There’s something about this time of year in Livingston Parish that just feels like home. The air starts to shift, crawfish boils turn into weekend plans, and the magnolia trees begin to bloom like they’ve been waiting all year to show off. It felt only right that our very first print edition would be centered around something so rooted in where we come from. Mudbugs and Magnolias is more than a theme. It’s a feeling.
When I was in pre-k at First Baptist Church on River Road in Denham Springs, we had an Easter program where all the boys dressed as farmers and all the girls dressed as flowers. Most of the girls showed up in floral dresses, simple and sweet, exactly what you would expect. I did not.
At the time, I had just started dance classes at Phyllis Guy Dance Studio, and my mom was fully committed to it. I had a dark green leotard, the exact shade of a flower stem, and my grandma took it a step further. She made me a full magnolia costume by hand. It wrapped around my neck like big petals, with one bent down just enough so you could see my face. I wasn’t dressed like a flower. I was the flower. My headband had little yellow pompoms on it to act as the inside pollen.
Looking back, it probably looked a little ridiculous compared to the other girls. I remember standing there, noticeably different, while everyone else blended in. That was the first time I can remember being called weird.
Funny enough, while I was trying to track down a picture of it for this column, I called my grandma to ask if she had one. She had no recollection of it at all. In her mind, I was a sunflower. I had to laugh, because I know for a fact, I was not a sunflower. My mom remembers it exactly the way I do, and somewhere out there, there’s a picture we’re still trying to find that proves it.
But that’s kind of how memories work, isn’t it. They shift, they soften, they get retold a hundred different ways. What sticks isn’t always the exact detail, but the feeling.
And I remember the feeling.
If you ask my mom, she might still say Easter lily. My grandma will say sunflower. But I remember being set on a magnolia. The kind from the teddy bear trees in our backyard that smelled so good you didn’t forget it. I wanted to be that. And I was.
At the time, I didn’t realize how much that moment would stick with me. But looking back now, it makes a lot of sense. I’ve never really been interested in doing things the way everyone else does them. I’ve always leaned into what feels right, even if it looks a little different from the outside.
This magazine is no different.
Living In Parish Magazine was built on the idea that the stories worth telling are the ones rooted in real people, real places, and real community. It’s not about being the biggest or the loudest. It’s about being genuine. It’s about highlighting the businesses, families, traditions, and moments that make Livingston Parish what it is.
This first issue is a reflection of that. From the crawfish boils that bring people together to the local spots that keep our culture alive, to the small details that make this place feel like home. It all matters.
Mudbugs and Magnolias.
A little messy, a little beautiful, and completely ours.
If this magazine does anything, I hope it reminds you of where you come from. I hope it makes you proud of it. And I hope you see yourself somewhere in these pages.
And if you’ve ever felt a little out of place, like the only one dressed differently in a room full of people, just know you might be exactly where you’re supposed to be.
— Lizzie
Elizabeth (Lizzie) Baudoin
CoOwner
Editor
Living In Parish Magazine
