Soaking in Inspiration

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity;
but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn
on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling
hills that reach to the far horizon?
- Hal Borland

Autumn is gradually breaking into colors. It is a delicious time of year, much more poetic than summer.

After eight years of living in the desert, my soul is in flight! Even though there are subtle hints of autumn in the desert, there is not the vivid dividing line between summer and autumn. The beauty of nature is a deeply important part of my world. Autumn in Middle Tennessee is sublimely, heartbreakingly beautiful!!! The light is like golden honey dripping out of intensly blue skies. The rocky outcrops of stone catch the light. The sunlit upland pastures are mesmerising. White spires of old churches point heavenward against the blue skies. Goldenrod and asters adorn the roadsides brimming with stands selling pumpkins, gourds, apple cider, and Indian corn. Wisps of fog settle in the curves of the road and valleys through tunnels of gold with orange and yellow raining down and swirling around you.

As Stanley Horowitz once lamented, "Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all." A mosaic it is! Scarlet, plum, red, copper, gold, orange, brown and green hues are arrayed all around. The sun through the leaves is like looking through stained glass.

The acoustics of the season are different too. The formations of Canadian geese flying and honking overhead. The crisp dry sound of walking on grass, and the gentle rustling of leaves permeate my days. It makes me want to seize each moment!
I'm soaking in inspiration....maybe that is why God created autumn.

Lark Rise to Candelford

"It was a morning of ground mist, yellow sunshine, and high rifts of blue, white-cloud dappled skies. The leaves were still thick on the trees, but dew-spangled gossamer threads hung on the bushes and the shrill little cries of unrest of the swallows skimming the green open spaces of the park told of autumn and change."- Flora Thompson



We are in the midst of the gradual transition from summer to autumn, cooler, earlier nights, one gold tinged leaf on a dull green sycamore. The early mornings are magical with gray mists creating a backdrop where the colors of summer glow. The lengthening shadows add depth to the changing landscape. The dry air creates a penetrating clarity. The thought of autumn in middle Tennessee makes my heart sing!

Southern by the Grace of God

“If there were no other reason to live in the South, Southern cooking would be enough.’ –Michael Andrew Grissom



The south is a place where good manners, going to church and family life are still important. Chiggers, dragonflies, coon dogs, “chewin tabacca,” carbs and ambrosia are alive and well. Breakfast in the south is not for the faint of heart, and I love a southern barbeque where there is nothing in the world more important than family, friends and food. But sometimes it’s just too hot to think about eating. Even when it’s almost a hundred degrees in the shade and every molecule of my body cries out for iced citrus sweet tea, I’m discovering the pleasures of August in the south. Hot weather food is pure delight!

A handful of fresh tomatoes, sweet onions and a green bell pepper in a food processor with a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar-a little fresh dill and a dollop of sour cream makes a cold gazpacho that cools you down and startles your tastebuds. It will revolutionize your thinking!

I am finding out that of all the great Southern culinary traditions, none is more sacred and respected than that of canning virtually anything edible that can be successfully preserved in a jar. It is called “putting up food.”

I am also noticing that there are a lot of elderly southerners, yet in Southern cooking, they use fats, sugar and salt, and there are no carbophobics! They don’t appear to bow to the egregious dictates of cholesterol, their food tastes great, they don’t have a lot of kitchen gadgets, and the cooks hardly ever look at a recipe. My Irish grandmother lived to the age of 104 and I'm almost positive she ate bread and potatoes every day!

I think that the secret to great Southern food is it’s natural simplicity and flavors. Food here reinforces strong bonds of family love and respect, through the discussing of recipes, preparation of food and sharing food. What a gastronomic legacy.” I'm looking forward to discover it!

