Cheekwood in Bloom

Cheekwood Estate was the next stop on my list.  I knew there were flowers and gardens, and not much more.  On the drive over, my uber driver was a slender, silver haired gentleman in a suit who looked an awful lot like Jeff Sessions.  A Nashville native, he said that if I thought Belle Meade was large, it would soon look like the guest house compared to Cheekwood.  Right he was.  Here is a view from the lawn of what I imagine was the breakfast nook or morning room at Cheekwood.

The view the lawn overlooks truly gives a hint of what the view was like back then...the trees still dominate the landscape.

Cheekwood is opulence and excess in 55 acres.  A couple, the Cheeks (her maiden name being Wood), built to mansion to accommodate a gilt mirror that was too large for their other house.  Sitting atop 55 acres, the Mansion is a 1930's estate home -- so this was a different feel than visiting the 1806 Plantation just a few hours earlier.  Construction began in 1929, the family moved in to the home in 1932.  Mr. Cheek died suddenly in 1935, Mrs. Cheek in 1945.  Their daughter and her family moved in and remained until 1957, when the property was offered the property up to be a horticultural center and art gallery.  This massive home, reminiscent of estate of Europe which are coveted for hundreds of years, was only used for 25 years.  Something about that is just stunning to me.

Entering the lobby is a spiral wooden staircase to the upper levels, and branching hallways to the left and right on both floors, adorned with tapestries and artwork.

The LED chandelier was apparently added as art feature in the 1990's.  It's quite beautiful.

This sun room was too large to get in a photo, but it was large, bright, and had it's own fountain.  So how do people make enough money to build a home like this on a whim?  Well, Mr. Cheeks' father basically invented wholesale grocery distribution.  The family also invested early in a cousin's coffee business, named after a famous Nashville Hotel, the Maxwell House.  It was President Theordore Roosevelt who tasted it and declared that it was "Good til the last drop!"  As for that grocery business, it was later bought out by a company called General Foods for about $40 million dollars.  So, I guess that's the kind of story that means you can build mansions around mirrors.

Family portraits and furnishings still remain.

I presume this to be Mabel and Huldah Cheek.

True to the era before TV, generous sitting rooms and libraries and entertaining rooms are throughout the house, with seating for dozens, centered around conversations.  Finer than the average hotel lobby.

The library immediately caught my eye.  I wasn't allowed to touch to check the editions, but it did make me check later to see when these classic stories were written.  Alice in Wonderland dates back to 1867, and Peter Pan was written in 1902.

Thousands of old books lined the shelves, but I suspect most were printed  around 1910-1940, a collection of modern work at the time.

The most fascinating thing about Cheekwood is the gardens.  I realized that I don't know a lot about gardens, but the design of the garden was an integral part of the estate's design.  More recently, a modern art sculpture walk has been created around the estate.  But the original design of the gardens is quite well defined.

The crowds were drawn to the vibrant colors of this stand of flowers.

The grounds are sloped and terraced to give views of the grounds from the mansion and views of the mansion from the grounds.

There were more weeping ruby trees ...

And an extensive Boxwood Garden as the primary style of garden around the mansion.  Boxwoods are a dense, evergreen shrub.  They can be styled in hedges and toparies, and be modeled to create and elegant landscape.

The pool and fountains were central to one section of the boxwood garden.

Running water and water features were thoughtfully added to provide balance and harmony to the gardens.  The boxwoods also provide shade for the perennial gardens; the hardy and colorful plants that help transition the grounds to the natural landscape below.

The horticultural society added gardens, and built on existing gardens on the property to create a gardener's delight.

There has been the addition of a Japanese garden, surrounded by stands of bamboo.  I learned that a Japanese garden is each unique and designed to be contemplated in from one precise, singular viewing point.

Larger trees surround the 3 ponds on the property that made up the water gardens.

These, of course, were part of the Color Gardens.

