I’ve been back in the States for nearly equal time to that for which I was abroad (13 months each) and I’m awed that nearly everyday brings fresh reason for reflection. This is my second winter (after escaping two winters in favor of perpetual tropical suns), and I took the day to marvel at a world transformed by the magic of snow, and cold, and ice.
Nashville experiences more deep freezes annually than most would predict for its placement one state solidly below the Mason-Dixon Line. In the burn of consistent summer temperatures of the 90s and 100s, it is impossible to conceive of winters with spending weeks below freezing, much less whitened landscapes. Yet here is the proof.
Once or twice a year we are blanketed in a true winter blanket as the city shudders to a stop–on this occasion at the unique behest of the Mayor himself who called for a citywide snowday: Quiet your cars, take to your neighborhoods. A fitting way to spend the day, stealing away these moments of enforced locality to explore my own habitat. Breaking free from hibernation.
Ever since moving to this neighborhood (Sylvan Park) I’ve wanted to explore the rails and thought there is no better day than today. With trees lying across the tracks, even these steal carriages are quieted.
Scarlett, the rescue hound under my charge, and I took to the rails this morning to wander our way through the back tracks of Sylvan Park, under I-440 interstate and ceased upon entering the fenced lot of resting giants tucked behind Centennial Park. Here are the results: