Valentine's Tryst: Day 2 Saturday Feb. 16, 2008

We were awaken before daybreak by the sound of heavy rain, wind and thunder. More reason to snuggle in deeper and enjoy being safe and warm in our room.

By the time it was time to get up, the rain had stopped. A look out the window showed a wet and stormy world, yet it was actually a rather warmish day despite the gloomy damp.

We dressed and headed downstairs at 8:25, eager for breakfast and wondering if we would be dining alone.

(Part of the dining room. I really missed a lot of obvious pictures this trip....)

Two other couples were also there, ready to share our table; they had spent the night the garden rooms which were cottages separate from the house. One couple had come over from Birmingham Alabama, an eight hour drive. He was a dentist, his wife managed his office. They were about our age; she was dressed in a red tee shirt, with a ruffled cotton sweater and and wore a sweet heart-shaped pendant as a nod to the Valentine's weekend.

The other couple were younger than us; both had been in the Air Force. He was now retired, while she was still on active duty. They were an interesting pair: She arrived in short running shorts, bare footed, and wearing a baseball cap. She clutched two square tupperware containers, one with eggs and broccoli and the other a grainy gruel.

My first thought was food allegies. I was wrong.

The woman was in training for a figure competition. Her husband had surprise her with this "romantic" weekend, but she needed to continue her training regiment. That meant packing her training diet and having access to a gym for her daily work out.

I have to admit one of the things I love about a bed and breakfast is meeting interesting people over breakfast. In this case it was more odd than interesting; I found myself wishing that she had allowed the staff to "plate" her food, rather than just shoveling the eggs out of the plastic containers, and I wished she had troubled herself to at least put on some shoes.

She described competition: Wearing a small bikini (which is glued to her body just before she walks on stage), she stands before judges who evaluate her shapeliness. This is not a body building competition; no bulky muscles are desired, but rather a completely graceful, well proportioned and toned figure is desired.

The other woman and I were "graceful", but toned...well...not so much.

The girl chatted on about how difficult it is to feel the nervousness kick in just before going on stage, and how much that makes you want to pee, yet you can't pee because the glued on bathing suit makes this impractical.

I sure did enjoy each and every bite of my french toast and sausage as I listened to her talk.
At least I did until she reach that part of the conversation.

Hoo boy....

After breakfast was over B. and I headed out to drive the Cane River Road to see the seven local historical plantations.

We drove all the way to the farthest plantation before deciding which ones we wanted to visit.
The last one on the trail was the Magnolia Plantation. It was established in 1830, and except for "The Big House" (which is still inhabited by an elderly descendent of the family) all the buildings on the property are now owned by the National Park Service.

In the distance is one of the outbuildings, with the signature "Creole" style roof.

We began our tour in the plantation "store", a place where the sharecropping families could purchase their supplies on credit against their crops. The store was in use right up until the late 1960's.

A park ranger was in the store, and he walked us around the soggy grounds to see the other buildings: the blacksmith shop, the pidgeon house, hospital, and overseers house.

We were the only visitors while we were there.

The heavy rains of the early morning had flooded many areas of the grounds, and pecans and acorns and oak leaves had floated about like rafts in the puddles.

Inside the plantation's overseerer's cabin, our ranger guide Stephen explained the technology of the times used for creating the buildings. I was interested in the whitewash or lime wash paint colors that had been used inside. Martha Stewart would have approved of the soft pastels tones so like her own home's color pallets.

The plantation was unique in that it still had many slave cabins (built in the 1840's) in their original locations. At one time there had been seventy slave cabins.

The slave built cabins would house two families per cabin. After the slave were freed, they continued to live in the cabins, working as sharecroppers, selling their goods and buying from the plantation store; an economic arrangement that assured that the slaves would have little at the end of each season.

The other unique feature of the plantation was the cotton press that is in it's original location as well. The picked cotton was dumped into a deep box, and the cork screw was turned by mules, pressing the cotton down until it formed a 300 lb. bale. One the other side of the building was the "modern" steam driven cotton press.

A 300 lb. cotton bale. The thing was rock hard!

We spent a lot of time talking with Ranger Stephen. His family had been in Natchitoches since colonial times, and his family history was woven through out the area.

I loved that he told me that when he was growing up the cotton gins and cotton presses were still running, and that when the cotton is being ginned and pressed, the air smells strongly like popcorn.

It is details like that that make a tour come alive.

Stephen is a college student studying graphic design, but he is also passionate about preserving history.

