For years, when my husband and I were both working, we took every opportunity to travel. It was not unusual for us to awake some Saturday morning, pack the car on the spur of the moment, select a direction to travel and drive as far as we could just to see what we could. We’d pick a different route for a return trip on Sunday.
Although we spent most vacation time in Texas with family, we’d try to cram as much sight seeing and visiting as we could going and coming. A couple of times, we even drove the 900-mile distance straight through, stopping only when we had to. Often, we returned feeling as if we needed a vacation to recoup from our vacation.
Now retired, we travel at a more leisurely pace, promising each other to stop every two hours. These scheduled stops are refreshing and sometimes, we even encounter serendipitous experiences in the most unexpected places.
Such was the case at the Atchafalaya Basin Welcome Center along that long expanse of Interstate 10 across the Louisiana swamp area. The well manicured grounds bloomed with an array of spring flowers and the scent of magnolia hung heavy in the air.
On this Tuesday, of all days, we happened upon a mini-festival at this site. First of all, the center hosts a swamp museum, complete with short video, which we took time to watch. We learned that this swamp not only looms large to the traveler, it is the largest river swamp in the world.
On the front porch of the center, the Backdoor Band played Cajun music. The musicians included two guitarists, an accordionist, a fiddler, a drummer and a member who played one of those newfangled washboards hanging from his shoulders. As they played, one couple began to dance on the porch. At first, we didn’t know if they were part of the show or if it were a spontaneous act on their part. It was spontaneous. As they departed, they turned back to the band and shouted, “You made our day!”
I think many of the visitors felt the same way. I know I did as I sat in a high back rocker on that Southern style wraparound porch and literally rocked to the music, clapping appreciatively at the end of each song.
Inside, we were treated to an array of goodies. The Jeff Davis Parish Tour Commission served up portions of pork rice jambalaya and homemade cookies, along with many brochures about the unique places to visit in the area. And this center, as many do, had fresh pots of Community Coffee brewing. I was glad that it was good hot coffee and not strong Louisiana chicory so often served in that state.
When we reluctantly returned to our vehicle to continue our journey, we realized that we had stretched a usual ten-minute stop into an hour plus stay. What luxury to enjoy the moment without having to watch the clock and march to the beat of a hurried schedule.
On the trip homeward from Texas, we didn’t choose to stop again at this welcome center. But, as we drove past it, we talked about our experiences there the week before and realized that the scent of magnolia still hung heavy in the air.
Campgrounds also lend themselves to such unexpected experiences. One cloudy afternoon in a Louisiana campground on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, my husband and I sat on a boardwalk bench to watch the waters of the Tchefuncte River which flow into that big lake north of New Orleans and where fishermen come to catch catfish. Once again, the scent of magnolia surrounded us.
As we sat and talked, a young man walking the boardwalk asked if there were alligators in the river. We hadn’t seen one, but given the fact it was Louisiana, we said that there probably were. He shuddered. he had seen the alligator attacks in Florida on TV last year. We soon learned that he had just moved to the area from South Dakota and had been at a nearby town to sign the papers on a house he had bought for his family. The rest of the afternoon he was driving around to explore the area and see the sights. His family wouldn’t move until after school was out.
Of course, we asked what led him to relocate in the South. Kevin Kaesviharn explained that as a free agent, he had signed as a safety for the New Orleans Saints, after having played several years for the Cincinnati Bengals. (In fact, when we “Googled” him, we discovered he had quite an impressive list of statistics with the Bengals, including leading the team in interceptions.)
When we told him we were from Georgia, he told us he had played football with a Georgia boy, David Pollock. We asked about the former UGA star’s injury. This former teammate said that David was well and anxious to return to play; however, no one knew if or when the doctors would release him to play again. We told Kevin that we would watch for him on TV this coming year.
On our return trip as we approached Tallahassee, Florida, on I-10, a most appropriate billboard erected by that city’s tourism commission caught my eye. There in big, bold letters were those five little words: “Stop and smell the magnolias.” What affirmation! When we really slow down to a stop, the scent of magnolia is even sweeter than that of roses.
2007
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