My job for the road trip was to scout out lodging for each stop. Cliff then reviewed my choices and we made a final decision.
Menopause was a wake up call for me.
Take some chances.
Seek new experiences.
Don’t get stuck in the status quo.
But I shocked Cliff when I sent him the link for The Shack Up Inn.
After all, it only took one stay for me to say no forever to Motel 6.
Yep, sharecropper shacks moved to a working plantation in Clarksdale, Mississippi, heart of the Delta Blues.
“The Ritz we ain’t” is their motto.
We picked the Red House.
Here’s Cliff in the kitchen.
Here’s the counter where I blogged.
This is the bedroom, and the door you see leads to a screened porch.
The shack was as clean as the decor is funky:
A few of the other shacks:
The grounds are decorated with tired machinery, vehicles, and such.
Cliff found a walking trail along the edge of the crop fields. He returned with this lovely flower. Any guesses what it is?
A Blues Club is crammed with even more vintage things.
I know staying at the Shack Up Inn wasn’t really an act of great bravery.
But it felt kinda brave.
I loved it!
The re-purposing of the shacks and all the artifacts hit a chord in my preservationist heart.
The mood of the place suits the steamy and sultry sound of the region’s music.
The price is right, too.
The chocolate glazed doughnuts tasted delish in the morning.
And for a menopausal lady, I slept better in that old shack than I have in years.