We are heading home.
First, we spent a relaxed week in Alabama, about 20 miles
away from the Gulf coast. The weather was mild and it only rained one day. But
boy did it rain!
Surely due to Murphy’s Law, it was the day we had arranged to
go to New Orleans. Even with all the balconies in the French Quarter, we got
good and soaked. Uneven paving stones on the sidewalk caused many an unwary
foot to find deep puddles.
And it was usually mine.
Mentally preparing ourselves for stepping back into the
extended winter of Ontario was a chore we put off as long as possible.
We reluctantly left Alabama, and convinced ourselves that we
absolutely had to go north via the Natchez Trace Parkway as we had never been
that way before. And what a shame it was, that one can only drive 50mph there
while the adjacent interstate is 70. As a result, it took us 3 days to do what
our other Canadian friends did in one.
We freely admitted that it was procrastination.
The Natchez Trace Trail is a footpath created when workmen
from Ohio were hired to float goods down the Ohio then Mississippi Rivers to
Louisiana. In the 1700s, steamboats had not yet been used to go back up against
the flow of the Mississippi, so the only way for these men to get back home was
to walk.
Enough men walked the old Indian route north from Natchez to
attract the attention of entrepreneurs, and more than 50 inns were built along
its 400 mile length. With all this traffic, the sandy soil of Mississippi
became compacted along the trail. Some parts are now 20’ deeper than the
surrounding terrain.
Being history lovers, we enjoyed stopping at points along
the parkway where the old trail was accessible and other places where original inns
had been reconstructed and pioneer cemeteries lay.
Spanish moss adorned trees
and dogwood bloomed around us as we tried to imagine walking 400 miles in a
couple of weeks.
It was a great way to pass a couple days, leisurely making
our way north as if no deadline loomed. Enjoying the sights and sounds of a
warm spring while we still could.
Soon enough, we hit the end of the Natchez Trace Parkway and
had to continue our way north on the Interstates.
It just seemed like a sin to
rush towards the colder weather.
In Tennessee we waited out a nasty thunderstorm, and then
dawdled as we prepared to leave. The bad
weather was heading east, just as we were and we didn’t want to catch it. And
then Kentucky was pretty with its paddocks and hills. So we parked early.
But in Ohio, the trees no longer had flowers, or even buds.
In New York State, it was glaringly obvious that Lake Erie was still frozen
over, and parking lots had leftover mountains of snow piles.
Blankets that had been taken off the bed were put back on.
The heater was put back in regular use.
Oh dear.
We're home.
W
