Kudzu Ate The Off-ramp: A Brief Visit to Tennessee

View from Roan Mountain

Over the river and through the woods, our Garmin has gone astray....No, seriously, in Roan Mountain State Park, the GPS had us traversing the forest on the other side of the stream instead of the perfectly good road we were actually on. Such is life in east Tennessee, but well worth the effort you put into making it a destination.

My wife and I found ourselves there as a result of a conference she was attending in Knoxville. I had to occupy myself while she was at the gathering, but we took an extra few days together in truly rural east Tennessee afterwards. We can now attest to the legend that is southern hospitality, and are likely to return for further explorations if we can avoid the tourist traps, which are equally legendary, from Gatlinburg to Dollywood.

We arrived by plane on a Sunday, got the rental car, and headed into downtown Knoxville, spending the whole ride trying to find something other than an on-air church service over the radio. Good luck with that. Our trusty GPS guided us to at least two restaurants that were closed, so we finally just parked (for free on weekends) in a big lot and set out on foot. We settled on The Crown & Goose, a well-patronized establishment, practically an institution if you ask around. The hostess greeted us by welcoming us to the restaurant's last day of existence. I wish I were making this up, but it was true. The place was closing to make way for part of some much larger development on the horizon. I think I recall something about a new sports complex and entertainment district, the kind of thing that often signals the death knell for local businesses in favor of chains.

We learned of this by striking up a conversation with another couple, their son and ("hopefully") soon-to-be daughter-in-law. We were all enjoying the warm sun outside while waiting for seating inside because despite the sun it was pretty chilly. You cannot say that about the people, though, as everyone is warm and friendly and will talk to you like they have known you all their lives. This stereotypical aspect of the south is most welcome, and something other regions should strive for. Sure, it was a Sunday, and just about anyone is more laid back on the weekend, but still.

Volunteer Landing, downtown Knoxville

Downtown Knoxville is perhaps not quite as vibrant as some city centers, but you will not go hungry or lack for entertainment, or visual stimulation thanks to the mix of history and architecture and public art. Nothing is overwhelming, and it says great things about the city that they are not prone to overstatement....except for the University of Tennessee. Lots of orange, lots of orange, but I digress. I thought my hometown of Portland, Oregon was clean, but Knoxville, and for that matter every other place we went, may get polished daily. I remember maybe one piece of litter in over a week, and given my tendency to spy trash while looking for birds and other wildlife, that is saying something. Other cities bent on beautification projects should put Knoxville on the "must visit" list.

U.S. Courthouse, downtown Knoxville

It is virtually impossible to find fault with anything in east Tennessee. I mean, I got nothin'. Seriously. You have to have been a long-term resident to have complaints, and they do have complaints, mostly about traffic and construction, and sometimes disrespecting human and natural history in their haste to put up a new housing development or something. Gentrification is an issue everywhere, and apparently the Knoxville area is not immune. Ok, we were there during an election cycle, and politics are ugly there, too, judging from the campaign advertisements.

Farther afield, toward Johnson City and more rural hamlets, you might not be able to get a quorum to reach a consensus of complaints. Unless and until you stop in at a diner, it is easy to imagine that everyone is on their own up in the hills and hollers. Abandoned houses, barns, and outbuildings are quickly overwhelmed by kudzu, and I can only wonder what would happen if you didn't leave your home for a couple of days. Would you still be able to open the front door? No matter, the locals no doubt turn every obstacle and negative event into a running joke. You just get that vibe that there is nothing that can't be overcome with a little ingenuity and a lot of laughter.

Blackberry Blossom Inn, Unicoi

Autumn Scenics

Despite my dislike for fall, you can’t be in New England at this time of year and not go out on a picture-perfect afternoon to admire the foliage. Last Sunday, October 25, was just such a day. I went for a walk in the late afternoon to catch the low sun on the trees and the river, and these images hardly do the landscape justice.

My immediate neighborhood here in South Deerfield, Massachusetts is an odd mix of run-down homes and cul-de-sac spurs with obviously affluent subdivisions. Taking a walk down one such road brought me some spectacular views of North Sugarloaf Mountain, and this estate beneath, complete with a riding arena. There I met Kim, who greeted me on her riding mower as she vacuumed leaves off the steep lawn in front of her family’s house, situated right on the side of the mountain. Her daughter was riding her horse, exercising the equine to help it recover from an injury that kept it out of major shows this year.

