean all night, and see it from our bed.
For getting around St. Thomas, rental vehicles are available, but taxis are even more plentiful and commonly used by visitors. Vans or open-air jitneys, they're usually the property of island men and women with lilting accents, who are usually welcoming — besides being used to driving on the left — though thankfully the steering wheel remains in the "usual" place.
We skip all-inclusive plans, preferring to get out and around the island for both beaching and eating, as well as catching steel pan music where we can. St. Thomas boasts Magen's Bay, a heart-shaped beach on the north side — the Atlantic Ocean, but you'd never know it. Protected from development, this place will probably be described, accurately, as "one of the 10 most beautiful beaches in the world" forever. And its lunch spot serves up the best bubbly, greasy "joint pizza" imaginable.
Each year we take the ferry into town for a couple hours in the shopping area along Main Street, facing the gorgeous harbor. There, in good economic times, the "ship people," on liberty from the humungous cruise ships in port that day, clog the streets in their search for jewelry and electronic bargains.
Taxi drivers move slowly along, calling out, "Going back to the ship?" (Which reminds me that I still haven't gotten around to commissioning a tee shirt that anticipates common questions: NO SHIP! NO ISLAND TOUR!)
The "ferry" mentioned could be either of two small, distinctive boats that run on the half-hour from Frenchman's Reef across
the harbor to town, or back. It carries passengers right through the most beautiful aqua water never adequately captured by camera.
From the resort's dock to town is about 15 minutes on either the Morning Star (green and white awning) or the Evening Star (red and white). Plowing merrily past extravagant yachts and sailboats along the way, these doughty little crafts allow passengers fish-eye views of homes built in among the coastal rocks and up the hills.
No, we don't scuba or snorkel; we don't go deep-sea fishing or kayak in an island preserve. We don't jog, though we take sneakers for walks; and it's not a bicycle kind of place. Unapologetically, we read and read, having packed an abundance of books and periodicals for beach, bed and airports, as well as the flights themselves.
It's heaven. More specifically, it's "America's paradise." And yet there's life after heaven: we always come home relaxed and ready for the count-down to spring and summer right here in New Jersey.
