The Spring House is a small place on the earth. Only 1/80,802,000 of the entire state of Tennessee. A tiny 1/3 of an acre and a home.

At first glance, it appears to be of no great significance. A simple home in a neighborhood that might be found any where, but The Spring House is a place with a story to tell.

It is a place of springs, where the waters of inspiration and creativity come forth. It is a place of history, a place of music, a place of art. And most importantly a place of peace and love.

It is a little corner of the world that we hope that we will tend well, as we share it with you.


From the Heliconian Muses let us begin to sing, 
Who hold the great and holy mount of Helicon,
And dance on soft feet about the deep-blue spring…

When they have washed their tender bodies…
In the Horse’s Spring…
Make their fair, lovely dances upon highest Helicon…
and utter their song with lovely voice.

– Hesiod, Theogony and Works and Days

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@the.spring.house


O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

– John Keats (from Ode to a Nightingale)