Murfreesboro revisited

Got back from Murfreesboro two days ago.  I was there for too short a period of time.  I arrived on Friday late and left on a Tuesday early and got back to London on Wednesday early.  I’m still a bit jet lagged and yesterday morning I woke up and couldn’t tell if I was in Nashville, London, a plane or all three at one time.

Seeing Cabinwood really was like a kick in the stomach.  Pictures really can’t do justice to what happened.  I wasn’t exactly prepared for how I would feel, what it would look like, how I would react to seeing the rest of my family there.  Thank God the Nelson’s have a wacky sense of humor.  Everyone seems to be taking it in stride and dealing with the reality of the situation rather well.

Looking downstream at the creek that runs through Cabinwood.

Looking downstream at the creek that runs through Cabinwood.

Elle at Creek before after

Eleanor had to stay in London.

The photographs on the right are of course what things look like today.  I couldn’t get the exact framing of any of these shots as the water level is so high.  They’ve had an awfully wet May in Tennessee but I think you get an idea of the tree cover that was lost.The hay bales were stacked by the city to prevent erosion.  There were many damns created in the creek by the tree debris that gathered in spots.  There was a sense of openness created by the lack of trees.  It was a strange feeling, to see the sky in this world that is usually so densely forested in my mind.  I’ve never been to Brazil, but I felt the sense that I was on the outskirts of a rain forest that had just been logged.  I kept trying to remember distinct trees when I looked at the stumps remaining.

A logger told Johnny this was the biggest Eastern Cedar he'd ever seen.

A logger told Johnny this was the biggest Eastern Cedar he'd ever seen.

But I couldn’t remember singular trees.  This cedar is a great example of what I mean.  If someone that makes their living off of trees says that this could be the largest specimen he’s ever seen of this particular tree then it surely must have made an impression on me.  I was aware in all my journeys to Cabinwood how great the place was in its natural setting.  But I couldn’t grasp what these trees looked like singularly.  I could only precieve the trees as a collective.  It might seem a simple idea, why would I know one tree from another?  There isn’t really a reason why I should.  But I found it strange how I could only think of the trees, and the farm as their collective whole and not individual parts.  I guess it gives a whole new meaning to the saying seeing the forest for (through) the trees.

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