About the Property

We came here in 2012. I still catch myself staring at parts of the property trying to figure out what changed, even when I’m pretty sure nothing actually did. Some spots look identical every time I walk past them. Then the thing right beside it looks different for no reason at all. I’ll head outside thinking I know exactly what I’m walking toward, and then a grass patch is leaning the wrong way or the ground dips like it shrugged overnight.

If you turn off Baker Road, the gravel does this little shift under the tires—subtle, but you notice it after a while. The trees lean in closer than seems reasonable. Visitors always point that out first. I didn’t think about it until someone else said it. Funny how that works.

Back behind the ridge, the land can’t decide what it wants to be. One day everything feels level. Next day you’re walking and your feet know there’s a rise long before your eyes do. I’ve walked that loop far more times than necessary. Sometimes because I wanted the walk. Other times because I just needed to not be inside. Late-afternoon light hangs strangely along the ridge; it makes you stop even if you weren’t planning to. No big meaning behind it. It just does.

We’ve only fixed things here when they forced us. Fence leaning too far. Gravel sliding downhill again. A branch that refused to stop sagging. Birds kick off earlier than I’d ever choose, and they make noise before the door even closes behind you. Eventually that noise disappears into the background unless a guest mentions it and you suddenly hear it again.

Maps say Nashville is close. The map doesn’t match the feeling. Once you drive down the hill into the property, the whole sense of distance changes. I remember saying during our first week, “It doesn’t feel like the map looks,” and hearing someone say the exact same thing before they’d heard me say it.

THE LODGE

The Lodge landed in the middle of everything, probably because whoever placed it just went, “Yeah, that’ll do.” Outside, it looks like plain brick—older than the photos make it look. Inside, it has its own odd mix of pieces that seem like they belonged to completely different houses.

One part of the structure came from the childhood home Brenda Lee lived in before the house was moved. People pause when they hear that, even though they’re not standing in a museum or anything like that. It just catches people off guard for a second.

Some rooms look untouched since we moved in. Others changed because something broke or peeled or annoyed me enough that I finally fixed it. Guests use the Lodge however they need: family stuff, a birthday, escaping from work, recovering from a loud week. Mornings feel lighter; nights settle differently. Hard to explain the pattern because there isn’t one.

RV & CAMPING AREAS

Farther back, the whole mood flips. The RV sites were never meant to match each other. One sits deep in the trees where noises land soft and dull. The other sits close to the small bridge; if the creek is running, you hear that before you hear anything else.

Some nights people talk around a small fire. Other nights nobody talks at all. Folks pick a “favorite” site, though no two people ever pick the same one or explain why in a way that makes sense to the next person.

HORSE BOARDING

We only board a few horses. It isn’t a formal stable—just shade in the right places and enough room for them to stretch and settle. Nothing polished. Owners from Hendersonville, Gallatin, Goodlettsville—they all describe the same experience in slightly different words. Their horses unwind faster here. No trick to it. It just happens.

TRAILS & OUTDOOR AREAS

None of the trails came from a real plan. Someone walked a path, then again, and the land eventually agreed with them. Another path cuts across the ridge. Another loops because whoever walked it must’ve changed their mind halfway through. Deer figured out half of the pathways long before we followed them.

The property doesn’t stay the same from season to season. Spring greens can be too bright. Summer settles into itself. Fall pops under your feet. Winter clears out so much that the valley looks bigger than it seems during the rest of the year. People eventually find a corner they like, but nobody agrees on which corner that is.

A PLACE TO SLOW DOWN

People land here in different rhythms. Some barely leave the Lodge. Others wander the woods. A few stay near the horses. No predictable pattern.

Most guests slow down by the end of their first day without trying to. I’ve tried to describe it plenty of times, and every explanation sounds wrong. People tell me they sleep better here, or breathe easier, or feel like time stretched a bit. They usually mention it while packing the car, then realize they said something similar earlier in the week.