The plantation had a store, a pidgeonaire (a sign of wealth, and squab for breakfast was very upscale...) blacksmith shop, doctor's cabin, overseer's cabin, and the main house which is still inhabited by a descendent in her late 80's. She used to invite people into her house for a tour, but currently she is in poor health

The woman has no children; perhaps she will one day deed her house to America's park services for all of America and the world to enjoy.

All along the river road there were mobil homes and modern homes and little shacks like this one.
I asked B. to stop so I could take a picture; just as I positioned my camera the man stepped out the front door and tossed the remains of his morning coffee onto the lawn. I waved at him and we drove on.

At one time the Cane River area grew tobacco and indigo, then cotton and molasses. In the last few decades corn has become the major crop.
All the fields along the road were bare as we drove along, but the pecan groves were still amazing. The trees were etched against the stormy sky for as far as the eye could see.

I would love to see the trees turning color in autumn.

Along the land bordering the groves there were wild narcissis in bloom.

Their perfume was heavenly.

There actually were a couple of varieties.

The weight of the rain had bent the flowers to face the soil. I couldn't resist giving them shake to free them to look up to the sky again.

Our next stop was at the Melrose Plantation. It was built in 1796, and is a National Historic Landmark.

From the plantation website:

The history of Melrose is a remarkable story that weaves together a series of fascinating people and events. The story begins with Marie Therese Coincoin, the matriarch of the Isle Brevelle Creole community who was born a slave in 1742. Coincoin, whose parents were part of the first generation of enslaved Africans brought to Louisiana, was a resourceful and intelligent woman who eventually attained freedom and prosperity for herself and her children. She bore fourteen children, ten of them fathered by a French merchant named Claude Thomas Pierre Metoyer, who eventually bought her freedom and gave her property on the Red River. Between 1794 and 1803, Coincoin and her sons received a number of land grants, amassed holdings of land and slaves, and the Metoyers became one of the wealthiest families of color in the nation.

The plantation actually was owned or inhabited by four extremely interesting and powerful women through the years. Coincoin just blew me away; she amassed so much wealth and power, even though she was a widow with five children by the time she was 25.

The pink magnolia trees/tulip trees had suffered from the heavy rains as well. The ground was covered with fragrant petals.

B. and I took a tour of this property lead by the woman ahead of us on the path.

Petals floated in the puddles about the grounds.



The Yucca plantation began in 1796 and was originally named Yucca Plantation. Behind the sign you can see the cypress frames which were then filled with red clay, spanish moss, deer hair and straw.

Out front of this building was a pot filled with cotton branches.

Moments later a white cat appeared seemingly from nowhere, like a cotton boll come to life in a feline form.

Our guide told the story of the first family who owned this plantation. She gave us details of the life of Coincoin, and her fourteen children. I was so amazed at Coincoin's tenacity in life, and especially at her determination to buy all her children out of slavery.

Our guide was a great great great great granddaughter of Coincoin. What a thrill to have the history related by a woman descendent of a famous woman. I could relate to her pride.

(The Cotton Cat had an admirable ability to pose, and a very friendly disposition as well, even in the midst of many strangers.)

The Melrose Plantation grounds were magical.

Redwing black birds, cardinals, chicadees and wrens filled the air with song, while woodpeckers provided a percussion rat-tat-tat in the background.

The pink petals fluttered through the air, and all I could think of was how a bride should be here for her pictures!

We went upstairs in another building, the African House, which was a mushroom shaped building built in 1800. It was amazing to climb the creaky stairs to see the primitive artwork of Clementine Hunter.

Hunter was born a field hand on the plantation in 1886, the child of former slaves. She later became a cook, then began to paint in her 50's, and created over 5,000 pieces of art before her death at age 101 in 1988.

(She liked chickens...a lot!)

When asked why she painted the chicken so big in this painting, she said she liked chickens.

She painted things that she liked big in her paintings, and things that she didn't like she made small.

It was an interesting form of subtle commentary.

I loved how she captured life on the plantation and in the local community, and gave her judgements with that small/large technique.

The final owners of Melrose, the Henry's, were quite taken by the arts. Men and women artists and writers were invited to stay and focus on their creative work. Guest included William Faulkner.

This cabin above was for the use of the women artists.

I was very impressed by the list of authors who wrote while staying on the property, and was delighted to see that Gwen Bristol, author of "Deep Summer" was one of the writers in residence.

I first read "Deep Summer" while I was in Jr. High, and later read the entire trilogy about southern planation life, beginning in the early 1700's and concluding in the late 1930's. Now I want to go back and re-read the books again.

