Month: December 2016

Leiper’s Fork. For anyone who’s been to this little spot on the map in Williamson County, that name will likely bring a smile to your face, with the simultaneous thought, “we should go again”. I have a friend who refers to it as her “happy place in Nashville”, and I couldn’t agree with her more. If flashy and booming is your style, it might not have the same appeal to you; for although it does draw a good crowd, it’s the simplicity and (very) small town, rustic charm that endear it to locals and tourists alike.

If you google Leiper’s Fork, the description that pops up is: “an unincorporated rural village”. Seeing it officially described as a village made me fall in love with it even more. Life just moves at a slower pace in the restaurants, antique shops and art galleries that sit along both sides of the few hundred feet of 46W that make up The Fork. Even when things are “busy” (e.g. if you have to park out past the Dukes of Hazard car on the edge of town, or if the Puckett’s outdoor seating area is full of Harley riders or groups of cyclists resting after a long spin on the nearby Natchez Trace), all still feels peaceful. Being there also feels a bit like a refreshing suspension of routine reality—like no one carries their daily stresses there with them, but rather just intentionally enjoys the friendly faces, the aromas of Southern cuisine, and the chance to stroll or sit while having an unhurried conversation. I realized I’ve never noticed speed limit signs at the edge of town (even though I’m sure they’re there); so it’s interesting to me that the traffic just automatically comes to a slow crawl as it approaches and drives through—it is pedestrian friendly which slows drivers down, but, as over-sentimental as it may sound, I swear there almost seems to be a sense of paying respect to a preservation of what we need life to be sometimes: uncomplicated, contented and carefree.

On out past Leiper’s Fork about 15 minutes is a small community called Santa Fe where my dad owned several acres with a pond and a dilapidated barn on it all during my growing up years. My dream as a child was to live out in the country, so I incessantly begged my parents to build a house on the land. Even though we never did build on the property, we would often go out there for picnics or to buy sweet treats at the old country store close by (which was next to a little white church and a community center). Those 3 buildings joined by a gravel road, nestled below rolling hills, and set back from a bubbling creek, are to this day my favorite place on earth. So, countless times over the years, on a blue-sky, sunny day, I have gotten up early, stopped for a coffee, rolled down the windows, turned up the music, and made the drive from wherever I’m living in Nashville, down Old Hillsboro Rd, through Leiper’s Fork, and on out towards Santa Fe. Sometimes I’ll sit at the picnic table by the creek and read and soak in the stillness and beauty; or, if time is short, I’ll turn around and head right back home. The joy for me is as much in the journey; the time to think and pray and sing on that length of road through the picturesque countryside delights and renews my soul. So although I’ve driven through Leiper’s Fork more often than I’ve actually stopped there, it is still a big piece of the puzzle of my most cherished stretch of Tennessee geography.

So if you’ve somehow never made it to Leiper’s, I highly recommend a cheeseburger from Puckett’s–I enjoy it best on a Saturday from 12-2pm with live music (and if you have a hearty appetite, start earlier with breakfast across the street at The Country Boy). Try to make it too to a live concert at the Lawnchair Theater (cozy, outdoor venue with white lights strung above the small grass seating area), or to the bustling Chili Cookoff in October. Regardless of what is or isn’t going on when you make it there, I promise you will still experience the essence of what keeps drawing us all back; and then you’ll find yourself wanting to go back too. 🙂

My love for Nashville extends beyond its city limits to the surrounding parts of Middle Tennessee. This mid-state region seems to be undisputedly equated with natural beauty. State Park signs appear to be almost as plenteous as the blue, metal food and gas signs at each exit for any interstate leaving Nashville. There is hiking, camping and sightseeing abundantly available for the outdoor lover. Although I have vivid memories as a child on family hikes where I was always bringing up the rear and slowing down my somewhat impatient, faster-paced siblings, I nonetheless learned to love being on trails in nature. I keep a faster pace now, but still intentionally slow myself down enough to take in the grandeur around me.

