The once pristine view

There is a finger of land that juts out into the middle of Cove Lake. A local historian says that a Cherokee Indian altar once existed under the spreading branches of the oak tree at the tip of the phalanx. Behind this peninsula there is a curtain of mountains surrounding on 2 sides like nature’s amphitheatre. Autumn leaves ablaze for weeks glorify the pending completion of each episode of the life cycle. In the winter the peaks are frosted most mornings. Not a billboard in sight- at least to the northern view. Defenseless, the denuded trees were traumatized this winter with the erection of a pole worthy of power lines. Only in this case the State Park Public Servant put one of those bird house hotels on top. As if the birds couldn’t find suitable natural lodging amongst the 20 mature hardwoods spread evenly across the narrow strip. To a photographer it is like a Motel 6 has been erected in St Peter’s Square. A visual screech on the black board. --James
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