Going Home

I am not sure where or what home is anymore. 

There is no doubt in my mind, I will always love East Tennessee.  I love the land, the hills, the ridges and the valleys, the trees and the seasons.  For years, this was home.  When I'd travel for a visit, I'd say I was going "home". 

I still get that nostalgia, even though many of the places are gone.  They were sold due to death, and debt and to simplify living.  These were not my decisions to make, thank goodness, but even if they had been, I am sure I would have come to make the same decisions.  It is the practical thing to do.

On my recent trip, we went and visited the "farm".  Wow. So many memories. I spent many, many hours on the farm.  At different times, there were cattle, and horses and chickens. There were gardens. There was a swimming hole, and the lake that had snapping turtles, and bass the size of a club, and a creek that ran through it all. There is a man made dam that creates the lake.  We use to walk over the dam from the drive way to the barn.  There was a little bit of creek that we had to jump over.  Many times we missed and got good and wet.

The pond. You can just see the barn through the trees.

Then there was the "little red house". That is what we've always called it.  It's still there and it's still red. We felt like it was a huge adventure to go stay overnight at the little red  house. I remember eating polk salad and whole, boiled yellow squash for the first time at this house.  (On different occasions, I think).  I liked them both.  The barn is about 75 yards behind the little red house.   I didn't walk over to it -- from a distance it looked the same as always, though I bet it needs lots of repair.   The little barn is gone now.  That's sad.  It was a great little 4 stall barn.

The property is gorgeous.  My cousin has done an excellent job with it.  He lives in the house that his parents built close to 40 years ago.  It is a gorgeous house, buried in the woods on the ridge. He's added a huge garage / workshop to support his race car hobby.

The barn.

My old driveway.  The house is out of sight from the road.

The house where we lived has been sold.  The long drive way curves around, and the house is out of sight from the road, especially in the summer when the trees have their leafs. I wish I could have caught a glimpse, but this is the country, and I know it is best not to drive an unknown vehicle up a long drive way to the home of someone you don't know.  Shotguns are prevalent. And used frequently.  I took a picture from the road - just the driveway.


I was pointing all this out to my kids, who were largely uninterested.  All in all, the property is largely unchanged. I wish things would have worked out so that I could have my little piece of home.