I was never picky about where I hiked as long as I was outside. But then I visited Burgess Falls last year (in Sparta) and fell in love with waterfalls! Reaching the falls felt equivalent to earning a prize at the end of a strenuous climb (or descent). In the secluded serenity of the cascading water, I almost could have imagined myself being in Hawaii (admittedly maybe only because I’ve never actually been there!), but was still amazed I was only a little over an hour from my front door. Later in the year I went to the falls at Rock Island State Park, and suddenly found myself setting a goal to see all the falls within (reasonable :))  driving distance of home.

So now I have checked Foster, Cummins, Greeter, Ozone, Rutledge, Cane Creek and Fall Creek Falls off the list. Still need to make it to Virgin Falls (and likely another one or two I may not know about yet!). A scenic drive, a picnic lunch, meeting a friend, and you have the makings of a perfect day. (Be prepared with a swimsuit too during warmer months—most have great swimming holes!)

I have occasionally hiked solo, and realized on my last venture out that I love the camaraderie that exists on the rocky trails going to or from the destination. I’ve always felt on my daily walks, (be it in a neighborhood, on a greenway, etc), that if you pass someone who is obviously in the same moment in history, at the same physical location, and participating in the same activity, that there should be a mutual acknowledgement of, and salutation to, the other individual. But that doesn’t seem to be a commonly held belief in the general world of routine exercisers. Yet on a cumbersome incline, with little breath to spare, the overwhelming majority of hikers seem happy to offer a smile, hello, or a word of encouragement to those who are losing stamina, or who need to ask, “are we almost there?” or, “which way is best?”

I always leave a hike marveling at the beauty that God created seemingly just for our sheer enjoyment. But I honestly also leave feeling more benevolence for the human race overall! Crazy as it sounds, when you can greet and encourage, or are greeted and encouraged by, that many strangers in a day, you can’t help but feel like a person who just generally loves people. Maybe it’s the endorphins that naturally flow from exercising, or maybe it’s that the simplest offering of a smile and a kind word, offered and received repeatedly over the varying distances of a loop trail, can leave your weary body with a full heart. 🙂

Having grown up in and near Nashville, I remember years back when Nolensville Road felt out of place to me in my otherwise familiar hometown. Or maybe it was more that I felt out of place because there wasn’t anything comfortingly predictable, like a Starbucks, in the midst of the international markets. But now every time I drive down it on my way to or from work, it serves as a reminder to me of how time and experience can completely change your perspective.

I first traveled internationally with my church youth group to Mexico at age 16. I was trying to use my few words of high school Spanish to help guide several lively and giggling little ones to complete their coloring page project. The joy I felt in using even the most elementary level of a different language to communicate with those beautiful children, wakened within me a determination to pursue proficiency in speaking Spanish. That trip was also my first taste of realizing the beauty of different: when a culture different from my own started to feel a little less unfamiliar.

Over the course of the next several years, I traveled on several short-term mission trips back to Mexico, to Honduras, Belize, Turkey, the Ukraine, Romania, Kenya, and India. The longest I stayed anywhere was a year and a half in Peru; and that’s where I finally realized my dream of studying and learning Spanish. With each country visited, with each person I met and quickly learned to love, and with each new flavor I tasted, there began to be less and less that felt foreign to me. My heart expanded significantly past the borders of Nashville, and it began to hold dear the grand design of how each culture uniquely reflects the beautiful creativity of its Grand Designer.

So now, driving down Nolensville Road feels familiar to me. I crave ethnic foods and appreciate that I can easily pick up Indian, Ethiopian, Persian, Korean or Thai carry out on the way home after a busy day at work. I love the convenience of getting authentic tacos from a variety of food trucks, and of occasionally treating myself to freshly fried papusas from a Papuseria (must try these if you haven’t!). I’m grateful I can buy a liter of drinkable yogurt, just like I got in Peru, at K & S World Market. (And I can tell you right where to go if you need a piñata or want a tres leches cake for a birthday party). My weekly staple is a white food truck parked in front of Cricket, just south of Haywood Ln (Michoacanos). My personal favorite and recommendation is their iced coffee—similar to a frapuccino, but it tastes just like the granitas I loved in Honduras. They also have freshly cut fruit combos (with or without chili powder on top), smoothies, rice pudding, and, I’m told, the best flan in Nashville. You can just point to what you want on the menu, and really only need to be prepared to say “gracias” and “delicioso”. 🙂