The Road To: St. Francisville, Part 1
Do you love spanish moss, live oaks and antebellum homes as much as I do? Just the thought of them makes me want to kick off my ridiculously tall platform shoes, take a seat on a veranda somewhere and enjoy a mint julep while I listen to the bullfrogs croak and the locusts sing. There’s a certain slowness about the south that in my youth I had little appreciation for…but as I’ve grown older have come to love dearly. It was this beauty and slowness that I wanted to share with my honey; so at the beginning of December we took a much needed mini-vacation. We packed up our bags, hopped in the car (at 2am no less…it was going to be a long drive!) and headed off to one of my absolute favorite places on the planet, St. Francisville, Louisiana.
What’s so amazing about St. Francisville? It’s hard to describe my attachment to this tiny town (it’s only 1.8 square miles…I told you it was tiny) that lies about 20 minutes outside Baton Rouge. St. Francisville is positively overflowing with stunning historic homes that have been wonderfully restored. During its pre-civil war heyday it was the area’s center of commerce and culture. It was home to numerous plantations (one of which temporarily housed John James Audubon) many of which survive to this day. I won’t bore you with further town history. (If you’re curious you can find more, though somewhat limited, information on Wikipedia. ) I think the clearest way I can communicate what makes St. Francisville so endearing to me is through photos. To merely speak of its history and beauty is an injustice. Yes, its history is not the happiest…I am not someone who waxes nostalgic for the bygone days of slavery (does anyone, for that matter?)…but I DO have a profound love of beauty, architecture and history, and St. Francisville puts them all together in a little box and ties it up with a pretty little bow.
The Oakley Plantation.
We started our day at The Oakley Plantation. Built in 1799 it later housed John James Audubon who was employed as a tutor to one Eliza Pierre. He completed 32 of his famous bird paintings here. It features 17 rooms and beautiful gardens which house all sorts of creatures that are given refuge by the park employees. Among the residents is one VERY large turkey who, as it turns out, loves to mug for the camera. I kid you not! He actually posed for the camera, walking right up to me, ruffling his feathers and hitting his light perfectly. He was, aside from my sweet kitty Mischa, one of the best models with which I’ve had the pleasure of working. Shame on me for not asking the park employees his name. I think I’ll call and inquire this week. Weird of me? Yeah, probably…but what can I do?
The kitchen was open and there was yummy stuff being baked in preparation for the “Dickens of a Christmas” celebration that night (and yes, we did attend…it was soooooooooooo fun! But more on that later) Fresh bread, gingerbread men and spiced apple cider were all being made at the massive hearth in the traditional fashion. There were also two very lovely and friendly women spinning yarn and weaving in the adjoining room. Being a knitter and spinner myself I stayed and chatted with them about yarn until I noticed my husband’s eyes becoming glassy and distant…fiber arts simply aren’t his cup of tea.
We returned later that evening for their Christmas celebration “Dickens of a Christmas.” It was positively lovely. There were people in period clothing dancing in the park auditorium. As we walked toward the grounds in the almost pitch darkness with the twinkling luminaries to help us stay on the gravel path, we could hear a small choir singing carols in front of the main house. They were, of course, singing by candlelight. We went inside and there was even more caroling, this time by a couple who played the guitar and hammered dulcimer. We ventured downstairs and out to the kitchen where there was even MORE food than in the afternoon. We helped ourselves to some gingerbread men and amazingly yummy cups of hot apple cider before we wandered over to the campfire to listen to a woman tell the hair-raising tale of Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol.”
After getting our spines tingled by our campfire story, we headed back to The Myrtles Plantation, enjoyed a beer in the courtyard, went to our room and lay our thoroughly exhausted bones down for the evening. We slept like logs.
To say I love Oakley Plantation is to put it mildly and this visit, sharing it with the man I love and getting to share such a lovely and unexpected evening…it was truly magical. I feel blessed.
Stay tuned for Part II:Rosedown Plantation next Monday.
Mint julep kisses and cypress knee chaos,
Alli Woods Frederick
ps- If you are interested in visiting or learning more about The Oakley Plantation or any of Louisiana’s other amazing state parks stop by the Louisiana State Parks website where you can find lists of historic sites, directions, hours of operation and the like.