The Henry's bought the property in 1898, and the grounds were a cultural hot bed throughout the years until they sold the property at auction in 1970's.

The property is fully furnished, with much of it reclaimed or donated by people who bought the furniture years ago at auction.

One of the massive oaks on the property, upholstered with Resurrection Fern, so named because it shrivels up and looks dead in heat, yet "resurrects" in green glory when rain falls again.

This odd chair has a tender history: One of the guests was crippled by polio, and could never get comfortable in a regular chair. Mrs. Henry had a chair built to accomodate her guest's particular needs.

I learned something here: The mattresses were stuffed with Spanish moss which would flatten during the night. In the morning the mattress was spanked into shape with a paddle, and then the rolling pin at the top of the head board would be taken down to roll the mattress smooth.

Who knew that design element had such a practical purpose!

I took graduate level weaving in college and at one time owned a floor loom. I've lost interest in the art from, and sold my loom years ago, but I am still interested in historic looms. Melrose's weaving house must have been a busy and warm place at one time, and apparently Mrs. Henry herself enjoyed weaving as well. Pieces of her woven work were in her room, folded up in the cupboard and spread out across the bed as coverlets. She was a talented loom controlled design artist.

The looms were warped and ready to go.

There were several other cats on the property. Bernie rested his leg for a bit on the porch and cat marched right up to be petted.

While he rested and catted, I walked the grounds and enjoyed the flowers in bloom.

The main house. I especially liked the little side house...it was the "boys" room; different as usually plantations housed their sons apart from the house itself, knowing how young men tend to be a bit wild and their comings and goings were best ignored. Apparently the Henry's had something like ten sons and one daughter, and to keep track of the boys, the boy's room was attached. The daughter's room was very sweet, and she shared it with her grandmother.

You can see how much water was still on the ground, and how big the tree is by comparing it to the bench beneath it.

By this time it was around two in the afternoon. We were hungry, and taking our Park Ranger guide Stephen's suggestion, we headed back to town for lunch.

Lunch on Front Street at the bar. I got soft shell crab, B. got crawfish etouffee and together we enjoyed the wacky college town/Mardi Gras/Louisiana decore.

Gotta love those throw beads!

After lunch we drove back down the River road, but it was too late to take in any more tours.

We were still full from lunch, and so we just drove through the side streets of Natchitoches, seeing where the locals live.

A soft serve frozen yogurt topped off the after lunch tour (the best strawberry frozen yogurt I have ever had...)

It was getting dark, so we decided to go back to the B&B, and to watch the movie "Steel Magnolias" on video in our room.

"Steel Magnolias" was filmed in Natchitoches. I had seen it years ago and enjoyed it, but now wanted to see it again.

Before popping the video in, we checked the Weather Channel. Apparently violent storms were heading our way, and Houston was being hit hard. The storm would arrive in Natchitoches around nine PM; we figured we would have plenty of time to watch the movie before we would need to take shelter.

If you haven't seen Steel Magnolias before, see it as soon as possible.

If you have seen it before, but not for awhile, take another look at it.

The costuming is wonderful, and the dialogue...oh the dialogue!

We laughed out loud, and then we both wiped tears from our eyes at the sad, sad ending.

Whew. There is a lot to that movie, and lots to discuss afterwards.

Questions like why M'Lynn is so alone, and unwilling to be comforted by her husband.

How Hollywood treated religion in the film.

And for me, with my constant jealousy of women who have kept an interesting and dedicated circle of friends in their lives, the question of what the women would have been like if they had to have left their hometown and start anew.

Bernie and talked and talked about the movie on the way home. I was surprised at the nuances within the film's marriages that he had observed. I learned a few things about how men think, and how men show both need and care.

It was fun to think about what it must have been like to live in small Natchitoches and suddenly have a major movie being filmed in your home town, with major movie stars walking by you on the street.

Oddly while we were walking around, Bernie spotted a man who he recognized from some television show. He couldn't remember his name though. We knew Louisiana is a very popular place to film these days, so we supposed it was someone who was just visiting the area.

After we finished watching the movie we kept the television tuned into a local station showing a dopplar map. Scrolling at the bottom of the screen was a warning that the storm was heading our way, with high winds and penny sized hail. We should stay tuned to the television, stay away from windows and be prepared to seek shelter.

I kept looking out the window. No wind, no rain. No nothing.

We finally went to bed to sleep around eleven. A few flashes of lightening could been seen, and a far away boom of thunder, but other than that...zilch.

We had no problem getting a great night sleep.