The weather hasn’t been too friendly here in east central Georgia these four weeks, but occasionally it’s been pleasant and we’ve tried to take advantage of those days. A few beautiful mushrooms have crossed our paths, although I think this one is my favorite. It looks almost silky, doesn’t it? Still not eating it.
The almost squared off bark tiles of the Pinus echinata (Shortleaf Pine) at Mistletoe State Park captured my fancy. I saw one today too, right at the campsite. Talk about situational blindness. The trees themselves are very tall, but the branches don’t start until quite far up the trunk. It creates a canopy not unlike a series of umbrellas, allowing you to see deep into the forest, despite so many tree trunks all around. They do indeed let you see the forest for the trees.
The most ongoing natural beauty, however, has been from our campsite. The sunrises and sunsets are beautiful on a nearly daily basis, but the lights from the boat shelters are my favorite sight as they cast their shimmering green reflections onto the water as dusk drops into night and dawn breaks into day.
Right here, it reminds me of Nick Carraway reminiscing, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Gatsby would have had a hard time picking out Daisy’s dock from this line up.
Below is the other side of our peninsula. Georgia takes sunsets seriously.
We’ve passed by the dam, below, on many of our drives between Georgia and South Carolina. It’s holding back that big wild oak leaf that is Lake Hartwell. The dam itself is rather uninteresting, seen one and you’ve seen them all, but the downstream area has striking red rocks peaking out of the crystal waters of the Savannah River.
If you’ve ever hear about the red clay of eastern Georgia (and western South Carolina), know that they weren’t exaggerating. It is red red deep brick red in color. And next to green grass, it feels like a Christmas display available year round. Every construction site churns up the brightest red clay we’ve ever seen.
Ever heard of Tallulah Falls? No? Neither had we. It’s a small religious college with a waterfall at the back of it.
For $2 you can take a 3 minute stroll to stand at the base of it. It was pretty and quiet and we had it all to ourselves. Four bucks well spent.
We were saddened to read the plaque there about the flood of 1977 which wiped out a large part of the campus, killing over 20 people and injuring nearly 70. The dam behind this waterfall had failed. You exit through the gift shop. Yes, seriously.
This ancient hydroelectric power station used to power the campus, but has since been decommissioned. If you risk the venomous cottonmouth snakes, like I did, you can still see some of the old machinery inside.
If not, like Jeff, you can enjoy its old tin roof. Ever wonder why Cindy Wilson of the B-52’s, ends that old bar favorite, Love Shack, with the phrase, ‘Tinnnnn roof. Rusted.’ ? Having been in the backyard of Athens for some time now (Go Bulldogs!), we can easily see why. Tin roofs are ev.ery.where down here. New and old, big and small, they are and appear to always been the default roofing option. You can almost age a building by the amount of rust on its roof.
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