Posting from the j-bird roost in NE Tennessee tonight and oh what a relief it is. I always enjoy being here with my Tennessee bride and her family. It never fails that I am intrigued with something mentioned in the endless stories that swirl, sometimes to the point of dizziness! Talk about getting a word in edgewise, forget it. Pretty much being a flatlander from Atlanta excludes my overall credibility when trying to engage in the Appalachian dialogue anyway. Hillbillies are tight that way and beings that I don’t chew King Bee further erodes my trustworthiness.
Last night I heard about a delightful area my kin referred to as Evan flowing springs. SweetTaters and I are often amused at how words get tangled. In my case growing up I always heard my grandfather at certain times of the year talk about having some pretty rosnarries out in the field. I had no idea what the heck he was talking about until one day years later it connected. Out of the blue it hit at a cook out one summer when the host was roasting ears of corn! Scrambling the Kings English isn’t only a Tennessee thang.
Having grown up in these hills and hollows SweetTaters remembered exactly where to take me sightseeing today. During the jabber last night I really couldn’t understand what the deal about Evan flowing springs was all about. There was talk about how the spring flowed across the road and how people use to stop their car there and wash it in those cold waters. They talked about how at times it was barely a trickle and then a rock would turn some way and allow more water to flow. What the heck is this place? They talked about how recently a rich guy from Florida bought all the area around the springs and built a restaurant. A restaurant in the middle of nowhere! Who in his right mind would be stupid enough to do that. That’s a tough business even on a four lane. We ain’t talkin’ four lane here. The guy obviously has money to burn.
Nice, enchanting even, were my thoughts today when walking over the grounds of Evan flowing springs. The restaurant sure enough set upon a hill overlooking the area. The cooking smelled good but we only came to check out the scenery. We were the only ones there for a while. A couple did come up later to enjoy the scenery as well. The guy has worked his butt off cleaning out the flats going down to the spring. An old stone dam still holds back a pool of water. The ruins of another stone structure sets on the banks below the dam. I recall two cars passing while we were there. I am talking off the beaten path. The second car interrupted a nature’s call! Guys have this thing about being in the woods. It’s just an overwhelming urge at times. It seems the further past fifty I get, the more overwhelming it is. Hey, if you’ve never broken up an ant parade you don’t know what your missing!
Well now, where were we? Oh yes, parade. This restaurateur does not have one. What a nice place but restaurant row, it ain’t. Picturesque, without a doubt. Enchanting, I think so. Something was missing or I was missing something. Evan’s Burger by the springs? Evan’s flowing syrup Pancake house? Evans Frank’n bean? If the rich guy from Florida wants to throw away money, hit me baby!
Back at the j-bird roost my curiosity was killing cats. I Googled a map of Rogersville and retraced our route out to what should have been, by all kin indications, Evan flowing springs. Ah yes, another rosnarrie moment in life! An Appalachian rendering of Ebbing. Yes you got it. Ebbing and Flowing Springs! Rogersville Tennessee is rich in history and this little nook and corner of the county has a story to tell http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ebbing_and_Flowing_Spring#References.
I’ll be checking out the Restaurant for more info. I gotta meet this guy.