A few fall leaves barely clung to the tree as they danced in the cool morning breeze. Wispy clouds passed overhead in the deep blue sky. It promised to be a great day for a ride through the countryside. You never know what you might find along back roads that wind through changing landscapes and abut on cultures unique to the area.
As I gazed through the truck window, I was not disappointed. Straight roads that led through flat land bordered with open fields quickly transformed to narrow curvy roads twisting in, out, around, up, and down the hollows and plateaus of Middle Tennessee. Rolling hills were dotted with cattle, horses, sheep and goats. Old barns, log and wooden homes devoured by time, weather, honeysuckle, trees and kudzu crumbled to the ground. Small creeks, some no more than a trickle, curled along the base of the hills and cut their way through the valley. Wide rivers looked like broad avenues leading to who knows where.
History abounds in this part of the country and comes to life as it tells its own story. Like looking through the windows of a time machine moving back in time, there are glimpses into the lives of those who lived and wandered through these hills. Even now, forgotten memories linger in the shadows of hidden hollows and peek through broken windows and cracks in the chinking of weathering log walls.
Wind whispers from the valleys and rims of the hills of an age when Native Americans were guardians of the land. If you listen closely, you might hear moans from an era of revolution and groans of civil unrest of a broken nation rise from the blood soaked ground. You might catch the passing sound of footsteps of marching soldiers or the lingering echo of rumbling cannons resonating from hill to hill. As morning fog lifts from the recesses of the slopes, one might imagine a glimpse of shadowy figures of Native Americans driven from the place of their birth, bowing under their heavy burdens as they follow a trail of agonizing tears to a land not their own. Wave upon wave of pioneers follow the westward paths through the mountains and valleys to a land of opportunity as her doors open. As some leave, others come amid bittersweet pains to bring rebirth to expanding communities and cities. Charming old Southern towns are preserved as a lifeline to the past. Even now, those seeking refuge from crowded cities are drawn to rural areas throughout the nation.
These ridges, dales, and plains hold treasures just waiting to be discovered. Some of those priceless gems are old general stores that offer a Moon Pie and RC Cola, antique shops, city cafes, and quaint charming Southern towns decorated for Christmas. Some nuggets of gold are found in the work of artisans and crafters of the foothills who display their talents. Here, Native American history comes alive through archaeological parks, sacred sites, and museums that give a glimpse into their lives, their respect for the land, their worship, and their survival. Civil War history preserved in National military parks and monuments is available for visitors to learn more of our past. No matter where our ancestors fit, it is, nonetheless, part of our story. Though we cannot change history, it remains as a sobering reality and reminder of the path mankind has traveled.
The promise of a great day was fulfilled – and to think that we saw and experienced all of this on a simple country drive.
“Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history.” – Abraham Lincoln
West Fork Stones River 
Crocheted Cover 
Bell Buckle 
Dog Trot cabin at Historic Sam Davis House
Old Stone Fort State Archaeological Park
Foothills Crafts
Wartrace & Bell Buckle
Stones River National Battlefield