Author: iloveallyallnashville

A sunny, blue-sky day with billowy clouds, a lazy river, and a group of friends where nobody was in a rush to be anywhere else, all made for the perfect summer afternoon. Although I’ve been canoeing and white-water rafting a couple times previously, I’d been wanting to experience kayaking down one of our Middle Tennessee rivers. Last year plans to go had fallen through twice, once because the water was too high, and once because it was too low. But last month, all the conditions lined up for a picturesque day of floating and boating.

A group of about 15 of us, consisting of old friends and new, of novices and of seasoned kayakers, set out to traverse a few miles of The Harpeth River. I opted for a single kayak, although somewhat questioning the adequacy of my upper body strength to complete the journey without a second set of arms for back up! But I was pleasantly surprised by the gentle current that carried us all along with surprisingly little effort on our part other than minimal steering or the occasional stopping to dock on a rocky beach. The intermittent stops allowed time to reapply sunscreen, and to grab a snack or a cold drink while catching up and chatting with others in the group who may have been keeping a slower or faster pace in the water.

There are several canoe rental places out I-40W, but we used Foggy Bottom and they were great. $29 provides the kayak rental with life jacket and paddle, and a ride to the drop-in site (and then you end up docking in by your cars at the end of the trek). Honestly it’s easily $29 of the best-spent dollars of my summer! (Canoe rates range from $36-$39 depending on the length of the trip chosen). Wait for a beautiful day, and spontaneously call a friend or a few, and enjoy an ideal way to be in the great Tennessee outdoors. A mini-cooler with your favorite beverages is a must (it can be easily strapped in the back of your kayak, making for easy accessibility while lazily floating). Grab something to munch on too, your SPF of choice, water-proof speakers if you have them for listening to your favorite tunes, and a towel for the ride home, and you’re quickly and easily out your door and ready to go!

There are those I’m sure who prefer the thrill of navigating through rapids on a raft, but for me, the peaceful ride down the Harpeth was the perfect balance of time to be reflective while surrounded by the beauty of nature, and of fun time with friends, all genuinely happy to be outside and active. And if you’ve managed to work up an appetite after you’re done, take a short 8 mile drive down Highway 70 to a local favorite, Carl’s Perfect Pig Barbeque & Grill–the food is delicious and the hospitality is refreshingly Southern. 🙂

Melanie wasn’t always homeless. She lived with her feeble grandmother across the street from the upstairs apartment I rented in the Glencliff neighborhood. I first met her when she walked up my gravel driveway to introduce herself. She was heavy-set, with a somewhat disheveled and impoverished appearance, but had a kindhearted manner to her. After a short, somewhat socially-awkward introduction, she promptly asked me for money to supposedly buy her grandmother’s prescription medication. I offered to go buy it at the pharmacy as opposed to giving her the money, but she fumbled through reasons to decline that offer; and since I was rushing off somewhere anyways, I handed over some cash. I felt upset with myself later for giving in to a scam—afraid I’d set a precedent for future asking and for potentially difficult refusals. That was indeed the first in a long line of Melanie-encounters, most of which involved a request for money, but little did I know that she would also become a friend to me over the next 6 years to come.

I’d often see her out in their front yard when I went for my morning or afternoon walks and would stop and talk. She had 3 daughters that were each in foster care and were the delight of Melanie’s life. Her face lit up as she would talk about them and she always asked me to pray for them. She would also drop by at my apartment from time to time, and although I had to ask her not to knock on my door at late or early hours, it still managed to make me jump each time I heard the tap, tap on my glass door regardless of the hour. (I lived at the top of a rusty flight of stairs along the side of the brick home—not a door that salesmen or Jehovah’s Witnesses would even notice to come to. So although I presumed it was Melanie each time, I still startled easily living alone). On her birthday that first year, I left her cupcakes and a card on her front porch and her genuine joy from that simple gesture was almost childlike.