This garden was dedicated to Sigourney Cheek, the previous CEO of Cheekwood gardens and estate.

The gardens continued, through stands of tulips and sculptures.  The tulips were of every color and type available.  Shades of pink, purple, red, yellow, orange, white, hybrids, each with a name. I never knew there were so many types of tulips.

 Quite literally, it was nice to get a chance to be out smelling flowers instead of working.

Over in the Howe gardens, just beyond the Dogwood trees, I found a plethora of purples.

The white and purple together were absolutely stunning.

The rows of cornflower blues made me smile too.

These smelled absolutely delightful.

And as a feature for the kiddos, numerous trains (including a Thomas) cruised around buildings and bridges and mountain passes.  There was a strange predominance of dads and grandpas hanging out in this area too!

And complete with a thatched roof, this little cabin in the Howe Gardens offers shelter if the rain catches you out.  Cheekwood estates, definitely a gorgeous layout and view into a world few of us would ever know.

Southern Sauntering at Belle Meade

Years ago, I used to think people who got to travel for work must have a very glamorous lifestyle.  When the alarm went off at 2am Monday morning,  I headed to the airport on less than 3 hours sleep in leggings and a sweater and the hope of an empty row to sleep in.  This didn't happen on the 3.5 hours to Seattle nor the next 5 hours to Minneapolis, and was followed by a full on half mile sprint between gates to make the connection.  Boarding the last flight, exhausted, disheveled and a little sweaty from the luggage bearing jog through the terminal, I determined that nope, travelling for work is definitely not glamorous.

However, were it not for work, I am not sure I would have otherwise ever made my way to Tenessee.  I wouldn't have guessed it, but it's one of those places that feels cozy for no particular reason as you are touching down from the night sky into the airport and driving through town.  The first order of business was to catch a cab to the hotel, order room service, and go immediately to bed to make up for the 2am start to the day.  I stayed at the Loews, Vanderbilt which despite a very 70's hallway carpet had an extremly comfy bed and room to stay in.  Yes, the hotel was adjacent to Vanderbilt University, which surprisingly to this Canadian girl, is indeed in Nashville, Tenessee.  But wait, weren't the Vanderbilts old New York.  Yes indeed, Cornelius Vanderbilt provided the initial $1,00,000 investment in 1873 to build the university, despite having never been to the South.

After a blissful, excessive, and well deserved sleep marathon, I had a partial day to explore before the work training sessions began.  This is always the week I go back to Canada to lay flowers and light a candle for my niece, so I was struggling with being somewhere else at this time.  When I googled things to do in Nashville on Trip Advisor, I quickly realized their #16 would be my #1.  Belle Meade, a site of famed American Thoroughbred bloodlines, the descendants of which include both Secretariat and Seabiscuit...stories of racehorses my niece loved.  If I could not be home to honor her memory in the way I normally did, I would have to find a new way.  Jaycena, this adventure is for you.

Belle Meade takes it's name from both Old English and Old French.  It means beautiful meadow.  I was immediately enchanted with this place, which is both beautiful and haunting, as you can easily imagine the 200 years of history as you stand near the lazy creek and watch a warm breeze rustle through the flowers.  In fact, you can almost feel the energy of the history in the warm spring air.



Belle Meade was founded in the 1806, on the hill above Richland creek (pictured below).  A man named John Hardy purchased the 200 acres of land from a larger landowner, and built a small log cabin for himself and his wife. 

John Harding had no formal education.  He was raised as a farmer, and earned the money to get his own start from laboring for his father.  His role was the overseer of his father's workforce, which in the 1800's in Tennessee, were enslaved persons.  And so, the first part of Belle Meade's history is that of a Southern Plantation.  Belle Meade housed a blacksmith shop, a sawmill, a grist mill, a dairy, and eventually grew to 3,500 acres and housed 136 enslaved workers.  The Plantation existed as such until the end of the Civil War in 1867.  The Civil War occurred up to, around, and even onto the doorstep of the main house, as bullet holes still attest today.  As difficult as it is to reconcile such a beautiful place with such a history, it is also so important to learn about the past to better understand the present.

