Not Quite Straight and Narrow

I love road trips.  There I've admitted it.  For all that I argue that flying is better and more efficient, and certainly preferable if I'm just going to zoom there and zoom back, a road trip, especially if there is time to stop and rest, perhaps meander a bit is a joy.  Although a road trip with good company is a treat, I have only recently learned that solo road-tripping can be equally enjoyable, if different.

Saturday morning I took off for Texas, not as early as I had hoped, but then Thursday and Friday had been busy and I was exhausted Friday evening.  I had easily realized that I had the choice of packing or attending a concert and, of course I opted for the concert. I had everything washed and sorted and ready to go, so the actual packing didn't really take that long on Saturday, and I was out the door by 9:30.

The first part of my drive, through the mountains toward Nashville was absolutely beautiful.  I didn't really take any detours from the Interstate, but traffic was fairly light, and the sky was softly gray, with layers of light and texture that hinted at light without really revealing it.  It was a sky that promised rain to come, but it was also a sky of mystery and potential, not really a sky of threat, a sky that said yes, but not yet. 

And of course, the trees were glorious, with reds ranging from shockingly electric to rich muted maroons, and a range of yellows and oranges that wove a gorgeous tapestry of fall color.  I love fall anyway, and the leaf season always takes my breath away, especially on a cloudy day. I love the way the softened light brings a depth and richness to the color, and reminds me that this may be an end, but more importantly it is a dénouement, and a glorious preparation for rest and regeneration.  Perhaps I love fall because I don't really distinguish between beginnings and endings.  Each end is a beginning, and each beginning is the end of something. We all need rest and rebirth.

I rolled into Nashville happy to be heading south to Textile Fabrics as I40 was closed ahead and I'd have to detour anyway.  I had no trouble finding the store, and they have a very nice selection.  I arrived just in time for a cake walk, in which I did not participate, as I can't eat cake anyway.  But I did take time to peruse the store and yes, some fabric came home with me despite the overabundance of fabric waiting at home.   I found three pieces of linen in various shades of greens and greenish blues which will be perfect for my summer wardrobe.  Even though it is not linen season now, such time will come again, and there is actually little linen in my wall of fabrics, transplants from New York that most of them are.  I also picked up a pretty pinkish coral piece, which you can just see peeking out at the bottom of the stack.

Leaving the store I asked for lunch recommendations and headed off, only to find myself caught up in some kind of bottleneck for some event that was going on at the fairgrounds.  I kept getting stopped and turned away, and the GPS on my car kept telling me to take routes that only proved to lead deeper into the knot of people and cars.  I eventually wended my way out and found myself in a deeply Hispanic neighborhood.  There was a restaurant packed with cars overflowing the lot, another, albeit smaller, tangle of vehicles, and thought it might be a good spot for lunch, so I stopped.   The place was filled with an interesting mix of laborers and families and I was the only gringa in the place, which bothered me not a whit.    I had a plate of tender flavorful carnitas with soft freshly made corn tortillas, and a salad of nopalitas, sitting contentedly watching small children play around me.  It may not have been the most adventurous meal, but it was delicious nonetheless, and I left sated and ready to hit the road.

The colors changed west of Nashville, mostly yellow with very few oranges and reds.  In fact the few reds stood out in sharp contrast to the myriad shades ranging from an almost acid yellow-green to school-bus yellow, to varying depths and shades of ochre.  Also the further west I traveled, the more brown crept into the landscape and the more bare trees I saw scattered among the yellow leaves.  I am not sure that I had ever driven west at this time of year, or if I had, I had not noticed the change in the leaf season from east to west.

I stopped somewhere along the road, having seen a sign for gas and Starbucks.  My quest was not as direct as I might have hoped.  I found the gas easily enough but mission caffeine was a little more complicated, much to my benefit.  While searching for Starbucks, I passed a small park on a river's edge and I returned to this, coffee in hand for a stroll before hitting the road again.   There was a short meandering trail, about a mile and a half, with lovely views of a river, and the edges of town and farm country, and it made for a most relaxing break from the road.  The trees here were a very light yllow, tinged with acid green, and they virtually glowed with the glimpses of light which were, at this point sneaking through small breaks in the clouds, the yellow of the streaky sunlight echoing the yellows in the trees.   Hidden behind avenues of commerce that line the interstate and major highways, I found this small gem, that offered a few moments for movement and reflection.  Sorry.  I left my phone in the car.  No photos. But then, with my attention on photos, there would be little room for reflection.

I spent the night in Memphis.  I was not yet half-way and it was not yet dark when I stopped, but I was still tired and knew it was better to stop early and rest. Tiredness, darkness, construction and rain are not a good combination, and I do know my limits.  Besides this gave me time to take a short walk.  The rain started before the end of my walk, but I was near the hotel, and I stopped at a little café for a burger and fries before returning to the hotel.   I was greeted by a lovely and cheerful young lady, somewhere on the special needs spectrum, who showed me to a seat and took my order.  Turns out she is the daughter of the proprietor and cook.  Later I was rewarded, as I ate my burger, by the lovely sound of this young woman's rich mezzo, as she sang to herself while wiping tables behind me in preparation for the evening crowd. The words were indistinguishable, but the music was a gift to my weary ears and brain, and the perfect close to a lovely day.