Spring 2023

Atlanta Weekend

Jazz, Golf, and Trees—these are the keywords from this weekend’s outings. They may also be keywords in a search for Atlanta activities.

For us, the weekend began at the High Museum of Art’s Friday Jazz Night. This was our first time going, so we did not quite know what to expect. Jazz—yes. But that was about it. There were two jazz groups playing so we could go to both venues—one inside the museum under the winding staircase that leads to the exhibit rooms, and the other outside on the terrace—each playing a different style of jazz. If I knew anything about jazz or music, I could tell you more about what we heard. But it was lively, and folks in the audience were enjoying the music, swaying to the rhythm, tapping their feet.

For me, much of the fun was looking at the audience. The rooms were packed with a mash of people, standing, grooving, drinking, talking, squeezing their partner, the moneyed older couples, and the trendy younger set, also apparently well heeled. There was a kind of energy, a joy of being out and hearing America’s music, but there was also something a bit discomforting being in a room stuffed with people. Boogies of the covid pandemic flashed across people’s faces, mine included, as we thought about the proximity to possible germs and viruses. Such is the mindset of the post-pandemic era, that we are never 100% comfortable in crowded spaces.

Going out to the terrace was better. We could enjoy the sweet April weather and smells of flowers blooming while listening to the music, some jazz mixed with blues and reggae.

The High Museum advertised that one could get drinks and light snacks. There were plenty of cash bars stationed around the jazz venues, but all I saw in the way of food was a tent on the entrance patio advertising corn dogs, funnel cakes, and fries—nothing I wanted. Reminder to self: be sure to eat before you come down to Atlanta for Jazz Night. As it was, we finally had dinner around 9:30 when we drove through our local Zaxby’s and got fried chicken tenders and fries.

Saturday shone bright—and chilly and windy, making it a pretty if challenging day for Wally and Brad to play golf. Nicely hit balls stalled mid-air by gusts of wind. But they enjoyed the layout of the course, Bear’s Best Atlanta in Suwanee inspired by holes Jack Nicklaus played—#12 at Muirfield in Michigan, #3 and #18 at Gleneagles in Scotland, #15 at the PGA Championship Course in Florida.  For dinner, I fixed my frito-enchilada casserole, a childhood favorite for Brad; this old recipe I got from mother calls for a 49-cent bag of fritos—that was a while ago!

To round out the weekend in Atlanta, on Sunday Wally and I went for a hike at Vickery Creek Trails in Roswell, near the Chattahoochee River. It is a wonder to me that you can be in the forest without leaving the city. You can be walking a tree-shaded trail and hear the hum of cars and the whine of airplanes above, and yet feel the serenity of the woods. Other walkers, families, couples with dogs, one guy running barefoot, friends walking and talking share the trail without crowding it.

Spring greens and flowers were making their shy appearances. My botany is not very good, so Wally got the Picture This app for his phone so that we can identify the flowers and trees we come across on our future walks.

The delicate flowers of the Mountain Laurel with magenta lines leading to the stamen and the goodies for bees and birds, festooned trees along the way. And the Bigleaf Magnolia seemed like a tree version of the banana plant, its leaves so long and broad that it seemed oddly out of place among the pines and oaks.

As we were nearing the end of our hike, we heard a Whoo hoo in the distance. It was so loud and deep throated, we thought at first it might be a person imitating an owl. But when we heard an answer coming from a different direction, we realized that these were two owls (maybe three) whooing to each other across the canopy. When I heard the deep hoo coming from overhead, I looked up, and there it was, a Barred Owl, a great brown mass that wagged its tail feathers as it called out. We got a few pictures and set off to continue our hike—only to have one of the owls, wings spread wide, whoosh in front of us to join the sitting owl and then off they went. What a moment! A reminder that even in the middle of the greater Atlanta area we share space with animals, with sections of the wild.

This is a sample of what you can do on a weekend in the Atlanta area—hear some music, play some golf, and get out for a walk in the woods. All within about 20-30 minutes from home.