Today the original property has been subdivided into some of the highest priced real estate around town (nothing under a million), and the 30 acres around the main house remain open to the public as a museum, oh, and a winery.

But I digress.  I came here for the horses.  Much to my disappointment, there are no longer horses as Belle Meade (the city apparently passed an ordinance banning hoofed animals at some point).  But the history of thoroughbreds at Belle Meade goes back to 1816.  John Harding boarded thoroughbreds, purchased, bred, and trained, and was a jockey on his own thoroughbreds throughout his life at Belle Meade.  In 1839 his son William Harding inherited the property, and later expanded the breeding operation with his daughter Selene and her husband General William Jackson.  William Harding would die in 1886, Selene in 1892, William Jackson in 1903.  Belle Meade was left to their son, who died a few months later.  His young widow sold off the thoroughbreds, and ended the legacy of Belle Meade racing.  Belle Meade owned horses such as Iroquois, Bonnie Scotland, and Enquirer.  Almost all American throroughbred champions trace their lineage back to Belle Meade, including Seabiscuit, Secretariat, Man O War.

Tennessee property lines were laid out in hand lain stone walls.  These walls were erected more than 200 years ago.

One can easily imagine the footfalls of those who came before walking along these walls.  I took a moment to close my eyes and imagine the sound of voices on a summer day.

I imagined what a treat it must have been to wade in the stream in a hot summer day all those ages ago.  I smiled at the "Tennessee waterfall" in this little stream. 

I was delighted to find trees with purple flowers.  Those who have known me for years know there was a tree in Bermuda that only bloomed once per year, in May, with beautiful purple flowers.  Standing out in a sea of green, I spotted it the very day I moved to the island from the cab, and spent the next several days trying to find it again.  The blue jacaranda.  My "Jaycena tree".  This turned out not to be a blue jacaranda, but it was close enough to make me smile.

There are also many of these beautiful trees around.  I had never seen anything quite like these before.  They are called a weeping ruby tree.

This buillding, framed by another beautiful flowering tree, was the dairy.  You may be getting the idea by how that Tennessee is very beautiful.  From what I can, tell, yes, it's stunning.

And all this beauty sits atop the history of the region.  Colonization, slavery, and civil war.  The property still has fortifications.  The battle of Nashville spilled onto this property. 

The Confederate Army occupied the property during the battle of Nashville, their general taking over the home for his headquarters.  Belle Meade survived, and stands today much as it did back then, it's white limestone pillars sturdy and steadfast, rocking chairs occupied with people on the porch.

Belle Meade mansion bears the scars of its history though -- these columns show bullet holes from December 15, 1864 when Union Troops and Confederate Troops clashed on the grounds.  Selene Harding left the cover of the mansion and famously stood on the open balcony waving a handkerchief to urge on the Confederates despite the gunfire around her.

Today Belle Meade is a much quieter place.  The property has earned a period of rest after such a rigorous history.  Today, visitors sip award winning wine from the on site winery, or sample the ice cream made on site.  I enjoyed mostly sitting and watching the wind gently bend the stand of tulips in the foreground of a child's playhouse that has been standing since 1870.

I also enjoyed standing in a racehorse hall of fame.  Where the ancient champions snorted, drummed their hooves, and probably spent an occassional lazy day chewing hay on a warm, sunny Tennessee day.

A marker for one of the famous studs still stands from 1897 -- for Enquirer, a legendary sire.

I had found my horse history, and much more.  The end of my Bella Meade tour was also the start of a short love affair with the fascinating, conflicted history and tantalizing beauty of the American South.

9 years and safe to say "They" got a few things wrong

9 years.  And my heart breaks again.

