Shut Downs (and how to cope with them)

An avid gardener, I lose heart in gardening in the summer months, usually from the end of July to mid-September along the Gulf Coast. This year, the heat seems to have lasted longer, into October, and the government shut down that began October 1st has exacerbated the anxiety from which I tend to suffer during the hottest months. I prefer a cooler climate--rationally, emotionally, and physically--but fate has led us once again to Louisiana, where the climate seems hotter than when we last lived here (mid-80s) and where rationality rarely flourishes. My late summer garden goes into maintenance mode, in which I complete the most essential tasks: lawn mowing, some desultory weeding and edging. I pass the long, hot afternoons in our old, early twentieth-century cottage, with its high ceilings and cool wooden floors, watching British crime drama on Netflix while crocheting or hand-sewing my latest project. And I read a lot of online news. (When I was teaching, I would spend the hot summer months reading voraciously.) So any intensive gardening work shuts down by mid-August, to be revived for fall planting, if the weather permits.

My writing here also shut down in mid-August, as I was spending a lot of time scanning old family photographs for my parents and old letters written by Tom's ancestors.

But just as I was looking forward to cooler fall weather, for planting bulbs and clearing the spent flowers and other debris of this year's gardens, the government shut down began. Tom was furloughed, without pay, from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and a late summer storm began brewing in the Gulf. Now we're waiting--for Tropical Storm Karen to hit the Gulf Coast and for Congress to resolve the shut-down. Fortunately, early in the summer we had two water oaks near the house cut down in anticipation of the next hurricane; these trees have shallow roots, and as they near the end of their lifespan, as our trees were, they are apt to be uprooted by wind and rain. Then, this past week, we had the roof repaired over the guest/TV room (an old enclosed porch), where it had been leaking in every rain storm. Finally, and most fortunately, we have some savings to get us through a few weeks without income. Such foresight, however, does not totally belay the anxiety that accompanies an approaching storm or that attends concern over our family's finances. So we took a break from our anxieties yesterday by visiting the Burden Center in Baton Rouge; we had visited the Rural Life Museum years ago, and Tom had walked the wooded grounds when he was studying dendrology at LSU over 25 years ago.

the Steele Burden Memorial Orangerie

The day was much hotter than I had hoped an early-October day would be as we parked in the Burden Conference Center lot. The Burden Center is a part of an old family plantation, first owned by William Pike and then passed on to a daughter who married John Charles Burden. The children from that marriage lived on the farm through much of the twentieth century, and the family eventually donated the land to LSU. Today, about five miles of trails wind through woods that are rather open, courtesy of Hurricane Gustave.

Just off I-10, Burden Woods is never free of the sound of traffic, but it's a green oasis in an urban landscape.

The trails through Burden Woods are covered with gravel, and some are wide enough for wheeled vehicles.

We found the Trail Map a little confusing, however, as it did not accurately depict the trails we were walking. As we were describing its faults to a docent later at the Rural Life Museum, the woman took my copy, looked at it, and declared it useless. She crumpled it up before I could tell her I had written on it the names of some ginger species I had seen in the Ginger Garden that I was thinking of researching for my own garden areas.

The Rural Life Museum is full of interesting farm machinery from the past, old buggies and funeral carriages, quilts, paintings, collections of jewelry, and household items. Some are labeled; most items are organized by type (such as were several old sewing machines, lined up against the wall in one room). The place still looks like a work in progress, and I hope sufficient funding allows that work to continue. We noticed that all the rose beds in the Rose Garden are maintained by volunteers.

carriage hearse, Rural Life Museum, Baton Rouge, LA

Acadian Loom, Rural Life Museum

The museum grounds contain many old buildings from past rural life, including slave cabins that served as homes through the mid-twentieth century. As the only people walking the trails on this hot October day, we decided to save a walk through Windrush Gardens for another day, perhaps a cooler day in spring or early summer. And, anyway, we had a storm for which to prepare.

Exiting the Rural Life Museum for the grounds

slave cabin, Rural Life Museum

a house that has been moved from its original location to the grounds of the Rural Life Museum

old church on the grounds of the Rural Life Museum