Dixieland Delight

This morning we hit the great outdoors early. We have officially moved back to the deep south as it is only the middle of May and the temperatures have already hit the mid 90's. Oh and the humidity, lest we not forget the 100% humidity.

We hadn't fully explored our neighborhood and Roxy was due for a walk. With my second cup of coffee in hand, we had Jason reassemble my stroller and we set off to see the train bridge that runs through the neighborhood. There is a train track that you can actually see at the end of our street. We were already melting and I had abandoned my cup of coffee because it was cooler than the air outside. I noticed there was a paved trail that led into the woods.

Ahhhh (cue the angels singing)!

We stumbled upon our new haven, a perfectly shaded running trail that curves right along the Harpeth River. We knew we lived close to it, you can see it driving in but we had no idea it ran in our own backyard! As we got along the trail, I looked back and quickly showed Jackson that you could SEE the river through the trees! We walked along the trail noting all the butterflies and honeysuckle. Oh, the honeysuckle! If I could bottle that scent and post it to my blog for your aromatic sensation, I absolutely would! We also spent some time discussing the enormous potential for snakes, ticks and poison oak! Yes, the good ol' deep south!

The boys stopped in a shady spot for a little honeysuckle snack and as they feasted on the wildflowers I noticed a cicada on a branch and called Jackson over to capture it. He is our universal critter catcher, the boy has no fear. These were not the usual summer cicadas. They had RED eyes, like they were from the devil or something. I called dad to ask about them and he informed me that they were 13 year cicadas. Apparently they last emerged from the ground in 1998. That's the year I graduated HIGH SCHOOL folks! Wow! I learned that the invasion was expected from this local news source. And invasion it was. As I looked further and Jackson collected more, I realized that they were everywhere, millions of them.

Once the nostalgia of the bugs wore off, we continued our trek and came upon a small clearing that went straight down to the river. Joy ensued in Jackson’s eyes as him, me, Lincoln, Roxy and walked down the trail and began walking down the steps to the riverbed. At the bottom we found a flat rock with graded entry to the swollen Harpeth River. It was running swiftly and the water is high due to recent rains. We toured his new fishing mecca and I hear him scream “Bream, bream, I see a bream!” That’s my daddy’s fishing talk coming out. It was muddy, buggy and snakes were not just possible, but imminent and he couldn’t have cared less. He looked at me in all seriousness and said “This place! I dreamed of this place!” Oh my sweet southern boy! He all but RAN back up the rolling hills to our house to tell his dad that he had found the perfect fishing spot, complete with worm rich soil for the digging. I can tell you now, that won’t be the last time we visit our trail down by the river. It will, however, be the last time that I bring my girly, white fluffy dog with us to the muddy trail! Poor Roxy had a sink bath after the muddy experience. She spent the next few hours perched over the floor air conditioner vents.

To sum it up, I have a feeling we’re going to like this place!