So I am just going to come out and say it.  I have tested the wisdom of the ages and I feel convinced of a few things. Time does not heal all wounds.  Nobody ever falls for 'it's better to have loved and lost...'  There's no getting over it, getting on with it, or getting around it.  And Eleanor Roosevelt, this too, does not pass.  Ever notice if you drop a rubber ball it doesn't 'bounce back' to it's original height?  Can't get back to normal if all the things that are normally there are now not.  Those who know grief know that they collective "they" who brought such adages into place either didn't intend to apply them to grief, or were at best poetically insensitive if not complete emotional shysters.  Just saying.

Perhaps the ancient Egyptians captured it better.  Speaking a name breathes life into they who have vanished...to say one's name is to make them live.  I like the sound of that.

Brooke and Jaycena.  As long as we carry your names on our lips, your faces in our memories...you remain.

Jaycena and Laramie.  As long as we carry the sense of your spirit in our hearts, as long as we live, you remain.

I do my best to spot beauty, and see it as you might. I cannot see heaven through your eyes, but I hope somehow you can see this world through mine.  I took this picture yesterday while thinking of you.  "Fleurs," I thought, remembering your voice and the way you said it.  I was thinking you would find them beautiful as I did.

But today when I look at it, I realize perhaps I see beauty most when it reminds me of you.

 I guess I am realizing right now, that even through the tears of today and all these years, I am grateful for all the beauty you left us...your smile, your laughter, the best hugs in the world, the gentleness of your heart, and the purity of your expression.  But oh how we miss you.

25 years

Feb 18, 1993.  25 years ago this amazing person came into our world, but was only allowed to stay for a short 16 years.  This day hasn't gotten any easier over the last 9 years, it's a bittersweet pulling in the heart of wanting to celebrate all the joy and happiness she brought into our lives against the drag of all the heaviness of grief that time cannot lighten.

So today, I want to share some of her gifts.  Her smile, and the spark in her eye that hint at all her joy, humor, and exuberance.  Even if you didn't know her, you can tell this is a girl who you would share laughs with, who could make the mundane fun, who was filled with energy, gentle kindness, and bold spirit.

To those who did know her, I hope these photos of her smile remind you to listen for the echo of her laughter mixed with your own -- around a table, in the hallways of your younger years, mixed in with the smoky scents of a summer bonfire, and rising above a quiet Saskatchewan backdrop on the crisp air of a quiet afternoon or a twilight summer sky.

And may we also remember the times beyond the laughter.  When tentative dreams unfolded into plans, the times we cried, the times we learned from each other, and maybe just the times that seemed like they meant nothing at all -- laying on the floor listening to music, watching a movie on the couch, going for a drive  -- not knowing that those times really meant everything.  Because in those times, you were content to quietly hang out and invest in each other the most precious commodity any of us have -- time.

Today, as we remember the start of this precious life, and how much she meant to all of us, I hope we also remember how much she loved her friends, and family, and the true warmth of being loved by her.

On this day I can never help but think of how her life, and her loss, each changed me.  It's probably the hardest day of each and every year now.  During her 16 years, she made me braver, bolder, yet more grounded.  I remember her little voice on the phone as a very young girl calling from her grandma's house saying it was time I came home for a visit when it had been too long, and in all truth the main reason I bought a home that she pre-declared around age 6 that she would be living with me in the city when she went to university, and I wanted to have a place ready just in case.

I remember the sound of her voice so clearly, the strength of such a big presence, even as a very young girl.  The laughs, the silliness, trying not to laugh when it wasn't supposed to be funny but it was comically dramatic (who can forget the classic sign on the door one day that read "keep out.  i've been having a bad day for 3 days now").  I remember how she hovered over her little brother when he was small.  I remember the seriousness of a 12 year old girl who wouldn't drive the seated lawn mower around the yard even though it looked fun because it came with a manufacturer sticker that said children less than 16 shouldn't operate it.  The toddler I had to pick up and run through the crosswalk with to cross the street when they visited the city because she had been instructed as a farm kid that she must never go into the road (and she wasn't going to let me do it either).  I know she felt her emotions so deeply.  I watched her friendships blossom, and watched her go from a little girl who drew horses into a girl who loved the artistry of her camera and computer, and wanted to study graphic design.  I smiled as she told me how she loved volleyball, and wondered how the years were going so quickly when she met a boy.

