2/22/22 St Francisville, LA to home

 2/22/22

We stop by a McD's for a breakfast sandwich and coffee before heading towards St. Francisville, north of Baton Rouge.  Beth has read about some of their plantations and has heard nice things about the town.  

We take 55North (another scenic byway) and continue to see evidence of storm damage. Blue tarps on roofs and broken off trees.  Between hurricanes and tornadoes, this area has been hard hit in the past few years!  

We head for Rosedown Plantation which is supposedly one of the most beautifully restored plantations.  Unfortunately, we won't be able to verify this because when we pull up to the entry gates there is a sign saying they are closed for a private event.  Their website mentioned nothing about this, so I call to double check and let them know we're unhappy.  We are there at their supposed opening time and we see three other cars pull in and then leave while we are here.

The lady on the phone says they are filming something there all week, and, sorry, she has no control over their website!  Acck!  What good is it?!  So we miss 28 acres of the earliest 19th century historical gardens in the nation. There are a few other plantations in the area, so we drive to Audubon State Historical Site at Oakley Plantation instead.  Disappointed, but....

The Visitor's Center here has some interesting displays about the history of the area, where cotton was king and slavery was the accepted way of life for many years. 

 This slave house is about the only sign we saw, though I think there was a trail that may have given more detail. And our guide mentioned a single tombstone for one favorite slave - they don't know where the other folks are buried.

 Oakley House began as a land grant to Rufian Gray in 1795, as part of a Spanish colony. To get the grant the owners had to agree to convert to Catholicism, build housing and cultivate the land.  Rufian died, leaving the partially constructed house to his wife Lucy Alston.  By 1850 it had grown to 3200 acres and had 250 slaves.  Lucy remarried a Scotsman and had a daughter Eliza.

 One of the claims to fame is that John J Audubon lived and worked here as a tutor for four months in 1821.

He taught the daughter, Eliza, until noon and then was free to pursue his naturalist and painting loves.  He had an assistant, John Mason, who lived here with him and painted most of the backgrounds on his paintings, while Audubon did the birds.  He shot and killed most of the birds that he studied and painted, though he did keep a few as pets. He completed 32 paintings in this short time!

There are quite a few of his paintings throughout the house and Dee, our tour guide (just us) was very knowledgeable and fun, pointing out various interesting household items of the time, like this plate warmer which was placed in front of the hearth.  When the hosts wanted their company to leave, they would be served dinner on an unwarmed plate.

The big wooden paddle above the table is called a "Shoo Fly" and was operated during meals with a pull string to keep the flies off the food.  

These fire buckets were required by the Spanish on every floor and held either water or sand.

The house is Federal design, which was not typical for this area.  Notice the green shutters on the upper porch that allowed air flow.  This porch was used as a sleeping area in the hottest months. 

Beds were draped in mosquito netting.

Miss Lucy was a bit of an herbalist and treated folks in the area before the arrival of a doctor.

The grounds are quite lovely, with magnolia and oak trees, azaleas, camellias, crepe myrtles and other flowers. In another few weeks it should be even more gorgeous.

Below is the outbuilding that held the newer kitchen.  (The original was on the first floor of the home.)

After the civil war, the plantation dwindled until 1947 when the property became a State Park.  Very interesting tour, but I'm still ticked about Rosedown....

We head south from here, skimming the north side of Baton Rouge and getting back on I-10 to cross the 18.2 mile Atchafalaya Basin Bridge through swampland.  From there it was a pretty uneventful drive home, battling the ongoing and seeming perpetual construction and traffic on this road.  ( Beth hates this road, but Greg was driving and she just tried not to watch.)

We arrived home around 5:00.

  As Dorothy said, "There's No Place Like Home".