Wanderlust, Wonder, and Bayou Teche

Last week I participated in a Facebook Launch Party for a book called Uprooting Ernie. One of the things “Ernie” and my books have in common is that they both take place in small towns and so one of the questions I asked the attendees is what some of their favorite small towns were. There were so many great answers that spanned the country, from Washington to Maine, that it gave me a severe case of wanderlust.

I have to hold tight for another week and a half before we’re off on some summer travels but the party made me want to revisit some of my favorite areas, of which there are many. For no other reason than to add some order to my thoughts, I decided to write today about Bayou Teche in Louisiana (since I wrote about the Aegean last week, I figured I could start working my way through the alphabet of places I love).

Now, anyone who knows me knows I have a thing for swamps, or really, I suppose I should say I have a thing for the landscape of the southern waterways because the bayous have just about the same effect on me as the swamps. (And if you’re curious about the difference between a bayou and a swamp, generally speaking, a bayou will have some water flow through it whereas a swamp will not.) In short order, Bayou Teche was stunning. Of course I didn’t see all of it, but below are some pictures I took from my boat ride outside Breaux Bridges as well as some from Avery Island which sits a bit further down the bayou and is home to the Tabasco factory.

I think a lot happens in these quiet groves

Cool, not cool. So it *is* kind of interesting to see snakes just hanging out on trees. But, well, snakes.... — Cool, not cool. So it *is* kind of interesting to see snakes just hanging out on trees. But, well, snakes….

Avery Island. I kind of want to drape my room in Spanish Moss. Or at least my driveway.

One of the members of the family who started the Tabasco dynasty was very involved in working to preserve egrets – their numbers had been severely depleted by the use of feathers in hats way back in the day and so he built these nesting platforms and offered a protected place for them to thrive again.

Much like the orchid in Croatia, the bayou was a place that made me wonder. But unlike the orchid, that made me ask why it was sitting there in the window, the bayou made me think about just what this waterway has seen in its thousands of years of existence…Native Americans, the arrival of the French, the Civil War, the birth (and sort of death) of the sugar empires, the evolution and growth of the creole culture, and now, hopefully, preservation of some of the most beautiful and unique land/waterscapes in the US. The possibilities are nearly endless.

I love visiting the south, I really do, and I think visiting that part of our country is something that more people need to do if they have the chance. There is a lot of history, both good and bad, that is deeply and irrevocably a part of those states, and thus, part of our history regardless of where we live. Aside from that, it is also just an area of the country that effortlessly takes my breath away with its natural beauty and grace—from the silent gator making its way through water, to the Spanish Moss swaying in the breeze, to the stately oaks that have seen more of life than you or I, there is a lot about the south, and about the mystique of the Bayou Teche, that can make you wonder.