Then her grandmother passed away and Melanie’s grief was palpable. It seemed her grandmother was the one family member who hadn’t given up on loving her. Melanie lost someone she dearly loved, but even more tragically it seemed, she lost the one person who loved her back. After the estate was settled, and the house sold, Melanie found herself with no place to live. Her only possessions seemed to be a few clothes, photos of her girls, and a cherished locket necklace with her grandmother’s ashes in it. She had told me stories of being estranged from her mom and siblings and other relatives. It seemed a hard past with abuse and mental illness had left her with a loving heart, but with an inability to hold a job or to make wise decisions that would get her ahead in life. Her visits to my house increased in frequency and needs after finding herself without a home. But she always came with a smile and a naturally grateful attitude for any small amount of dollars, food or coffee given. Sometimes I would say no—I had no cash or it seemed too close to the last time I’d given her some; and she always graciously accepted no too. She might try to push if she really felt she needed it, but she ultimately accepted no with a smile as she walked away. She once told me she thought she was pregnant and asked if I’d be willing to take the baby, knowing that the State wouldn’t let her keep it. I told her that was a big decision and we should both pray about it, but the pregnancy apparently ended up being a false alarm.

The next few years Melanie was in and out of shelters, or occasionally rented a room for a few dollars a night, or slept on the streets. She had a car a couple of times that she slept in, but was unable to afford the maintenance and upkeep for them; and one got infested with bedbugs, leaving her sun-scorched skin covered with infected bites. She had medical insurance that covered her when she got sick, or if she got off balance with her psychiatric meds. She had a case manager that was trying to help her get into permanent housing. But the odds just seemed stacked against this poor soul. (I had moved to a different neighborhood by that point and chose not to give her my new address; and bless her sweet heart, she respected that boundary and never asked me for it). She rarely had her own phone, but I used to suppose she had my phone number tattooed somewhere on her body, because she borrowed multiple phones across Nashville to call me. Sometimes she was in crisis mode and I couldn’t always respond. Sometimes she needed gloves or a coat or some new shoes and dry socks (her size men’s 11W was difficult to find sometimes, but thankfully Walmart usually carried Dr Scholl’s in that size!). Sometimes I think she just wanted a hug and someone to pray for her and her girls, and to just remember that someone knew her name.

For her inability to make wise decisions, she still had a very real faith and would often quote Scriptures and remind me of Spiritual truths that seemed timely and divinely inspired to encourage me. She often told me she was praying for my future husband and that I would be able to adopt one day—she seemed to want that for me even more than I did for myself :)). She often asked about updates about guys I was dating. I always thought that if I did get married, I would invite her to my wedding, seated at a place of honor (with an opportunity to get a new dress and her hair fixed beforehand if she wanted to :)).

Once I didn’t hear anything from her for about 3 months; since there was no way for me to find her, I just continued praying for her and hoping she was ok. Then one day I drove past her on Haywood Lane holding up a sign asking for help. I stopped and hugged her and took her to get some dinner (she had lost her current phone and had actually forgotten my number, but she quickly re-memorized it :)). I often struggled with guilt in my friendship with her; the depths of her needs were beyond my ability to fulfill, and yet I often wondered if there was more I should be doing. It was easy in reality to hand her $10 or $20, a hot fast-food meal, to say a quick prayer with her and be on my way. It didn’t inconvenience me much. But I often found myself wondering if I should help her find odd jobs, apart from just selling The Contributor papers, or if there was a way to get her into a garage apartment. Last year she was somehow part of an altercation and almost lost one of her legs. I visited her in the hospital, which she wanted to leave AMA (against medical advice) since they wouldn’t let her smoke (one of her few joys in life). After being discharged, she went for wound changes at a local clinic, but I’m not sure the wound truly ever healed well.