I remember you so vividly, I miss you so much.  Love you Jaycena... today, always, and forever

Hello 2018

Hello 2018!  I hope that you and I can be friends.  I admit that my relationship with 2017, and to be fair 2016, was somewhat antisocial.  Work and sleep replaced adventuring.  But we did some good things 2017 and I.  We invested in physiotherapy for the knee.  We traveled to Utah for 3 weeks of  training.  We finished some work projects that really mattered.  We got to see some old friends who were kind enough to come to us.

But 2018, I hope we get to read more books together.  I hope "the hiking club" makes a hike this year.  I hope to take some amazing new photos.  I hope I can take my turn at flying to visit the friends who have visited me here.  I hope, 2018, that we suffer gains and not losses (unless we are talking inches and pounds, 2017 got that wrong).

We'll make a deal 2018 -- you bring good things, and I will pledge to show up.  I'll be there on weekends this year to enjoy you.  I'll stop hoarding those vacation days and let you show me new things, and revisit favorite places.  If you bring rain, I'll bring the new book.  If you bring sunshine I shall bask in you.  Maybe somewhere along the way we'll find some balance.

I was surprised to check in on you, little blog, and see you still have some readers along the way.  I will try to post more pictures of beautiful Alaska this year, and share whatever little adventures 2018 and I find.  Happy New Year all!

Hatcher Pass

I had heard there was an abandoned gold mine in a place called Hatcher's Pass.  I googled it, and saw pictures of wooden structures giving in the weather and time, and peaceful green alpine meadows.  It was May, and a gorgeous sunny day, so I decided to do a road trip.  Spring was everywhere...until the road turned upwards.

I'm going to start with "the victory shot" of the day.  This was my favorite photo.  A red roof against the white and blue of a pristine mountain valley.  It's probably my favorite because it wasn't easy to get.

This photo explains the day a bit more.  As mentioned earlier, it was a bright sunny day when I started this journey in my running shoes.  This us about the halfway point.  You may notice an absence of road.  This is because my car is outside of the view and it was a long, uphill walk in rather deep snow, which was fortunately packed on a path for skiers...but off the trail I think I might have just fallen through like a sinkhole.

I had to face serious mountain beasts, like this jedi marmot armed with a twig and ready to smack me down.

The irony of the sign was not lost on me.  As a first time visitor to the area, it was somewhat ironic to find a roadsign after an rather vigorous and lengthy snow hike.  Apparently, if you're normal, you wait a few weeks and just drive up/

Another thing the normal people in the area were doing...skiing.  Normal people show up here with skies.  I may not be normal, but I am most certainly determined and I struggled all the way to up to the old mine, ski-less, in my running shoes.  I may be a little stubborn.

I did eventually concede that a closer inspection of the buildings would simply not be possible on this particular day.

And I even found the parking lot...confirming there would be a summer road somewhere.

My stubborness paid off though, and soon people figured "hey, if that crazy lady is walking up there so can we."  And so i was rewarded with passing a few small groups on the way back down, including this little pug.  It was quite a journey for me, so I figured this little pug was a super athlete.  I asked if I could take his picture, and when I leaned down I said "Hello little mountain dog!"

He rewarded me with a stoic pose, looking back down the mountains.  And as I left, his owners, tickled pink, could be heard exclaiming about their amazing little mountain dog.

I also encountered what appears to be an abominable snow mosquito.

And I almost missed this well camoflauged snowbird.  It may be an arctic ptarmigan, but I'm not sure.  I quite recommend Hatcher Pass...but maybe a little later in the season!