Kim is typical of the strangers I’ve met here: Warm and friendly, and eager to share their experiences with the land. By the time we parted I had been invited to their Halloween party this Saturday.

North Sugarloaf is the wilder sister of South Sugarloaf, with a deep “saddle” between the two buttes. The farms that abut the base of both are breathtaking and suggest the quintessential romantic rural life. Blight killed off all the tomatoes this year, and tobacco (yes, tobacco!) was a total loss, too. Life is not as idyllic as it appears on the surface.

South Sugarloaf Mountain is the tourist attraction here. A yet-to-be-released movie starring Mel Gibson had a scene filmed at the top last year, where the observation tower stands. Manicured, clear-cut, and landscaped to offer a panoramic view and picnicking sites, it is decidedly less natural than its northern twin. I find the view looking upslope to be more inspiring than that from the summit, which takes a disappointingly short time to reach, even if you do not drive your car there.

Go around South Sugarloaf and you head downhill to the bridge between South Deerfield and Sunderland, over the mighty Connecticut River. This view looks upstream with Mount Toby in the distance.

The Connecticut is a highly-controlled river, its levels at the mercy of floodgates that this year left the water high most of the time. Only rarely did one see sand bars on the island or any semblance of a shoreline along the heavily-wooded banks. Just beyond the tree-line, however, the land gives way to agriculture. The University of Massachusetts has a large farm devoted to growing turf and sustaining cattle, among other experimental pursuits.

Here is a typical view behind the veil of trees.

The light fades too fast and I find myself wanting to chase the sun. The wind has not yet surrendered, and blows a reminder of wilder ways across the surface of the Connecticut, writing in ripples about seasons yet to come.

Mow to Hell

Remember those foxes living behind my residence that I showed you about a month ago? Fat chance I’ll ever see them again. They are (were?) living at the edge of an enormous vacant area that is the former site of a pickle factory, long since torn down. The weeds, wildflowers, and sapling trees had grown up fairly tall, perhaps owing to the large amounts of rain we’ve been getting here in South Deerfield, Massachusetts. Well, apparently we can’t have any of that. Tonight I discovered that somebody in a tractor (the tracks were evidence of that) mowed the entire area. That act has effectively ruined my after-work life of exploring in these days when the sun lingers until around 8:30 PM.

Citizens of the United States have become entirely too good at destroying urban, suburban (and increasingly, rural) wildlife habitat in the name of cosmetic appearance and liability issues. It is this latter notion that has really gone over the top. God forbid that a mosquito carrying West Nile virus, or a tick harboring Lyme disease should be lurking in the tall grass waiting for some poor soul to walk by. We certainly can’t afford to have a dead tree fall on a parked vehicle, or the roots of a living one buckle the sidewalk where a person could trip and fall. We collectively no longer tolerate risk of any kind from natural sources.

Meanwhile, our culture celebrates stupid risk, be it the stock market, legalized gambling, or extreme sports. Nature must be conquered in eco-challenge reality shows, but the natural world must not be allowed to fight back.

Neighborhood associations and government municipalities are also keen on instituting codes of uniformity for the appearance of yards, gardens, lawns, playground structures, and the exterior of homes and buildings. The result is a sterilization of nature, the introduction of hoards of exotic ornamental plants and their associated insect pests, and the release of who knows how many chemicals into the environment from the application of fertilizers and pesticides.

Weed ordinances provide for stiff penalties if your grass exceeds a certain height, or the clover, daisies, and Queen Anne’s lace compromise the integrity of your lawn. Well, I am here to tell you that one man’s weed is another man’s wildflower. The clover actually benefits your lawn, by the way, by fixing nitrogen and making it available to the grass. As far as I’m concerned, though, the “weeds” are those very lawns, a blight of turf in a land meant for meadows and and glades

I have an idea for a cartoon I want to draw and submit somewhere. It starts with a panel depicting a man sitting on his front porch watching a conflagration in his yard. The next panel shows his neighbor rushing to the fence and screaming “Your lawn is on fire!” In the final panel, the man casually replies “It’s a prairie.” That will be the day my friends.