I can’t recall for sure the last time I saw Melanie. I believe it was in the Circle K parking lot off Nolensville and 440 late last summer. I believe I took her some cash and food, and said a prayer with her, with hands held and heads bowed as the busy traffic rushed by. And then I was probably on my way, telling her to call if she needed anything. Several weeks went by and I didn’t hear from her. I had size 11W winter boots on my shopping list as the months got colder, knowing full well she’d be calling me for them soon. But the cold months came and went and I never heard from her. I prayed for her. I assumed I’d hear eventually or maybe see her on a street corner somewhere. But as time passed with no word, a friend recommended I check the obituaries. So last month I looked and quickly found hers through a Google search. Hit and killed by a car on Nolensville Rd in August of last year. My heart felt heavy as I walked into work that morning. I wish I had known so I could have attended her funeral. I wish I could have told her goodbye. I wish now that I had sat down and shared meals with her instead of just delivering them to her. I miss her toothless smile and her relentless courage to face each new day with none of the luxuries of life that I routinely enjoy.

But I know she had a trusting faith in Jesus. And I know that she’s not suffering anymore. Her wounds are healed, her mind is sound, her needs are met, her bed is soft and warm; she is safe from all harm. Now she can watch from above and see her precious daughters as they grow. Her joy is complete, and she knows no more sorrow. She now has a home, and she is home. I am grateful that God let me know her; and one day Melanie, I’ll see you again 🙂

I’ll confess there are no teams that I regularly follow, professional or collegiate. The die-hard faithfulness of friends and family I know whose blood flows orange or crimson somewhat eludes me. But, put me in a sports venue for a live event with masses cheering, and I am suddenly a fan. Not that I’m a fair-weather fan, I’m just a “caught up in the excitement and the thrill of the game and the love of the camaraderie of supportive crowds eager for a show of rivaling skill and talent” kind of fan. 🙂

I’ve always loved sports movies. Since I was a little girl, something about the powerful story of lives transformed through the discipline of a firm but loving coach, the touching human element of life circumstances changing for the better through the work done on the field, the unity that comes through striving towards and fighting for a common goal, and the elation of victory or the humble acceptance of defeat—all of these aspects and more make for the best of movies to me. Hoosiers, Remember the Titans, and Goal! will forever be some of my absolute favorites.

I played basketball for a very small Christian school in high school. I was the oldest on the team and the games were of little importance in the eyes of anyone other than our parents. And yet, my coach taught me a love of the game; and I experienced first-hand how the personal joy of winning can feel as elating with a handful of friends and a few adoring family members in the stands as it would (I think at least?) with thousands of paying ticket holders. In the moment, the realistic significance of the win (or lack thereof), or the number of seats filled or empty, seem of little importance. It’s just a fantastic feeling to practice, to do your best, and to have it all pay off with a win. To this day, one of my favorite pastimes is to just go outside and shoot a few hoops or to play a good game of Gotcha with friends.

So for those of you who know that I can’t name specific players or coaches or stats (or often even the rules!), it may still surprise you that I absolutely love a good live sporting event (most especially when the weather is glorious). On a sunny day with every row packed at Nissan Stadium (no matter how annoying the Raiders fans may be! :)), it is delightfully fun to sing along with the National Anthem and then to scream for our men in blue. And long before they made the Stanley Cup Playoffs, a night at Bridgestone with the Preds left you smiling the whole time and wanting to come back for more. And on a balmy summer evening, I personally feel there is no better spot in Nashville than at the new Sounds Stadium, First Tennessee Park—get a beer or a hotdog or soft serve in a plastic baseball cap and root for the home team.

I’m curious to see what it will be like to have the new soccer team come to Music City—but that’s one of the things I like most about our hometown—we always make room for more—in our geography and in our hearts. 🙂

Most Nashvillians have probably seen the billboards along the interstate advertising the new Johnny Cash Museum & Café on 3^rd Ave. downtown, but few have likely yet heard of The Storytellers Museum and Hideaway Farm in Bon Aqua, TN. A short drive outside of the city limits down 1-40 West sits an old restored general store that once served as a small-town concert stage for Johnny Cash. The store was later sold and used as a recording studio, but then fell into disrepair until it was recently re-discovered and painstakingly restored by its new owner–an ardent and loyal Cash fan.

