Showing posts with label Tennessee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tennessee. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Pay Day for The Soul


Getting out of town was tough this month. There were work obstacles. The weather was uncooperative. A truck carrying 40,000 pounds of broccoli got into an accident on Interstate 40 just 20 miles from my exit. The hurdles were many!

But waiting at the end of all that headache (and painfully full bladder on the I-40 "parking lot") was the serenity I so craved. My fourth road trip of 2019 took me to Radnor Lake State Park in Nashville. I chose this spot because of all the beautiful photos I had seen in other people's Facebook posts. I needed to see it for myself.

Finally off the road, I checked into my hotel for the overnight stay, dropped my bag in the room, threw my hair in a ponytail and headed for the park. Radnor Lake is sort of nestled in a residential area. The road to get there winds past massive homes and manicured lawns leading to the west entrance and a cozy visitor's center. The kind lady inside sold me a sticker, tore off a map for guests, and pointed me in the direction of "the prettiest way" to get to the aviary. You know I love the birds!

Off I went.


The first stretch of the cedar chip-covered trail, known as the Spillway Trail, leads straight into the woods where I stopped every few paces just to listen to the familiar chirps of Carolina Wrens, Tufted Titmice, and various woodpeckers.



The ground was still damp from overnight rain (the same rain that kept me home in Memphis the night before). The air was thick, helping to muffle any sounds from the road just yards away, sounds that were quickly drowned by the roaring water of Otter Creek the further up the trail I hiked.


The path wound further into the forest past the rushing creek and closer to Radnor Lake. I had walked less than one mile but already the worries of life back home had melted away. It was blissful taking photos of the glassy water, the occasional Cardinal, and the heavy clouds that were still threatening to unload. I was definitely in my element, throwing a smile and "good afternoon" to fellow hikers. I set up my camera to take a selfie. Not even a little embarrassed, I flung my arms out wide!



I followed the advised path to the Barbara J. Mapp Aviary which is up not one but two steep hills. Huffing and puffing, I arrived to check out the Great Horned Owl and Bald Eagles living at the top. The raptors were stunning. The owl winked at me a few times, I winked back (because that's what you do!) and made my way back down to the lake.

At the foot of the steep hills I spotted a trailhead that would take me off the paved path and deep through the woods. Yes, please!


There's no feeling like being surrounded by nature, but able to see people on the paved path below. I wanted to yell, "Hey! Get up here! That path is great, but this is even better... you have no idea what you're missing!" I kept that all to myself though, and embraced the warmth of what felt like a secret. I could see them, but they couldn't see me. The trail in the trees had the ambiance of isolation and peace, but it was also challenging terrain. No pavement. No blazes. Just trodden earth to follow, often muddy and covered in tree roots. I surrendered my shoes to the mess and followed the path as far as it would take me, which was right back to start.




I had covered a lot of ground, so it was time to call it a day. At the hotel I plotted the next day's activities.

Sunday morning found me back at Radnor Lake, and just in time to beat the rush. The sun was finally out and many others had the same idea: spend Easter morning soaking it up in the church of Mother Nature.

My plan was to see a different side of the park, so this time I stuck to the trail that wound around the lake itself. I was never alone on this trek and that was okay. Everyone seemed light on their feet that day in the warmth of the sunshine. The birds were busy, bees bounced between blooms, and the local wildlife was not shy!




Sunday's stroll was not about photography or keeping track of how far I had walked. It was about being in the moment. I stopped at one little deck that offered a scenic view of the lake and took it in. I wandered back through the portion of the wooded area where I first set foot on the trail the day before and found the birds' greetings just as sweet.

And under the canopy of foliage I probably couldn't identify, I was proud. I had done it. I was one-quarter of the way through the year and I had kept my resolution to get out and see more of what's around me. And so much of what's around me is amazing. I had planned and taken this trip by myself, no one to entertain me but me. And I had done it better. Better than I could have done it one year ago, even six months ago. Along with my "see the world" goal this year, I vowed to improve my health. I've been diligent about exercise and eating better (mostly), and I swell with satisfaction when those efforts pay off. And Radnor Lake was a huge pay day for my soul!


Sunday, October 16, 2016

The Haunted Church

I don't believe in vampires. I don't believe werewolves. I don't believe in zombies, mummies, trolls, Big Foot, Nessie or other assorted monsters.