“As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.” –Margaret Mitchell

Images Of The Country By Day And By Night

Just before dusk, the country comes alive with a musical Morse code. First, you'll hear the chorus of cicadas and the deafening, antiphonal throngs of tree frogs and bull frogs singing through the night. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the howling coyote and great horned owls calling to each other. The air is thick with every type of insect imaginable. As the sky fades from light blue to navy, the night is aglow with the twinkle of thousands of fireflies. Bright constellations poke through the darkening sky. It is the magic hour. Country nights are all about sunsets, fragrances and feasts. It is a whole new world. Snakes, lizards, coyotes, bobcats, rabbits, racoons, muskrats, opossums, skunks, deer, mice, moths, and frogs abound.

In the silvery morning light the striking silhouette of the surrounding hills emerges.The gentle cooing of mourning doves and the percussive tapping of woodpeckers builds. This cacophony of bird conversations builds as the opalescent moon disappears Soon, the gregarious cardinals and crows join in the chorus. Above the pastures, a hawk zeroes in on its prey with razor-sharp vision.
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The countryside is remarkably beautiful with rapidly moving clouds causing sriking variations in sunlight and multiple rainbows. The land, fields and hills are extraordinarily vivid in color. Summer in Tennessee is a time of wonder and abundance. I have never seen so many fruits and vegetables in my entire life. Tender June peas, snap beans, Irish and sweet potatoes, okra, collards, lettuce, sweet onions, turnips, squash, beets, cabbage, limas, speckled buttter beans, bell peppers, sweet corn, tomatoes, peaches, watermelon, cantelope, strawberries, and blueberries abound. Walking through country gardens and farmers markets in Tennessee is like walking through the Louve with an art connoisseur, except you can touch, smell and taste the still lifes.

To dwell close to nature is to comprehend the presence of a creator. The slow turning of seasons, the rhythmic cycles of planting, growth, harvest and decay, the extraordinary order of every detail is amazing. In order to see this one must commit to a slower contemplative pace. Maybe it is that we are wired for greater simplicity as we mature.

Tennessee country is beautiful and bountiful. God continually and with infinite variety reveals his laws of balance, rengeneration and continuance in the midst of change.

Out in the Fields With God

The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday,
Among the fields in Tennessee
Among the winds at play,
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might pass
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass
Among the new-mown hay,
Among the rustling of the corn
Where drowsy lilies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born-
Out in the fields with God!
-adapted from The Treasure Chest
by Charles L. Wallis

Take Me Home Country Roads

"The South we belong to is a good country, a valiant country; it always has had valor, and it has had industry and thrift. Our house is painted, our grass is green. For those of us who bend our backs and put our shoulders to the wheel, the South is still Canaan land; it is milk and honey......" -Ben Robertson,
Red Hills and Cotton

Over the past four months I've spent a lot of time journeying down country roads. I never would have imagined how much I craved to be on them, or how much of a part of me they could become. This didn't used to be the case. I used to dream about the magic of big city lights, the promise of fame and fortune, living in famous bohemian neighborhoods where I could practice my craft. The city, I thought would provide me with significance, purpose and professional success.

These days, my older, city self seeks out quiet people and plain houses. More and more I need to bathe in softly filtered sunshine and undisturbed moonbeams that cast a blue glow on the earth beneath.

A charitable, unreserved Southern hospitality lives deep in this beautiful countryside where people who just happen to moseying along the same road at the same time greet on another with the forefinger of their steering-wheel hands. You find no strangers here. No horns honk. Nobody whizzes past you. You drift with the road. You are one with the rhythm of the curves. My city self lived years just feet from neighbors and only knew their names from their mailboxes. I was surrounded by people, but completely alone.


While winding with the road up and down gently rolling pastures, I want to stop, to snap a mental picture of the weathered barns and black timber fences to dream about all night. It is the esssence of enchantment.

The Backroads of Franklin, Tennessee

After months of unpacking, getting settled into our new digs in Franklin, TN and getting everyone into new routines, I was in need of a little fresh air and a road under my feet, well under my wheels. The warm day was bright with blue skies, so I went for a drive amid the lush spring greenery of our new neck of the woods. It is an amazing sight to watch all of the wildlife roaming free in the country. Can't wait to find some new hiking trails.