I find myself entering a tunnel. Bowing trees with bright green early summer foliage dance on the breeze and a weird mist, caused by the heat of the day evaporating a recent downpour, hovers above the ground. The narrow road leads me around a curve that is green and mysterious. Two large buzzards, in unison fly from somewhere behind me, lightly touch the road before soaring above the trees. It is as if they are guiding me through this green maze. Just one more bend and as the tunnel opens to clear skies, I have arrived.
A lady and a large black dog are waiting for me, welcoming me with such enthusiasm that I am momentarily taken aback. Even the dog that I have never met before greets me as if I am a long lost friend. I love coming to this special place, a place that I shall keep secret because it is not mine to share.
Just this morning, I had said goodbye to my travelling companion of the last three weeks, the lady with whom I have pounded the streets of New Orleans, the lady who is passionate about Elvis and with whom I spent three unforgettable days surrounded by all things Elvis, and the same lady with whom I have shared a Jeep over 3000 kilometres between Memphis and Nashville through six states many byroads and dozens of attractions.
It's time for a rest.
And I’m off to a good start as we make our way down to a church hall nearby to do something I have never done before, and the experience is surprising. Never one to appreciate the benefits of meditation, I find myself sitting within a circle of women, one of whom is unpacking a number of jars in many sizes. We wait for her to set herself up and then the session begins. To be honest, I have been wound up for the past three weeks as it is not always easy to ensure the success of a road trip, so to sit in silence, to listen, and to let all thoughts, negative or otherwise dissolve is possibly the best way to spend a couple of hours.
But it is not silent.
The lady with the jars arranges them just so, then uses a stick or baton to create sounds. The different-sized jars produce a different sound that resonates, but together over the time we are meditating, this beautiful lady creates an unearthly but not unpleasant musical background to the session. Called a sound bath, the sound waves are meant to envelop us, slow down our brain waves, and to put our bodies into a dreamlike state. It didn’t happen quite like that, but concentrating on the sounds is relaxing and after the session, I feel quite rejuvenated.
I learn from a couple of the ladies that there is an extraordinary exhibition in a nearby garden, which I vow to visit during my stay.
My activities unfold slowly over the next few days. We amble into Fairview one day, Franklin another. The old part of Franklin is very historic and has played an important role in the civil war. There is a story about the confederate statue that I think is important. The Confederate Monument located just outside the Court House was installed in 1899 and is an Italian marble single confederate soldier on top of a tall column and base. On 17 August 2017, a petition for its removal was circulated, whilst an opposing petition for it to remain was started. Both petitions had thousands of signatures, so the city was left in a quandary.
But there was and is a solution.
In October 2023, just a few months ago, a new statue was unveiled. This statue stands close to eye level, is of a black soldier that tells of a more inclusive and accurate history that includes the voices of the black soldiers that have long been left out. I believe that erecting this statue, which faces that of the confederate soldier on the column, provides an inclusive balance to the story. It is a much better way to handle those with a desire to erase history and has far more impact than the removal of the original statue. Here, I can see the two sides of the same event being told in parallel and each showing their own history, which is, or should be respected by all. (The following photo was selected from the internet and the photographer is Rhea Cole.)
We visit a recording studio, and I listen to the conversation between artist and sound engineer. We eat genuine Mexican food that is sublime and has a total bill amount that is surely too cheap. On the way back we pass by ethnic supermarkets; we stop at one that stocks mostly Mexican and Korean delicacies; the smells of Asian and Mexican spices colliding but not in an unpleasant way. This place reminds me of our Greek and Italian supermarkets, which provide specialty comforts that are otherwise not available in regular supermarkets.
I take a day trip alone. I drive along lush, green and beautiful narrow country lanes without seeing one village or town before turning into the carpark of my destination. This is quite remarkable as I am sure that just beyond my line of vision is probably a freeway or at least a busy road because I find myself on the outskirts of Nashville. I park the car in the designated carpark and make my way to the entrance of Cheekwood Botanical Garden located in the Belle Meade suburb of Nashville. The Cheekwood Estate was built by Leslie Cheek and his wife Mabel Wood on 40 hectares (100 acres) of land in West Nashville. The mansion and botanic gardens had been completed in 1932, but by 1960, the estate was offered to Horticultural Society of Middle Tennessee, and together with funds raised from the sale of the original Nashville Museum of Art, the estate opened the mansion, a museum of art, and the botanic gardens.
I am here today to look for six trolls that are scattered throughout the garden. The giant trolls, sculpted by Thomas Dambo, have noticed that humans are disconnected from nature and have started harming the planet. The goal of the trolls is to help humans rediscover nature and inspire them to be good stewards of the earth. At the entrance gate I am given a map that will help me find the trolls and I start walking through the shady grove filled with different types of dogwoods that thrive beneath the canopy. Many have finished flowering, which I am sorry about because I would love to see them all flowering at the same time.
Most of the trolls are easy to find and are not too far from the front entrance. I am surprised to see many families here today enjoying the sunshine and being involved in troll-hunting. From the ticket office, along the path, I stop and photograph four in quick succession. I leave the trolls for a while and explore the grounds of the mansion. I really don’t have the hours needed to explore the house as well. I walk along the mansion’s circular driveway before finding a café hidden in a group of buildings where I gratefully take the weight off my feet and have a bite to eat. Reenergised, I go in search of the remaining trolls, finding one hidden near a fence just below a trio of lotus-filled lakes. I hear a loud noise and realise it is coming from a huge bullfrog sitting almost submerged in the lake. I realise that the position of the sun is moving, and cannot believe that I have been here for several hours already so I sweep up towards the exit, meandering off to visit the last two trolls.
It's amazing how a person can visit and revisit a place without actually seeing what lurks in the back streets! Cheekwood gardens are beautiful and as I wander through the different coloured gardens and watch bees busily collecting pollen in the still-bright sunshine, I am thankful that I have this opportunity to explore this wondrous place. The last troll holds a flag, its toothy smile reflects exactly how I feel as I make my way back to the car and to the farm.
Title Quote: Rebecca Correia
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