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A Time for the Outdoors

A Time for the Outdoors

"Where are the songs of Spring?" wrote John Keats, one of the world's most universally admired poets. "Ay, where are they?" We spend much of our winter thinking of spring and when it will arrive. We dream of the green buds emerging from the hardwoods, the daffodils sprouting from the soil, the birds chirping at the first light of day. When it comes, we think, we will all be so happy.

The arrival of spring produces a number of responses, emotions, sensations. We feel joy. We feel like yelling in the front yard. We feel like mixing gin and tonics at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Besides that, we feel like scrubbing our house from the basement to the attic and we feel like doing back-breaking manual labor in our yards.

In this issue of Site, we present a landscaping overhaul that was both massive in its scope and miraculous in its achievement. In a five-acre Belle Meade yard, a naturalistic objective dominated the thinking of a landscaping team, and we publish the results for you to behold.

Meanwhile, over on Brighton Road, the residents of a new, ultramodern home are enjoying their first spring season. The expense of the windows alone in this structure totaled 10 percent of its total cost, meaning that just about everywhere its residents turn, they are able to see the seasons change in their yards.

Meanwhile, in Site's regular feature "Objects of Desire," we focus on a number of home elements that may be of particular interest to homeowners with their eyes on getting out in the yard. For instance, there's a decorated tub—almost a work of art—that can hold the beer. We like that.

Site endeavors to communicate to the discriminating Nashvillian the things that are worth looking at in our city's homes and buildings and yards. We seek virtuosity in design, furnishings and landscaping. Site is about discovering the elements in Nashville that are pleasing to the eye.

As the temperature climbs and you wander out into your yard, we hope this provides you some food for thought.

—The Editors


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