Oh Savannah
Something of a quiet day today. Weather was beautiful ( again) about 21c and sunny still in Statesboro.
In the interest of finding more Ogilvies we were out up and early and headed to the Museum at Springfield and the Historic Effingham Society. Google sent us cross country through a very weird route — the photo that Rrainy took shows well just how sandy the soil is here — not a dirt road but a pure sand road. In Ontario, at least, we cover this with A grade gravel to keep the dust down a little and make it not slippery to drive on. Was almost like driving in Snow.
The Musuem was cute — and empty. Any hope of asking questions was dashed by the complete absence of staff. The sign on the door said $5 but no one ever came to ask for money. There was a man who rushed in and acknowledged our existence and then disappeared again right away. Maybe the Vultures got him? The Museum is associated with a bit of a pioneer village — also pretty much empty. Lorraine and I wandered around the exhibits and they were about what you’d expect mostly artifacts of Effingham County’s involvement in the wars that have happened since 1730. They did have a few interesting maps — including one that that points out the other Augusta-Savannah Road that runs along the River and would have crossed the other Boggy Gut. So my theory is squashed — although the cluster of Oglesbys near midville does require further investigation. We’ll have to do more research in advance and head down again later or via e-mail over the internet.
Pretty clear from the exhibits that regardless of which Boggy Gut James was settled on he had his work cut out for him. If you’re a cotton farmer in those days before the cotton gin was invented a person could process one pound of cotton a day. The soil is thin. The Indigenous people were unhappy about how obvious it was that we were stealing their land and almost anything he would have learned about farming in Scotland would have been useless.
After touring the Museum and another visit to an antique mall we decided to drive into Savannah to have lunch. It’s about an hour’s drive and mostly through suburban malls; suburban U.S.A. is a pretty homogenous place and Savannah is no different.
Downtown Savannah is a different story — very nice old colonial buildings and a very consistent style. Beautiful big spreading Live Oaks and Magnolias are everywhere. Along the river their is a fascinating feature they call the Factor Walk. Savannah was built on the top of a bluff which by the early 19th century was eroding and collapsing onto the riverbank road and piers below. So they built a large retaining wall and then bridges from the retaining wall to the buildings on the riverfront. It is attractive and unique. It’s also situated next to a large park full of huge Live Oaks and a variety of monuments. The park is also well populated with blooming azaleas in white and pink. It was very pretty and very pleasant to walk in. The Factor Walk side of the riverfront buildings have some nice shops and a restaurant or two and quite a number of law offices. The lower level fronting the river has the usual tourist souvenir shops and kitsch.
We had lunch at Vic’s on the River on the Factor Walk side, sitting outside and overlooking the retaining wall. We split an order of Fried Green Tomatoes with goat cheese and a roasted tomato chutney. I had Shrimp and Grits (first time on this trip!) and Lorraine had a Flounder Po’boy. A couple of glasses of a nice Napa Sauvignon Blanc in the sun capped of a lovely meal.
As we were crossing out of the park a giant container ship pulled out of the harbour. The horn was loud enough to be the signal that the Universe was ending; y’all may have heard it. THe buildings in the foreground are a little over 5 stories on the river side of the embankment. Scared us out of our shoes.
We walked around some more and the we drove the hour back to the camp. Back at the camp I just sat in the Sun with a cold cider and paid bills and made reservations for our trip further south tomorrow.
A quick poem to finish out the day that I’ve been writing in my head since last year — started while walking in the woods in Southern Tennessee...
Experiencing Spring
The Easter Parade of Spring comes to us each in our own way.
Blushing Redbud leads the way, resplendent in her pink bonnet.
Shy Dogwoods in their communion dress dance on the forest edge.
Gold crowned Forsythia boasts of spring for all to hear.
But the stalwart Beech, after standing against the winter cold
Its leaves like bony fingers rattling in the gale
Waits for Spring to push it’s old leaves away,
new fingers pointing to Summer.
