Jackson, MS

Today we traveled a path first carved by Native Americans, then hunters and traders, followed by Jackson's army and finally people like us! From a mere path through the woods, the Natchez Trace evolved into the scenic road from Natchez, MS all the way to Tennessee. We got off in Jackson, MS and bid farewell to a lovely morning on the road. (Thanks for the tip, Forest!)

Jackson has some

lovely churches (rivaling Dubuque, IA) but the city goes to sleep at 5pm -- at least near our historic hotel near the capitol. We went for a drive in search of healthy fare for dinner and had to venture miles away to a lively neighborhood to find something open. (We're feeling t h i c k from all the heavy food.)

Fortunately, a Piggly Wiggly came into view and a new adventure was born. What fun to explore someone else's grocery store! Two aisles had our full attention: an entire row of various types of bleach (why?) and an entire row of canned vegetables -- in gallon-sized cans!

Our hotel picnic consisted of: salami, strawberries, grapes, apples, yogurt, rolls and Jell-O with fruit in it. (They thought the Jell-O would be a treat, but none of them would actually eat it!) Then Peanut bit into a strawberry and goes, "This tastes weird; are these organic?" I said, "Eat it and be grateful we have anything fresh at all. We could be eating out of cans!"

A Night in Southern Comfort

We found the Guest House easily, but the front door was locked and all the lights were off. A tiny note left a phone number should we need assistance. Well, yes, we needed assistance. I called the number and a man from a sister property across the street ran right over to check us in. Strange, right?

As it turns out, we were the ONLY guests registered for tonight! My little traveling family had the entire place to ourselves, without even a receptionist on duty! Do things like this happen to anyone else?

We were too tired for any exploring so we climbed right into our 4-poster beds, staring up at the 17 foot ceilings, admiring the velvet drapes over windows which overlooked a sweet little courtyard. Seriously.

This morning, I said to Peanut, "C'mon, let's pretend we live here!" So we jumped out of bed and started to waltz up and down the hallways, pretending to hide our ankles, checking out rooms and taking photos wherever we felt fancy.

Little Man and Doodle joined us soon enough (couldn't resist playing hide and seek) and all was well until Peanut ran downstairs and then right back up to say, "Mom, there's a man downstairs!" I slowed down gracefully (thankful I'd gotten dressed before this ridiculous escapade) and said to the young gentleman, "Good morning. Are you an employee?" He answered, "Yes m'am, your breakfast is waiting: french toast, eggs, pan sausage, homefries, fruit..." Like a giddy teenager, I ran back upstairs to tell Grandma that we were being served in the breakfast room!

When Grandma got downstairs, he asked, "Did you do any reading in the bathtub last night?" and when he saw Doodle he said, "Hello, are you the Pooper?" This young man had read our entire blog! (See Grandma's Been Naughty and the White Sands posts.)

Needless to say, each of us was quite delighted with our stay and we feel like we lived a Southern dream at least for one night right here in Natchez, Mi-crooked letter crooked letter-i-crooked letter-i-humpback humpback-i.

Mississippi - State #41

We left New Orleans several hours later than planned and missed our Plantation Tour across the river, so we decided to spend the night in Natchez, MS. I asked the girl at the Visitor's Center if there were any Bed & Breakfasts that allowed children, and sure enough, she found us one downtown. That done, we hustled off to catch the day's final tour of

Longwood House -- a supposedly more interesting Antebellum Home tour for the kids.

This was the best introduction to the Southern way of life, and I'm so grateful to the woman who directed us here. The 97-acre estate has sprawling lawns with mature oak and cypress trees where the kids burned off some energy, and the enormous octagonal house is something words cannot adequately describe.

Julia Nutt and her husband had the enormous home built (30,000 square feet) but he died after only the basement was finished. We got to tour the unfinished upstairs which was truly remarkable.

The grandiose ceilings and French doors opening onto the balconies brought an incredible breeze through the house and the architectural plans on display so we could clearly envision what "should have been". Where the kids are standing, for example, would have been a grand staircase leading to the patio within with circle of trees. Think of some Southern Belle's first kiss.

Julia continued to live in the basement of her mansion, which was only 10,000 square feet, with high ceilings and full windows by our standards, raising 8 children alone. I asked if others in High Society looked down on her for living in a basement and the guide said she was actually considered lucky to have a house at all. When husbands were killed in the Civil War, many wives were ironically forced to earn money through their labors: doing laundry for the soldiers or baking and selling pies to the infantry.

Little Man thought it was such a clever design to only have 4 chimneys when there were 26 fireplaces in the house but he was truly delighted when he saw Julia's "evening commode." This consisted of a lovely upholstered chair that when the bottom cushion was lifted, a hole was presented directly over a nice-sized porcelain bowl! He wanted to know if they ever emptied that bowl?!

Peanut was far more interested in why there were only paintings of white people on the walls. (This terminology of "white and black" is brand spankin' new with our entry into the Deep South.) "Did the white people not like them?" she asked. The guide eventually directed us to the dining room and to Frederick, one of only two slave paintings in all of Mississippi! Julia Nutt insisted he be painted along with the rest of the family, and legend has it that after Mr. Nutt died, he stuck around and helped her raise the kids, too. We were listening to the guide talk about Frederick when Peanut whispered to me, "How come all the white people look so pretty and happy and the black guy looks so tired and sad?"

Mississippi License Plate