(Photo from Landrum’s Homestead & Village)
- In a world that’s always rushing ahead, Landrum’s stands quietly as a reminder that sometimes the best way to move forward is to remember where we came from.
There’s a place tucked among the pines and pecan trees near Laurel where time seems to slow down, and if you listen closely, you can almost hear the echoes of another century drifting through the trees. Welcome to Landrum’s Homestead & Village, a little pocket of Mississippi where the past isn’t forgotten—it’s still alive and breathing all around you.
The first time I visited Landrum’s with my family, I wasn’t expecting to feel so connected to it. My boys took off down the dirt path, laughing and hollering, and I just stood for a minute, soaking it all in. The smell of wood smoke, the creak of an old porch swing, and the sound of folks greeting one another—it all felt like stepping into a memory I didn’t even realize I had. Landrum’s is the kind of place that is built with heart, history, and a whole lot of grit–and it is a Mississippi gem.
Landrum’s isn’t your typical museum or roadside stop. It’s a living story—built from sawdust, sweat, and faith—a place that honors hard work and family ties. It all started when Thomas Landrum and his family decided to build a small replica of a late-1800s settlement on their land.
What began as a way to show their grandkids how folks used to live slowly grew—board by board and nail by nail—into a community treasure.
Before the homestead existed, the Landrums ran a pine-furniture business. Beautiful pieces, all hand-made, a nod to Laurel’s roots in the timber industry. But Thomas wanted more. He wanted people to linger, to feel something when they visited. So, he built a cabin.
That first cabin went up during a Christmas promotion, and neighbors stopped by just to see what he was working on. Curiosity turned into excitement, and before long, one cabin became two, then three—and the homestead began to take on a life of its own.
These days, Landrum’s Homestead & Village holds more than 85 buildings and displays, each one built to tell a piece of Mississippi’s story. There’s a one-room schoolhouse, a blacksmith shop where you can still hear the clang of metal on an anvil, and even a “mystery house” that’ll make you question gravity itself. Kids can pan for gems or hop on a wagon ride, while grandparents smile, remembering a time when a day’s work ended with sore hands and a whole heart.
It’s the kind of place where generations meet in the middle—where kids learn, parents slow down, and grandparents share the stories that connect us all. School groups come from across the state to watch demonstrations of blacksmithing, corn grinding, and biscuit-making using an old woodstove. And honestly, each visit feels less like a field trip and more like a life lesson in grit, gratitude, and togetherness—the same things that built Mississippi from the ground up.
If you’ve never been during Christmas, make it happen. The whole place glows with tiny white lights. You can hear carolers near the chapel, smell cocoa and pine in the air, and see families bundled up on wagon rides beneath the stars. The Christmas Candlelight Tour has become a tradition for so many Mississippi families, and it’s easy to see why. It’s magic—simple, pure, and full of heart.
When Thomas Landrum started building the homestead back in 1984, he wasn’t chasing fame or fortune. He was creating something lasting—a space where families could laugh, learn, and remember what really matters. What began as a simple project to show his grandchildren how their ancestors lived has turned into a living history museum that still carries his vision today. His family keeps it alive—still building, welcoming visitors, and still adding new touches every year.
I can still picture my boys running through the cabins, calling for me to come see what they’d found. And standing there, I thought about all the hands that built this place and all the stories hidden in every nail and board. Landrum’s is a reminder that our heritage isn’t something tucked away in a book—it is ingrained in all of us.
So next time you’re near Laurel, take that little detour. Wander the paths, peek into the old schoolhouse, listen to the wind move through the trees. Because in a world that’s always rushing ahead, Landrum’s Homestead & Village stands quietly as a reminder that sometimes the best way to move forward is to take a step back and remember where we came from.
