WELL...
The Howard H. Baker Federal Courthouse downtown was originally built for the Whittle Communications company. When Whittle went out of business, the Feds took over this neo-Georgian building. The tower with cupola is now a familiar part of the downtown skyline.
I know, I know: I posted this one before. But look! It has feet! And inches too!
What's as big as a tyrannosaurus and hides behind trees?
I couldn't decide which one of these I liked better, so today you get a twofer.
This concludes your tour of the doors of Maplehurst. I'll be back tomorrow with our regularly scheduled program, whatever that might be.
Not only doors, but windows too. I'm not sure if this cottage is occupied. Those window panes are darkened, not broken.
There's an interesting light coming through the window. Am I the only one thinking of extraterrestrial activity? Sigh. Don't answer that.
I don't know why I'm thinking of the tale of Hansel and Gretel here. The person behind that door was up to no good. Perhaps it would be best not to knock and move on with alacrity to the next door.
The doors of Maplehurst often have a storybook quality about them. This one looks like there could be a hobbit in residence.
Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here at this unassuming sports bar on Clinton Highway on the anniversary of the fatal accident that took the life of James Agee's father, an event which later inspired his Pulitzer Prize winning novel, A Death In the Family.
Last year I showed you some of the ruins of the Candoro Marble Works factory. They're still pretty much in ruins. But the office building has been lovingly restored and now hosts many art and music events.
This is one of the oldest buildings downtown, reportedly built around the time of the Civil War in the 1860s. Poor old sagging thing - it looks tired.
It's not about the treble clef, although I think that's pretty cool. It's all about the bright green sheetrock on top of the Crimson Building. Please don't ask me why the sheetrock isn't crimson. The building is finally being reconstructed after a disasterous fire a few years ago.
I was waiting patiently at an intersection for the light to go green when I saw this pattern on the freshly mown grass in front of this historic building on the edge of the Sequoyah Hills neighborhood. So I took a quick shot during the red light. It looked like a pair of green socks that I once had. Only bigger. And made of grass.
This is an old gaging station tower that still stands along the banks of the Tennessee River near downtown Knoxville. The US Geological Survey folks use them to monitor water height, temperature, and water chemistry. I don't know if this one is still in service - it looks old and abandoned.
I don't know who painted this mural or when it was painted. As you see, I am not the fountain of information today. I just find this mural so poignant when I step back and view it in its full context:
This is the old swimming pool for the patients at Lakeshore Mental Health Institute. I don't know if they still use it - it looks pretty run down. And maybe that's where my pathos radar kicks in. The fantasy is a white sand beach with sunbathing babes and surfer dudes. The reality is a rectangle of chlorinated water behind barred gates.
Here's another moody scene: the smokestack at the Lakeshore Mental Health Facility towers over me and touches the stormclouds. The angle I photographed makes it look like the smokestack is curved, but it's really not. We're in for more stormy weather today.
Spring is officially here - and not a moment too soon! It doesn't take much warm weather for the Bradford pear trees to blossom out - here's one framing the Sunsphere.
This building in theOld City still has all of its transoms and custom-made doors. I cropped the sides a bit to frame the symmetry. I can assure you that I have no immortal hand or eye. Heh. Can you see the short staircase just inside leading to yet another door? Mysterious, no?
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