In the interest of finding more Ogilvies we were out up and early and headed to the Museum at Springfield and the Historic Effingham Society. Google sent us cross country through a very weird route — the photo that Rrainy took shows well just how sandy the soil is here — not a dirt road but a pure sand road. In Ontario, at least, we cover this with A grade gravel to keep the dust down a little and make it not slippery to drive on. Was almost like driving in Snow.
The Musuem was cute — and empty. Any hope of asking questions was dashed by the complete absence of staff. The sign on the door said $5 but no one ever came to ask for money. There was a man who rushed in and acknowledged our existence and then disappeared again right away. Maybe the Vultures got him? The Museum is associated with a bit of a pioneer village — also pretty much empty. Lorraine and I wandered around the exhibits and they were about what you’d expect mostly artifacts of Effingham County’s involvement in the wars that have happened since 1730. They did have a few interesting maps — including one that that points out the other Augusta-Savannah Road that runs along the River and would have crossed the other Boggy Gut. So my theory is squashed — although the cluster of Oglesbys near midville does require further investigation. We’ll have to do more research in advance and head down again later or via e-mail over the internet.
Pretty clear from the exhibits that regardless of which Boggy Gut James was settled on he had his work cut out for him. If you’re a cotton farmer in those days before the cotton gin was invented a person could process one pound of cotton a day. The soil is thin. The Indigenous people were unhappy about how obvious it was that we were stealing their land and almost anything he would have learned about farming in Scotland would have been useless.
After touring the Museum and another visit to an antique mall we decided to drive into Savannah to have lunch. It’s about an hour’s drive and mostly through suburban malls; suburban U.S.A. is a pretty homogenous place and Savannah is no different.
Downtown Savannah is a different story — very nice old colonial buildings and a very consistent style. Beautiful big spreading Live Oaks and Magnolias are everywhere. Along the river their is a fascinating feature they call the Factor Walk. Savannah was built on the top of a bluff which by the early 19th century was eroding and collapsing onto the riverbank road and piers below. So they built a large retaining wall and then bridges from the retaining wall to the buildings on the riverfront. It is attractive and unique. It’s also situated next to a large park full of huge Live Oaks and a variety of monuments. The park is also well populated with blooming azaleas in white and pink. It was very pretty and very pleasant to walk in. The Factor Walk side of the riverfront buildings have some nice shops and a restaurant or two and quite a number of law offices. The lower level fronting the river has the usual tourist souvenir shops and kitsch.
We had lunch at Vic’s on the River on the Factor Walk side, sitting outside and overlooking the retaining wall. We split an order of Fried Green Tomatoes with goat cheese and a roasted tomato chutney. I had Shrimp and Grits (first time on this trip!) and Lorraine had a Flounder Po’boy. A couple of glasses of a nice Napa Sauvignon Blanc in the sun capped of a lovely meal.
As we were crossing out of the park a giant container ship pulled out of the harbour. The horn was loud enough to be the signal that the Universe was ending; y’all may have heard it. THe buildings in the foreground are a little over 5 stories on the river side of the embankment. Scared us out of our shoes.
We walked around some more and the we drove the hour back to the camp. Back at the camp I just sat in the Sun with a cold cider and paid bills and made reservations for our trip further south tomorrow.
A quick poem to finish out the day that I’ve been writing in my head since last year — started while walking in the woods in Southern Tennessee...
Experiencing Spring
The Easter Parade of Spring comes to us each in our own way.
Blushing Redbud leads the way, resplendent in her pink bonnet.
Shy Dogwoods in their communion dress dance on the forest edge.
Gold crowned Forsythia boasts of spring for all to hear.
But the stalwart Beech, after standing against the winter cold
Its leaves like bony fingers rattling in the gale
Waits for Spring to push it’s old leaves away,
new fingers pointing to Summer.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteWhat a pleasant read. Yor manner of writing makes me feel like 'I'm there!'
ReplyDeleteThank You!
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