The small museum primarily houses memorabilia of Johnny Cash, but also has pieces commemorating Elvis Presley and other country music artists. The legendary “One Piece At a Time” car, which was crafted with a hodgepodge of original Cadillac parts that span a production period of approximately 25 years (and is sung about in Cash’s song by the same title) is on display, and is accessible for photo ops inside the cab. The museum tour begins by watching two short videos, one of which details the restoration of the museum with old reel footage of Cash inside the building. The second video tells the story of salvaging the home of Colonel Tom Parker, the late and great manager of the King of Rock and Roll; this home was local in Madison, Tennessee, and is where Elvis spent much of his time, making the house itself a piece of musical history worthy of preservation. Many pieces from the home and grounds were carefully used to create a beautiful outdoor space with a park-type atmosphere located behind the museum. After watching the videos, you will have time to explore the mementos and to take pictures and will also get to enjoy a 20-30 minute live concert from local talent! The rotation of performing artists actually includes Johnny Cash’s grandson and nephew, among others.

Also included in the price of admission is entry to the farmhouse (built before the Civil War) that was owned and loved by Johnny Cash for over 30 years. The log home, which sits about a mile down the road from the museum, was known as his retreat away, where he could rest and “live the life of a country boy”, among the beautiful, quiet, rolling hills of Hickman County. On the grounds of the farmhouse is a long, open-air garage housing a collection of old cars once owned by Johnny. Being within the walls where this iconic musician both played and lived gives a sense of nostalgia that pictures and artifacts alone cannot provide.

The museum also currently serves as a live music venue and hosts concerts on Saturday nights, replicating in a sense the weekend guitar pulls known as “Saturday Night at Hickman County”, when the Man in Black himself once played there with friends. (Thomas Gabriel, Cash’s grandson will perform the first concert of 2018 on Jan 20, from 7-8:30pm).

Winter hours for the museum are Fridays and Saturdays, opening at 10am, with last entry at 2pm (see storytellersmuseum.com for more details). In a city where most of the country music history and fan-based tours are located in the busy heart of the hectic downtown, you’ll very likely enjoy this opportunity to drive out to the beautiful, open outdoors for a classically country music-lover’s experience.

Centennial Park, one of Nashville’s best-loved outdoor gathering localities, was given its name back in 1897 after it hosted the Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition. (Before being chosen as the site for the Exposition, the 132 acres we now enjoy as Centennial Park had previously been the State Fairgrounds and then later became a racetrack known as West Side Park). The Exposition was planned as a celebration of Tennessee’s 100th anniversary of becoming a state (although the cost and work of the preparations for the fair caused it to open a year late!), and it drew in close to 2 million visitors over the 6 months it was up and running. There were multiple temporary buildings erected for the celebration, including a large Egyptian pyramid, re-created Chinese and Cuban villages, a see-saw ride over 200 feet tall, a man-made lake for gondola rides, and the full-scale replica of the Greek Parthenon.

The Parthenon was originally built of only wood and plaster and was not intended to stand for long after the festivities ended. But Nashville fell in love with this architectural treasure, feeling it proudly symbolized the city’s reputation for being known as the “Athens of the South” (a term that was earned in large part due to a focus on higher education). So from 1921 to 1931, The Parthenon was reconstructed with concrete as a permanent structure. This Music City landmark houses one of Nashville’s fine art museums, featuring 19th and 20th century American artists and other visiting temporary exhibits (open Tues.-Sat, 9am-4:30pm, and Sun. 12:30-4:30pm; $6 admission for adults and $4 for children and seniors).

In addition to the playgrounds, manicured gardens and walking trails surrounding the Parthenon, the park is also widely known and loved for its emphasis on cultural and arts festivals. It annually hosts “Celebrate Nashville Cultural Festival” in the fall, which showcases the beautiful diversity our metropolis is fortunate to enjoy with the numerous countries represented within our city limits. “Shakespeare in the Park” is held in late summer months at the park’s open-air bandshell, giving top-notch performances and high-quality entertainment—a must-see live theater experience on a starry night! Last month I made it out with some friends on a beautiful autumn day to the Centennial Craft Fest; it was a perfect afternoon of a vast array of artisan vendors selling their handiwork, excellent live music, and tasty options of fall treats from a variety of food trucks (I had the pumpkin ice cream from Jeni’s and old-fashioned Kettle Corn—both delicious!). Next year I plan to make it out to the “Musician’s Corner Acoustic Nights”—free outdoor concerts from local talent held weekly, May-June.

