Spike

Walking down the railroad tracks in the Old City reveals the usual detritus of civilization: plastic bags, broken bottles, and cigarette butts. But once in awhile, something else turns up. Something maybe a bit more interesting and historic. Like this: an old railroad spike. These tracks have been here since the late 1800s; the Old City grew up to take advantage of that prime location, wanting to move all kinds of goods along the railways to be sold in other cities. And you know, those trains rumble down the tracks, and the tracks quake, a call and response that repeats day after day, century after century. Once in awhile, all those vibrations cause one of the old iron spikes to pop out and lay in the gravel, useless as a beached fish. But quite interesting to wandering photobloggers.

Beaten Tracks

Oh boy, a mini-theme! These railroad tracks pass through the Mead's Quarry section of Ijams Nature Center. They used to service the company that mined the quarry for marble, but are no longer in use, in contrast to yesterday's post of the Southern Railway tracks downtown. Which is a good thing, as I seem to be developing an unfortunate habit of standing in the middle of the tracks.

Raison d'Etre

The Old City section of downtown came to be because of the railroad. The Southern Railway transformed Knoxville into a hub for transporting goods throughout the South. By the turn of the 20th century, Knoxville was one of the largest wholesale cities in the South. The recently closed White Lily flour plant is there on the left.

In this century, the Old City is primarily an entertainment district, but these tracks are still used by the Southern Railway. Which means that I was standing in the way of commerce to take this photo. Good thing commerce runs on a schedule so I will live to take more photos.

Lucille's

Enough with the nature, let's get citified again for a moment.

Lucille's in the Old City was a classy little hole-in-the-wall jazz joint for many years. The best of the Knoxville jazz scene would play there. And before you go making rude noises about the words "best", "jazz", and "Knoxville" residing cozily in the same sentence, let me remind you that the Jazz Studies program at UT attracts some very talented students and faculty to our area.

Anyway, Lucille's. It had a reputation not only as one of the best jazz venues in town, but also as the go-to place for visiting performers to unwind after their shows. It's true. I was there the night Joan Baez danced on top of the bar to the sounds of Donald Brown and his jazz quartet.

Too bad Lucille's is no more, only the sign remains. The place is now a beer-and-BBQ spot, and while I do enjoy my occasional beer and BBQ, it doesn't have the same flair. And believe me, in this crummy economy, we need some flair. You picked a fine time to leave us, Lucille's.

The Things They Left Behind 2

Stanton Cemetery lies at the very top of the limestone bluff overlooking Mead's Quarry. You'll come upon it suddenly as you wind along Tharp Trace trail, an austere place on a winter's afternoon. The little community is long gone, but the cemetery was literally uncovered from beneath a thick tangle of vines when Ijams began improving the nature trails around the quarry.
Graves are dated from 1870 through 1939, although there are many graves marked only with small fieldstones. Life was hard for these quarry workers and their families; many of the markers record the brief histories of infants and children. They break my heart.

A local Boy Scout troop cleared the land and built a little post rail fence and benches, and it's a beautiful, mindful place to stop and sit. But I kind of liked it when I first saw Stanton Cemetery as I believe it was meant to be, when the trail first opened, and the vines still swirled thick and lush around the headstones.

Monet's Sun

Not a water lily in sight, but I think Mead's Quarry gives Giverny a pretty good run for its money in this shot.

The Things They Left Behind

Bricks. Piles and piles of bricks litter the Mead's Quarry site. When you walk the quarry trails, you'll come upon them suddenly, unexpectedly, lying in broken heaps, or covered gently with creeping vines.

The good folks at Ijams gave many of them a new life in rest areas such as this, where you can sit and contemplate the slant of winter light on bricks.