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12:11:00 AM CDT
Spontaneity: Lesson II
(Friday, 4/8/05. Just ask the Stones, You don't always get what you want...)
On to Vicksburg. Jackson is the dividing line that separates north Mississippi from the southern part of the state. Only a native southerner would be able to spot some of the non-physical differences. The land gets flatter the deeper into the delta you go. You can smell the richness of the dirt. If Onan had committed his sin of disobedience here, people would have sprung from the earth. The colors of the houses get brighter going from sedate whites and tans to bright yellows, mint greens and bold pinks with shutters in the shade I can only call voodoo blue. The lines of the architecture become less austere. You do see more stately, graceful classicism but at the same time, you can also see more whimsy, more decoration, and trim more often seen on the beautiful Victorian painted ladies than on the otherwise simple, poor homes it graces here. Even the staid brick homes join in with turrets that make little girls long for circular bedrooms on the top floor.
The change in architecture mirrors a change in the spirit. This is poor, poor country. For the pockets of old wealth you see, there is grinding poverty in abundance. This can mean you take your joy where you find it and make no bones about enjoying a good time when you have it, because the bad, hard times will be back soon enough. It's a blues thing if there ever was one.
Despite historic southern homes being everywhere, there was only one C. had picked that she really wanted to see, http://McRaven House,which is supposed to be one of the most haunted houses in the south. Yes, she was hoping for but not expecting a ghostly encounter. Unfortunately when we got there, we found out that there had been a fire in January from which they were still doing restorations. It had affected some of the outside, but none of the inside, but they still weren't open to visitors. It's tucked away in a neighborhood of old, but not historically old, rundown houses. From the rusted iron gates,we could see the house and gardens were gorgeous with azaleas taller than me and wisteria everywhere.
From there we tried unsuccessfully to finda coffee shop and art gallery called The Daily Grind. Then onto Natchez Under The Hill which is now nothing but modern casinos. We'd twisted and turned, and we'd gotten a little frustrated that we didn't see the things we'd flagged. We found out here that the digital camera had died, not just the batteries, but the camera itself. Yet another bit of frustration. We decided to keep heading south, following the river. It bends more dramatically around Vicksburg than the wide straight stretches I'm used to in Tennessee, and the view from the bluffs was incredible as we drove along. We stopped at a couple of antique stores and learned a valuable lesson. Apparently, business hours are only a suggestion there. I kind of like that attitude.
South of Vicksburg, the road seems to stretch on forever. I have to remind C. that getting lost can be part of the fun if you let it, and that we have the freedom to stop and see anything that strikes our fancy.
That was the attitude that let us stop at The Tomato House, a roadside vegetable stand that sold homegrown tomatos, boiled peanuts, homemade jams and syrups, and locally made, well done handcrafted candles and gifts with a good bit of whimsy. It was painted in bright bold reds and greens with a funky feel, a bit different from a lot of roadside stands. For the husband who loves to see what he can make from old, cast off things, we picked up a hanging candle holder made from recycled diet coke cans in the shape of a hot air balloon. It was a tough call between that and the airplane. He'll love it in his play-around-with-his-clutter space in the carport. I nearly picked up this beautiful handpainted tray, but I knew that other interesting finds would be ahead. They also serve lattes and chai tea, hot dogs and burgers in an air conditioned room with good jazz on a cd player. While we were there, we chatted with the lady who runs the place and found out they ship nationwide. She had the warmth, friendliness and charm that built the reputation for southern hospitality, and this little place was honestly a real highlight for the day.
From Vicksburg, we head on to Natchez, and all I can say of of south Mississippi highways is that they're a long, boring stretch of lonesomethat sent us heading to the Natchez Trace Parkway. It was like coming into another world. Gone were the sandy stretches with road equipment and huge pieces of metal and dead armadillos and opossums. Trees formed canopies for the roads, at times so thick as to be emerald tunnels, and wildflowers were everywhere. The river bridges dated from the 30s in an obviously WPA construction style that combined beauty with practicality. We stopped at the Mt. Locust Inn which dates back to the 1700s. Mt. Locust is neither a mountain nor really even a hill. It's on what my grandmother would have called a rising, the highest point in the landscape. It used to be a working inn and cotton plantation, consisting of four rooms and two porches. The kitchen, which was a separate building, no longer exists. It was logs on the side and back and white washed planks on the front. There was a large common room where guests would eat and sleep, and the other rooms were bedrooms for the fifteen family members. Behind the house and the grape arbor was the slave cemetary with the names of the people buried there listed on a sign. One grave had not been identified. The family had its cemetary to the side of the house.
Calmed, glad we got lost and took a side trip, we headed on to Natchez and a late, lingering lunch where we let the engine rest. Despite the recent repairs, the temperature light started coming back on when we got into stop and start traffic, and we still had more decisions to make.
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What beautiful descriptions. I am feeling like I am right there and enjoying the prospect of future trips to Louisiana.
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You two sure covered a lot of territory in a short time and you discribe it so well. Paula
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It sounds like you jumped into spontaneity with both feet and hit the ground running (sorry about the cliches; it's early.) Enjoying the travel guide immensely, since I'll probably never see that part of the country. The most important part, of course, is that you're having fun. - Malcolm
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Gosh, I feel like a backseat driver.......where we goin' next Sister? :-) Anne
4/11/05 8:07 AM
Becky