If you’ve not yet found yourself at one of the park’s various festivals, mark your calendars for Music City Winterfest on December 9, 2017 (from 10am-4pm). This free event will host over 100 artisan booths ideal for Christmas shopping, live music, activities for the kids, photos with Santa, food and holiday beverages, a S’mores station and even a beard contest!

Although Nashville will always be best known for our musical emphasis, it can’t be denied that having the only full scale replica in the world of the ancient Greek Parthenon adds an intriguing something extra to our city’s sundry resume. 🙂

I first experienced Disney World as an adult; and although I hate to confess that I wasn’t a fan of the parks in general, I loved Epcot. The feel of being in other countries and experiencing, even in a minuscule version, the sights and sounds and tastes of lands far away delighted the wanderlust part of my heart. In similar fashion, Plaza Mariachi Music City, a new addition to Nashville, is a beautifully designed celebration of Latin American culture under one large roof. Just a walk through the 85,000 square feet of architecturally detailed space will give a sense of being in a traditional Mexican marketplace; and there are plenty of foods and drinks, music and entertainment to fully round out the international experience!

Starting in the parking lot, the fountains and benches set within pristine landscaping  provide a welcoming invitation before you even make it in the doors. Once inside, you’ll enter the spacious, main dining plaza with the live entertainment stage. From there you’ll want to explore the “calles” and discover the different street vendor shops ranging from Latin gifts and décor to mobile phones and law offices, an art gallery, boutiques, and even an arcade for the kids. But the main draw for me is the vast array of delicious ethnic foods, beverages and desserts they offer! There are quick lunch options including tacos, Mexican street corn, ceviche, Spanish tapas and pizzas, and sit-down options of an Argentinian steakhouse and Cuban dining. Or you can just grab a paleta, sorbet, or a warm sugar-covered churro for a quick sweet treat. My favorite mid-day pick-me-up is the Horchata Latte from Madera Café, a modern café serving gourmet coffees.

The MazFresco grocery store attached to the plaza has the quality and charm that give the feel of being in a mini Hispanic Whole Foods! They offer freshly baked pan dulces (sweet breads), and tres leches cakes, typical spices and products from Central and South America, a beautiful assortment of colorful fruits and vegetables, and Mexican beers. Their very reasonably-priced hot deli features carne asada, Barbacoa and other succulently prepared meats, beans, and rice all cooked on site, served with homemade tortillas and fresh salsas.

Whatever you choose to eat, you’ll have to sit a spell in the main plaza and enjoy the entertainment of the day—from very talented Latin singers to acrobat acts to Mariachi bands to salsa dancing (free lessons on Thursday nights!). You will experience the quality of performers we’ve all come to expect in Nashville, albeit with a Latin flare. 🙂

The Bluebird—for the rest of the country, these two words likely conjure up the image of a literal blue bird. But for the majority of Nashvillians and country music patrons, they bring to mind a small, awning-covered cafe, tucked obscurely into a strip mall in the heart of the high-end shopping district of Green Hills. It may be the smallest of Nashville’s famous music venues (it only seats 90 among its 20 tables of varying sizes, a few old church pews and handful of bar stools), but it seems the limited access and the challenge of securing tickets have actually contributed to its popularity over time.

While most of the stages in Music City spotlight the artists, The Bluebird exists to showcase the writers of the songs themselves. The restaurant opened in 1982 and within a few years’ time was featuring singer-songwriter performances of up-and-coming artists looking for a platform to share their talent. So, apart from those in the know, or those behind the scenes of the music world, most of the performers aren’t household names; but each is incredibly gifted and worthy of a moment to shine and to be recognized for their musical creations. However, there are now several well-known musicians who credit being discovered there; so one never knows who could be heard tonight in the intimate café setting and then a few years later will be playing a sold out arena! And though I imagine that to some degree they all have dreams of performing for large crowds of fans, by and large it has been my experience that true musicians are genuinely content to play for an engaged, appreciative audience, regardless of the size.

