Winstead Hill and the McGavock Confederate Cemetery

Last weekend, our good friends Lloyd and Kay Rinehart stopped by for dinner.  Before dinner, Charlotte and I took Lloyd and Kay to see Winstead Hill and the McGavock Confederate Cemetery at Carnton Plantation.

Winstead Hill was General Hood's headquarters (Confederate) during the Battle of Franklin.

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Partially up Winstead Hill is a lookout post with a map and history of the battle.  The battle took place on November 30, 1864, and casualties topped 8,000 men.  The Confederates were unsuccessful in their bid to take back Franklin, but Federal forces withdrew to Nashville the night after the battle.

The battlefield from Winstead Hill.

There are a number of monuments on Winstead Hill commemorating the Confederate efforts that day.  Here is the detail from one of them.

After showing Lloyd and Kay Winstead Hill, we drove over to Carnton Plantation.  Carnton Plantation served as a hospital for the Confedrate forces.  When the smoke cleared, the Carnton porch held the bodies of five Confederate generals.  After the battle, the McGavock family established a Confederate graveyard on their land.

The soldiers are buried by state.  Some of these men were in their teens.  Charlotte was fascinated by the graves.

A book lists the names of the soldiers in each grave.

There are 230 Tennesseans buried in the Confederate Cemetery and 89 Texans.

Carnton Plantation from the Cemetery.

Today, while our house was being shown, Niki, the kids, Connie, and I went back to Winstead Hill to explore.  Charlotte had found a small footpath leading from the overlook when we were there with Lloyd and Kaye, so we decided to explore it.

In some areas, we may not have been on the path at all.  Connie enjoyed trotting up the trail and back,  Peter looked for acorns, and declared many rocks to be "not an acorn".  Charlotte led the way.

Connie took a moment to sit and admire her family.

Scenes from a cell phone

The first one was taken in Dallas on my mom's back porch.  Is anyone as amazed as I am about how long Charlotte's legs are getting?  She's like a little gazelle.  She's losing all her baby roundness and becoming this lanky little thing.  This photo also shocks me because Peter smiled and I was able to actually capture it!  You would never know what a smiley little guy he normally is because he certainly won't do it when a camera is around.

And here's DJ Charlotte at a recent bibliophile-themed rave:

Okay, really she was just playing a Barney game on the computer at the library.  She is in love with playing those games, so I think we may need to get our desktop computer set up with a mouse for her to use!

Making "cars" out of boxes -- complete with steering wheels, tires, and speedometers.

"TO THE RESCUE!!!!!"  (Peter says this whenever we see a fire engine, read about firefighters, or put on fireman hats.  This is actually a hat he got at Touch-a-Truck from the EMT ambulance, but it's shaped like a firefighter's hat.)

Sunday at the Lane Motor Museum

On Sunday, I took Niki, Charlotte, and Peter to one of my favorite places -- the Lane Motor Museum.  It is located in an old bakery, and it contains about 150 really unique, odd European cars and motorcycles.  I love this place.  Most of the cars are drivable, and it is clear that the cars are affectionately cared for by true car guys.

We parked in a garage outside, which was filled with random vehicles to gawk at even before you go inside and pay the admission fee.  This is an UltraVan -- a motorhome made out of a Corvair.  Niki contemplated the rig while Charlotte and Peter went in search of "baby cars."

Peter:  Look!  A baby car!

Inside the museum.

The museum has a GREAT kids play place on a raised platform in the middle of the floor.  Niki really wants one of these little gas pumps for the play room.

Niki pretending to fill up an electric car with gasoline.  This is why we will not be buying a Nissan Leaf.

Charlotte found a rocking car.

In 1948, Hans Berger made this rocket-powered car for his daughter, Heidi to drive in races.  Read that again.  Some father made a ROCKET-POWERED CAR FOR HIS DAUGHTER.  According to the write-up on the car, there was no way to control the thrust.  You simply lit the rocket and held on.

