Photographs taken at sunrise, May 19, 2010, as I went on my morning walk along Granny White Pike on the eastern edge of the Lipscomb University campus:
We had rainfall in record-breaking amounts, approximately 14 inches in 36 hours over the weekend of May 1 and 2, 2010 -- so much rain that it came down in sheets, and even low-lying land far from any of the rivers, including the portion of the Cumberland that flows through downtown Nashville, was covered in rushing water for many hours.
The Cumberland came out of its banks to a height unseen since the floods of 1937, heavily damaging the Opryland Hotel miles upstream, the Schermerhorn Symphony Center on 4th Avenue, and many downtown businesses on Lower Broadway and other streets near the river front. Nashville lost one of its two water treatment plants, and all of Davidson County is still under a mandatory water conservation order. So Lipscomb University has signs indicating its compliance posted in the lush green grass between the campus and Granny White Pike.
A number of beautiful old trees have survived both drought and flood around town, but many also succumbed. I was pleased to find the ancient white-oak to the east of Avalon Hall (the farmhouse which was the last home of the school's founder, David Lipscomb, and his wife) and the huge old
Magnolia grandiflora in front of the historic building still standing unscathed, at least for now.
Sunlight was just touching the magnolia's leaves and flowers as I turned onto the campus to try to get the entire tree into my camera's view frame.
I then walked up close to it and held the camera at arm's length, high above my head, to get this image of the lowest blossom. The tree does not have as many blooms open as in past years. Whether this is related to the storms and unprecedentedly heavy rains of May 1 and 2, one can only speculate.
The blossoms on the peony bush near the front porch at Avalon Hall were drooping from yet more rain on the morning of May 19, and a little bit mud-spattered, too.
I got my shoes and the hems of my trouser legs soaked in the wet grass near the rose bed behind Avalon, but the sun was just high enough to light up this low-hanging bloom, and the leaves near it, apparently an insect's recent lunch-leftovers. The rosebushes have recently been mulched, and they may have been newly planted since the floods. Wednesday, May 19, was the first morning I'd been able to walk near the campus since April 30, the day before the historic storms moved in.
