I live just outside Nashville, but in aesthetic terms we're about a million miles away from city life.
Lebanon, Gallatin, and Mt Juliet are small towns, each with its own unique personality. Lebanon is the farming town ... Gallatin has a small industry feel ... Mt Juliet is quirky and upbeat, a place for shopping. And I live smack dab in between the three of them, out in the country near a Corps of Engineers lake. There are cows across the street, a mule and some horses across the field behind us, and we used to have llamas and alpacas in that land in between. Turkeys trek across our yard at times, deer graze in the lot down the street when they're out of season, and hawks spend most days hunting for rabbits from overhead.
So it wouldn't surprise anyone when I announce I woke up to the sound of a damned male chicken.
Good news is, about halfway through his second cockadoodle do, he choked on something. Pretty sure he died. I'm not saying I was involved. I have alibis.
Go Vols!