I am a country boy at heart. I grew up surrounded by the beauty of the Tennessee hills. In my lifetime I have beheld many beautiful sights. Many of them found their beginning on the farm that I called home.
It is a beautiful sight to see when tobacco plants, recently set out (transplanted) turn green and begin to leave the ground. It is an equally beautiful sight when tobacco reaches a height of about two feet, turns dark green and begins to “lap” in the row. Some use to refer to that stage of growth as being “laid by.” When tobacco has “spread off” and stands golden yellow waiting for the knife and spike, it makes for a sight pleasant to my eyes.
My late wife, Kathy, loved black cows (at a distance.) Sometimes when we were driving out in the countryside, she would suddenly say, “I love black cows!” I have to admit a herd of black cows spread out against a backdrop of green grass is a thing of beauty.
Springtime affords one on my favorite settings. When spring hay is cut, raked, and baled: and the hayfield turns lush and green again it makes for a beautiful sight. Especially, when the green of the grass is contrasted to golden round bales standing in a row.
My friend, Dr. Paul Enoch, DVM says there is hardly anything that will lift your spirits like seeing a young horse colt or filly making a “run” in the early morning. I feel the same way about seeing young calves making their “run” with their tails high in the air.
When I was a boy my father took my brothers and me crappie fishing on Center Hill Lake. Since there were four of us, he would take us two at a time. He liked to be on the lake before daylight. Back in the day we followed a circuitous route to Center Hill which took us through Gordonsville, Lancaster, and Temperance Hall, best I recall. We fished the tree tops in Indian Creek with cane poles rigged with gold, Eagle hooks and “pencil” floats. We rarely caught more than a dozen fish, but the ones we kept were big, black, slab crappie. I came to decide there was hardly anything more beautiful than a big crappie lying on its side on top of the water right before you brought it into the boat.
Those who know me know I spent some of my best boyhood days in The Brim Hollow, home to my maternal grandparents, Herod and Lena Brim. Sixty-plus years have changed the landscape there. The old house, where I once slept under a tin roof, has begun to crumble under the weight of the years. The old barns are beginning to lean precariously. The chicken house looks empty and forlorn. The outhouse which once stood solid and well maintained has finally fallen in upon itself.
I don’t get back there as often as I once did; except in my mind. In my mind’s eye I see that old house standing strong and erect. Fat, spring lambs are grazing in knee-high grass in the lot next to the tobacco barn. A flock of laying hens is spread out on the hillside in search of delicacies, not too far from the safety of the trees. The mules, Kate and Liz (That’s Liz with along “i.”) are standing in the pound. The lone milk cow is grazing lazily on the hillside near the feed barn. The branch, fed by several springs found up the hollow, is running crystal clear. It makes for a beautiful sight.
I’ve had the good fortune of visiting the great state of Texas on occasion. In San Antonio there is a tall building which features at its pinnacle, the Lone Star flag flying, majestic and proud. It is a breathtakingly beautiful sight.
And so, we are surrounded every day by beauty. Sometimes we fail to see it because we aren’t looking for it.
Copyright 2026 by Jack McCall