Ghosts? I suppose it's possible. I have no first-hand experience with the supernatural... Except that time I went to a haunted church that I didn't know was haunted until I Googled it while parked in front of it.


I took the back roads home from Hatchie National Wildlife Refuge Saturday for the scenery and the nice long drive. I spotted a few markers from the Tennessee Historical Commission along the way, so I stopped here and there. This one I almost drove right past. I hit the brakes, turned around and followed the arrow to check out an old church, thinking it might be neat to photograph.

I paid so little attention to the actual sign that I missed how far up the road it was. I almost gave up and turned around, when I came around a curve and there it was.

I saw the sign first.



The entire Mason, TN church was fenced with a rusty "no trespassing" sign clanking against the gate. To complete the spooky scene-setter, it is nestled back off the road (which is sparsely traveled), hooded by oak trees. And I wasn't expecting tombstones.

It didn't immediately give me the willies, though I think subconsciously I was glad I couldn't get any closer. I snapped a few photos of the small cemetery on the right, and a few of the church head-on. I paused to watch what I thought was a hawk make a break for the trees, and that's when I noticed the front door was open. Not to be melodramatic, but I do not remember that door being open when I pulled up. I really think I would have noticed.

That's when I started getting the creeps.



I got back in the car and did a quick search to see exactly what the Internet had to say about this historic church. Turns out: nothing good as far as I'm concerned! Message boards are full of stories about the grounds, the graves of infants, and a statue of Mary that cries blood.

What? Whatever. I'm completely skeptical of urban legends.

But I can't deny that the longer I sat there, the more the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I definitely felt too exposed, yet too hidden, and my instincts (and overactive imagination) told me it was time to leave.

It took about 45 minutes to get home and the whole way I couldn't stop thinking about the doors. Further research turned up more stories about those very doors opening by themselves. This one from Your Ghost Stories was over the top but it accomplished the goal of every campfire ghost story: I was completely freaked out.

To be fair (and rational), my searches also uncovered those who chastise the thrill-seekers at "Old Trinity," drunks and teenagers who are blamed for vandalizing the property, desecrating the graves and causing extensive and expensive damage.

There is a Facebook page for Friends for the Preservation of Old Trinity. There are so many more photos there, but it does look like the page has not been updated in a while.

It is also worth noting that there is a full moon tonight.



Monday, October 10, 2016

W.C. Johnson Park


I felt sort of like Memphis riff raff this morning as I drove a little too close to the SUV in front of me on Houston Levee in Collierville. The speed limit was 40 mph and I could not figure out why on a Sunday morning with little to no traffic we were not doing 50. Eye roll.

I was on my way home, eager to sit down and check out the photos I had just taken. Today was my first visit to W.C. Johnson Park. I saw a few pictures online and I knew there was supposed to be a pretty scenic boardwalk through a dense wooded area, but I didn't know what to expect.

I was blissfully surprised!


It's a little more than two miles out and back on the boardwalk, the entrance near the back of the park. Right away I noticed how peaceful it was at 7am on a Sunday. Only a couple of walkers were up early with me, strolling to the sounds of robins, cardinals and red-bellied woodpeckers. The sun wasn't fully risen, and the trees still hung on to their summer foliage, though a few were looking bare under the canopy.


Under the shade, the first thing I encountered was a short bridge taking me deeper into the woods. 

The boardwalk was well-maintained with benches here and there. I ran into everyone from runners to dog walkers to nature enthusiasts like me. One man pushing a little girl in a stroller stopped to chat and asked about the coolest thing I'd seen so far. I told him I was intrigued by the "poka-dotted tree."


Onward I walked, taking it all in. The views were stunning, the sounds relaxing, even the smells were fresh like wet grass. 


The path winds from the park toward the Wolf River where I stopped and sat for a few minutes.



I finally found a place to get off the boardwalk where a dirt path cuts through the woods. But venturing out does not come without warning! And there were a couple of moments when I realized they weren't kidding...




Once I made my way back to the beginning, I realized I'd missed something. A gorgeous gazebo sits right on the banks of the swampy area in the park, another perfect place to sit and take it all in. From there I could hear the calls of a pair of hawks nearby.



I can't say enough good things about this short walk in the woods! Everyone I encountered was friendly, the surroundings serene. I can't wait to visit again!

W.C. Johnson Park

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