At times, when we are in a motel, we’ll turn on the TV if we are there early and have nothing else to do. It’s usually not on long, as I only annoy Caroline while I flip rapidly through the channels to verify that nothing is on. This mention of the TV is significant, I suppose, because anyone who knows us would have heard a hundred times that I quit watching TV back in 1985, but for a couple of brief relapses, it has remained that way. Was this wearing a bear suit ever a thing? Is this unique to newscasters in Mississippi? Would you not believe me if I told the sports guy was wearing feathers, and the weatherman was donning seal skin? TV is bad, nature is good.

Now, I return you to our regularly scheduled program featuring nature. This boardwalk goes nowhere except to the other side of this small glade of cypress trees growing in a swamp. Another fine example of the crap quality we were shooting photos with, but it was all I had. By the way, you do know we are back on the Natchez Trace Parkway, right?

More cypress in a swamp because we thought this was just the coolest thing to see with our own eyes. We need to return to the Natchez Trace and take better-quality photos someday.

To the best of our knowledge, this is a pond filled with water lilies and other stuff, probably some fish and maybe even some old Civil War trash or gold.

This Beetle is turning out to be a piece of shit, first the headlamp and then a tire, what’s next, the engine dying? (Yeah, that happened too, but not on this trip.) It sucks getting a flat out here, as there is nowhere to pull over. Within minutes of me getting the tire changed, a park ranger came by to ensure traffic was aware of us here on the side of the road, but I was already nearly finished.

This photo has always stood out for Caroline and me as an all-time favorite image of the many photos I’ve shot. How it talks to our memory and what it triggers is a mystery, but here it is for the rest of humanity to enjoy – or not.

While the picture is blurry, it is the only one I have that conveys an idea of what the original Natchez Trace looked like after it had been walked upon for centuries. This depression here, on the surface, is the aftermath of so many people and animals following the “trace” from Natchez to Nashville after floating with their trade goods to Natchez on the Mississippi River from the North. The walk back home on the trace was dangerous because people of unsavory character knew that the travelers were likely carrying a righteous amount of cash or gold with them.

Initially, we thought these heavily draped trees looked really cool, so we inquired as to what kind of trees they were. Turns out this is not cool at all, as a matter of fact, it’s horrible. The leaves are not from the actual trees; the trees are still below those leaves and could die from this intrusive, invasive pest that has camouflaged them. You are looking at kudzu, and if left alone, kudzu could choke you out, too. Kill more kudzu – it’s good for America.

About to leave the Natchez Trace Parkway in Mississippi. This is what is left of the Emerald Mound site which is designated a National Historic Landmark. These were ceremonial and used from approximately 1250 to 1600 A.D.

Mammy’s Cupboard – home-style cooking at its best. While not very politically correct in this age, it certainly makes you stop and ask, WTF? The food was great, and the idea that you are sitting under the dress of this lady is kind of strange, only adding to the experience that you can “brag” someday that you ate at Mammy’s or not.

Crossing over the Mississippi River but then we turned around and headed right back to Natchez for some reason or other?

Someone told me to look stern in Louisiana, or people would think us weird; Caroline is obviously failing. After we returned to Natchez, we headed south on the 61 and by the time we reached Woodville, Mississippi, we pulled over for a 15-minute nap. Continuing south, we drove through Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and then straight down, staying west of New Orleans and keeping that city for another time when we could give it adequate attention so instead, we headed to Houma for no particular reason other than it was on the map.

This would not be the last time we would eat at 1921 Seafood in Houma, Louisiana. We had the shellfish boil with potatoes, and it was amazingly great; it was also the first time Caroline had ever eaten crab. Our motel in Houma was called the Holiday Motel and was only $33.66 for the night.