Trees

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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I love trees.

Cedars, oaks, redwoods, sequoias, catalpas, sycamores, pines, firs, poplars, aspens, birches, willows…I love them all…each and every one. Giant old trees and ambitious saplings. Trees planted in front of a front door, and those standing guard at corners or lining the roads like sentinels. I love to see forests growing wild in interstate medians.

Tree branches. Film double exposure.
Tree branches. Film double exposure.

 

Favorites.

I greet favorite characters along my route, marveling as bright leaves unfold in Spring, then color and drop in Autumn, and admiring the trees’ bones in Winter. I wonder what the neighborhood trees talk about high above our houses, chatting in the breeze.

Forests thrill and inspire me. The coastal redwoods are as close to heaven as I can imagine. Like museums or landmarks, trees and forests are on my wish list of places to see.

I’ve yet to see the Amazon rainforest. And it is increasingly likely I never will.

Missing trees.

The sound of a chainsaw makes me nervous and angry. The sight of branches and giant trunks split and piled high for the chipper makes me sick at my stomach. I imagine the pieces are still dying, the neighboring trees still whispering to the woodpile, saying goodbye.

Of course, I notice missing trees. Each time I pass, I remember and mourn the missing ones like friends, acknowledging the empty space in the ground, in the sky. I lost one this week. It’s a long story, for another time.

Big old neighborhood oak.
Ancient Bur Oak tree. There are four of these old oaks in one Chicago block. The trees were recently threatened by an elementary school expansion project. The neighborhood rallied to protect the trees. For now, they are safe. The annex builders did, however, destroy many younger trees in the easement in order to put up construction fences and to bring in heavy equipment.  

 

I’ve just started reading a book called “The Last Forest” by London and Kelly. I’m already sad. For someone who cried through “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss and “Barkskins” by Proulx, this non-fiction book will be harder given the recent news of fires in the Amazon and Siberia. Already, I’m anxious.

Waste not, want not.

I wish to be part of a civilization that respects trees and the earth, that repurposes and reuses instead of wasting and throwing out the old in favor of “progress”. Resources are not infinite. Infinite growth of profit and population is not sustainable. We must stop. We must stop taking trees and forests from earth and the animals.

What will I do to save the world’s trees? Use less paper, buy products with less packaging, protect land when it is threatened by developers, and plant trees. What else can I do? What will you do?

The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.
The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.
The last of the canopy. Leaves.
The last of the canopy. Leaves.

 

Thank you for reading

Photos in this post were taken with a film point-and-shoot camera on a sad day in 2012. The trees brought me indescribable comfort that day, and really…always. Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, tree-hugging, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Lower Broad, Nashville

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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Dawn on Lower Broad, Nashville

On a recent trip home to Nashville, we got up-and-out before dawn to cruise Nashville’s Lower Broad. I wanted to see the neon and what had become of my favorite old buildings along this four-block stretch that is the nation’s newest hotspot.

Lower Broadway honky tonk neon nashville TN
Looking down Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.
Lower Broadway honky tonk neon nashville TN
The lights of Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Hub of Nashville

This stretch of Broadway, down by the Cumberland River docks, used to be all about the business of living. Throughout the 1800s, grand bank buildings, hardware stores, grocers, clothing shops, and warehouses went up on Broadway to serve the boomtown. Ornate churches, Union Station, and Hume-Fogg High School came up too. And in the Great Depression, Federal assistance programs built the Post Office. For many years, Broadway was a hub of Nashville.

Acme Feed Seed Nashville TN
Riverfront warehouse, built in the late1880s, home to Acme Feed & Seed. Nashville, Tennessee. 
Old American National Bank building facade. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tenn.
Originally six stories, the American National Bank building (built in 1883) was demolished down to the facade in the 1970s. For years it was the Broadway Boot Company with a similar neon sign. Now it is the entry facade to a bar. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Then came music

The Grand Ole Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium in 1943. The country music radio shows still broadcast nationwide every Friday and Saturday on WSM 650. Lower Broadway filled with honky tonks. Tootsies Orchid Lounge harbored country music legends who’d just finished performing at the Ryman and slipped through the alley into the bar’s backdoor for a night cap. Record stores, boot companies, sequined clothing shops, poster printers, restaurants, and tourist trinket shops popped up in Lower Broad’s empty warehouses and shuttered bank buildings. Music-star wannabes wandered over from the Greyhound station with their guitars to busk and be discovered along the busy Lower Broad sidewalks.