I had been with friends to a show a few years back, but recently decided it was time to visit again. Since the TV show Nashville came on the air in 2012 scripting the Bluebird into its storyline over its five seasons, the demand for tickets has made the online reservation process more difficult (see website for details). So, on a weekday afternoon off work, I went and started the “wait and see” line at 4pm for a 6pm show. There were easily 20-25 people that gathered in the following hour, each hopeful for a seat (the website indicates they allow 10-12 in on a first come basis for the earlier shows, but it seemed to me that more lucky souls made it in that particular night). The wait was warm in the afternoon Tennessee sun, but the show that evening was worth every minute of it! I met people from multiple states and an international couple and enjoyed pre-show dinner conversation with everyone seated at our small table. During the show, there is a quiet policy requesting low voices and minimal talking due to the intimate living room style set-up. As the performers take turns “in the round” style, it seems that each balances the vulnerability of sitting with just his/her voice and a stringed instrument, with a gratefulness for the captive listeners willing and wanting to hear the songs they have penned.

Perhaps I’m more inclined than some to have an ear for country and bluegrass music, but I realized again that night that there is something that just comes alive in me when I hear the strum of a skilled guitarist singing an acoustic masterpiece, authentically Nashville-style. 🙂

Although I’ve never considered myself a history buff, I still appreciate the preservation of our past—for better or for worse, it provides pieces of the puzzle that have contributed to the bigger, modern-day picture of who we are today. And wanting to take advantage of an historical landmark just a few miles from my home in Donelson, I recently visited The Hermitage, the home of our seventh president, Andrew Jackson (who, interestingly, was the last president to have personally known all of his former presidential predecessors).

I had seen the mansion at a distance at last year’s Fall Festival (a weekend event of artisans, live music and food trucks, benefitting The Hermitage; Fall Fest 2017 is coming up again soon (Sept 30-Oct 1), but had not yet toured inside, or seen the full scope of the beautiful grounds surrounding the home. So I went with my parents to the summer’s final “Pinot with the President”—a special evening held after normal business hours that provides wine and hors d’oeuvres and the opportunity to leisurely tour the cabins, gardens and mansion at your own pace. And there were expertly-knowledgeable guides stationed at the different sites to share historical stories of centuries gone by—accurately portraying what seems to be in all of us—goodness marred by the flaws of humanity and the sins of their current era; stories that share the impact of it all and the lessons we can learn and carry forward from them.

On a clear, late summer afternoon with the sun beginning to set and the temperature sitting comfortably in the 70’s, the weather lent itself perfectly to a mostly outdoor event, to fully enjoy the well-manicured garden, the mature trees and acres of rolling fields that give the feel of being hours from the city! The Hermitage estate was sold to the state of Tennessee in the 1850’s, and has been pristinely maintained; the mansion had been in the Jackson family until its sale, so most of the furnishings inside are original to when the president and his family lived there (another factoid I found interesting: Pres. Jackson and his wife Rachel never had children of their own, but adopted two sons, one was their nephew, and the other was a Native American baby who died of tuberculosis at age 16).

Pinot with the President is a once a month summer event that you can look for in 2018; but regular tours are available daily (thehermitage.com). It’s a short drive from the city and is a great way to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors of Middle Tennessee while also procuring a history lesson outside of the classroom 🙂

I imagine that at some point we have all candidly declared what we claim to be our favorite spot on God’s green earth. Be it a once-visited, dream-vacation destination; a frequently-visited, familiar beach in the summertime; a mountain peak finally reached after a tenacious climb; or a grandparent’s home filled with happy childhood memories. In theory, we get to choose our best-loved corner of the world, but in reality, I feel that mine chose me.

