Thanksgiving in Mt. Pleasant, Texas dawned foggy. After our long day chasing after eight-foot rabbits and world famous barbecue on Wednesday, we were glad to stay in the hotel till well after nine waiting for the fog to lift. The hotel's complimentary breakfast bar included the ubiquitous make-your-own-waffle setup, and when I poured the batter in, I noticed that the waffle iron's shape was unusual, but it was not until the waffle was on the plate that I realized that it was in the shape of the state of Texas. Aside from being a little undercooked around Fort Worth, it was delicious.
When the fog lifted, the landscape of East Texas and Arkansas was green fields, rolling hills and trees, trees and trees in a variety of autumn colors. The dog was awestruck. So were we.
I somehow believed that we had to have a traditional turkey dinner, and we tracked one down at Cracker Barrel in East Memphis, Arkansas, just before crossing the Mississippi River into Tennessee. Driving to Nashville in darkness, we could only imagine the beauty of the roadside scenery. Tomorrow, on to the Blue Ridge Mountains into Virginia.