Painted Lawrence Record Shop mural sign. Nashville, TN
Lawrence Record Shop sign. Nashville, Tennessee.
Tootsies Orchid Lounge lower Broad Nashville, TN
Tootsies Orchid Lounge. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Demise:  Abandoned to “Urban Renewal”

In 1974, the Grand Ole Opry moved out of the Ryman and Lower Broad began her descent. A fight raged over whether to demolish the Ryman Auditorium. Adult bookstores, smoke shops, and liquor stores filled the growing number of abandoned buildings. Lower Broad became a dirty, dangerous place to be. I remember riding with my grandfather to pick up my aunt from work at the South Central Bell building around the corner on Second Avenue. The area was creepy, dark and cave-like between the big buildings. We’d wait with the doors locked and the windows barely cracked. I wish now that I’d asked him about his memories of the area and made some photographs. It’s just vague memories now.

In the 1990s, Lower Broad began to turn around. People began to recognize the value of the area’s history. Some buildings were saved. Many were not…destroyed in fires or “urban renewal” projects. Here’s hoping their pre-country-music neon histories are remembered.

Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland Nashville TN
My hometown. Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland and the Nashville, Tennessee skyline, 2019. 

 

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Wandering through the Dog Days

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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Here I am.

Wandering, again. Daydreaming. Bemused by random ideas and the weight of options. Doing nothing of consequence. Wasting time. Creating little.

I’ve been trying to sort out life. What it means to be mid-50s with an all-consuming career behind me. What it means to be post my life goal of taking an extended trip around-the-world. I fret at night. We’re running through our savings like bath water. Big questions hover: What’s next? What will I do when I grow…uh…old? How will I busy my mind and hands, and feed the coffers? What will give me purpose and happiness? What will I do to fill my days?

Sara Davidson labeled this transitory phase of life “the narrows.” The name fits. I wander through it–sometimes paralyzed by indecision. Sometimes lazy. Listing with the wind. Observing. Listening. Waiting for inspiration, for energy, for some direction to show itself. Wandering until things fall into place–or the place falls apart.

Spring

I’ve been here in the narrows for awhile, with little fits and starts here and there. After our trip, I lagged in the doldrums for months. Then in March, there was an impetuous to move.

On the first day of Spring, I started work at a garden center. I work outside. I’m tan, more fit, and have fewer aches and pains. I bike to work. I’m learning and doing something I love. I feel good at the end of a day of physical labor. Office worries don’t follow me home. It’s good.

At the end of May, we adopted a little dog, a foster we fell in love with despite our efforts not to. He is eight-point-one pounds of gumption and guile. He wanders with me. Together, we watch the birds, the squirrels, the clouds. We dally on the streets talking to neighbors. It’s good.

What I haven’t done this summer is make photos or write. That’s not good.

Dog Days

These dog days unnerve me. Summer’s stagnant heat and humidity exhaust me. Restlessness sets in. I long for motion, for a fresh breeze. I wait for cool mornings and clarity. Is it just summer, or life’s road narrowing?

Time flies. My memory slips. Life is fragile. I want to photograph more, write more, create more, and do something with my ideas and vague notions. I want to wander with intention. What a paradox.

So, with this post, I commit to myself and anyone reading that I’ll go on a weekly creative outing with camera and notebook to see what I see, to record what I love, to remember what I feel emotions for, and maybe to create something that is satisfying. I invite you to walk with me.

Maybe this will add up to something worthwhile or beautiful. Or maybe it won’t. No matter. My goal is to enjoy the ride. Be kind. Be true. And wander on, until the road runs out.

Tennessee Cedar tree on lawn
Tennessee Cedar during the dog days of Summer 2019. 9/1/19.

 

Thank you for reading

Do you have similar feelings about transitions in life, about creative doldrums? How do you handle it? Any advice? 

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com. Select photos are for sale on Etsy.