Before my parents married, my dad purchased some land in Santa Fe, Tennessee, (generally speaking, it’s a little town tucked between Columbia and Franklin). Growing up, we’d often pack a picnic and drive out to the farm and skip rocks on the pond while talking and dreaming about possibly building a house there one day. To wrap up our outing, we’d typically drive a few minutes down the road for some sweet treats in Bethel, a community comprised of a country store, a community center and a small church, all nestled in a beautiful cove within the “greater” Santa Fe district.

As the pace of life and the growth of Nashville have steadily increased over time, Bethel has maintained a sense of stillness and tranquility that has consistently drawn me back there through the years. From seeing a horse-drawn wagon tethered up outside, to hearing bell-chimed hymns from the church, to the calming gurgling of the creek, to the singing of the multitude of birds that fill the surrounding trees, everything about being there symbolizes peace to me. I literally couldn’t count the number of times I’ve driven on a sunny morning to Bethel, down Old Hillsboro Rd, through Leiper’s Fork, with a cup of Starbucks and listening to my favorite music, just to sit at the picnic table and read or journal. It’s honestly what I remember feeling most homesick for during my time living in South America several years back.

Although the country store/restaurant has changed owners and names over the years (it is now Nett’s Country Store and can be found on Facebook with many a tempting photo of homemade pies!), it has faithfully always offered a truly delicious cheeseburger. 🙂 The red-tin roofed and white-washed, wood-sided building and its creaky front porch, with its natural backdrop of green rolling hills, offers an inviting welcome to hungry locals or to those just out for a drive in the country. On Sundays they serve a Southern meat and three buffet from 11a-2p; they also have catfish Fridays and host Bingo and karaoke nights. And one day I’m going to finally make it out to Bethel’s annual fish fry!

I suppose the places we call our favorites are inevitably where our souls feel renewed—where we seem to feel God’s presence most tangibly—those places that reflect beauty and serenity in ways that provide us with at least a small glimpse of the eternity set in our hearts.

If you’ve never been, or if it’s just been a while since you were there, I highly encourage a visit to Arrington Vineyards. The grounds epitomize the beauty of Middle Tennessee and yet capture the feel of wine country in California (at least of the photos I’ve seen ;).  Although a clear forecast and temperate weather will greatly enhance the overall experience, the rolling hills with expansive views, the bright, cascading foliage of the grapevines, the pristine landscaping and attention to detail, and of course the award winning wines (!), will, I believe, cause everyone to leave with a smile, regardless of the climate.

The first time I went was a few years back with several sweet friends; we gathered around the picnic table with a smorgasbord of savory eats. In the midst of laughter and fellowship, a huge full moon crested the night sky and made for an admittedly magical night. The times since have never failed to provide a glorious sunset, possibly biasing my love for the vineyards! But for anyone who delights in being outdoors with a group of good friends and who enjoys packing a basket of favorite foods to complement your favorite blends of vino, check your weather app and plan an evening soon to head a few miles south of Franklin to Arrington, Tennessee.

Every Saturday and Sunday in the months of April through October, AV offers a free event called “Music in The Vines”. Jazz lovers can enjoy the live bands in the courtyard tent by the tasting lodge, and those of us who prefer Bluegrass can hear fiddles and banjos in the quintessential, farm-style, red Grand Barn. Pack a blanket or lawn chair, grab dinner on the way (my personal go-to is the cranberry chicken salad and homemade rolls from the Amish Feed Mill—it’s en route if you can add 5-10 minutes to take the more scenic drive through Nolensville), and get ready to tap your toes while sharing a bottle of bubbly. (As a side note, entrance and parking are free—they only ask that you not bring in any outside alcohol. You can purchase a wine tasting–although there is usually a wait for the tasting options–or you can just purchase a bottle of your choice, an average of $18-25/bottle.)

Arrington Vineyards celebrated 10 years this month and has steadily and honorably earned its title as “Nashville’s Wine Country” over its decade of wine making. So pack up the kids, call up a friend, or just grab a good book, and enjoy one of Nashville’s truest treasures.