The museum provided a Citroen 2CV that people could climb into.  Charlotte was tickled to sit in the front while I sat in the back.  Unfortunately, after Niki took this picture and wandered off after Peter, I realized that I couldn't figure out how to open the door again and had to yell for help.  Finally, a nice staff guy let us out.

Why had Niki wandered off?  Peter had slid into this BMW Isetta (NOT a car you were supposed to sit in), and Niki had to lure him out.

Charlotte took this picture of this baby Subaru.

She also took a picture of me and this Audi 4000. 

Apparently, this is the appropriate pose for a Renault Alpine.

 Charlotte and I liked this ski/propeller car.  Can we really call this a car?

I think this is the Tatra that Spike, Grandpa Chuck, and I rode in the first time we went to the Lane Motor Museum.  Did I mention that they give rides every once in a while?

Charlotte and a 2011 Dallara (IndyCar).

To get an idea of how big those IndyCars are - here is the Dallara next to a MG Midget race car.

 Me and a Triumph Spitfire.  I didn't see any TR7 or TR8s there.

 Charlotte and an old Stringer family favorite - an Amphicar.

Seeing the dual props on these cars always gives me a kick.

Incidentally, GrandDad and NanaB sent us this photo of an Amphicar they actually saw in the water in Leland, MI this weekend.

Charlotte spent a little time trying to figure out which side was the front.

The Lane Motor Museum is full of the weird and the wonderful.  This MGTF is wonderful.

Here is an old VW with a primitive cooling unit.

 I have always loved the Jag XKE dashboard.

I love the Lane Motor Museum.  I hope to get back soon.  Hopefully on July 14, 2012, when the good folks at the Lane are planning to fire this up and crush stuff in the parking lot:

Niki is not quite as excited as I am for that event.

Franklin Touch-a-Truck

Every once in a while, the City of Franklin cleans up some of its civic duty trucks, brings them to Pinkerton Park, and allows the local kids to climb all over them, honk horns, and push all sorts of buttons in them.  They call it "Touch-a-Truck", which conjures up all sorts of images of these poor vehicles being molested.  Then again, I imagine their real drivers do take their lives in their hands when they start the trucks up afterwards.

But, it is a ton of fun -- not just for the kids, but for us parents, too.  I also get the impression that the volunteers who gave up their Friday night to show kids the ambulances, trash trucks, etc. really enjoyed showing off their rides.  (Especially the cherry picker guy.  That guy seemed to be having a ball.  He was up and down and over here and then over there, swooping around like Spiderman at the end of the cherry picker arm.)

TRUCK ONE:  Touch me first.

TRUCK TWO:  No, me first!

Cherry Picker Guy:  WHEEEEEEE!

Charlotte:  Nice.  How do I honk the horn?

Cherry Picker Guy:  WHEEEEEE!

 Charlotte:  This seat is a little low.  Just a little bit.

Charlotte:  This is my new pet fire truck.  His name is Squirty.

Niki:  This is the truck that picks up our yard waste.

Peter:  There's a stick.  Pick it up with the pneumatic arm!

Niki, the kids, and the police who will become very familiar to us once Peter can drive.

Niki and the kids found the CIRT van.  

Inside the CIRT Van.

Peter:  Guys with guns?  Check.  Location of the bad guys?  Check.  Wearing sunglasses, a muscle shirt, and "super jump shoes" instead of a uniform?  Check.  I'm ready.  Let's roll.

By far, the biggest star of the show was this Peterbilt.

Daddy:  Pull this to release the air-brake and we're rollin'.  I'll keep my foot on the gas.  You keep the bears off our ass.

Peterbilt dashboard.

After Touch-a-Truck, we returned to Cannonwood to play cornhole with the Marshalls.  Dan built the boards and Niki sewed the bags.  David and  Alicia started off the evening with a few practice tosses.

What the heck is going on here?  Seriously.  I have no idea.

In some places, "it's not over until the fat lady sings."  In Cannonwood, "it's not over until the toddler boy collapses on Bubba Pig."  This phrase just doesn't have the same ring.