What we know is that Eliza Allen’s father owned 800 acres three miles south of Gallatin on a bluff. Locals tell us that the house was off of what is now Steam Plant Road.
I just now measured. If they owned 800 acres, they owned most of Odom’s Bend.
I also have been thinking about the fact that, when the Franklin family slaves were emancipated, they all went over to Peach Valley Road to live. I’m starting to suspect–if Isaac Franklin indeed had 1000 acres and he grew enough food on that rocky land to supply the Louisiana farms, which means he must have had plenty of bottom land–that the Franklin family slaves didn’t “go” anywhere. I think they just settled where the field cabins had been.
The dog and I went for our first walk since sometime last week, the last moment I was pretending like I wasn’t really sick. I’m still sick, though it’s much better.
I have a belief that there comes a point in any cold when you need to get up and get moving around. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s my superstition that, at first, you need a lot of rest so that you body can focus on fighting whatever it is, but then, as you start to feel better, you need to start doing normal things to kind of bring systems back online and get them working again so that they can knock out whatever in your cold is left.
It was a slow walk, then, since I’m still not breathing 100%, but the dog seems happy with it.
Last night he figured out how to sit on the Butcher’s lap, which made me very happy. He had been noticeably thinking about something all evening and we were all–well, not the Butcher, who ended up with a hundred and twenty pound dog in his lap–pleased when his thoughts coalesced into action in the world.