"What a day this has been
What a rare mood I'm in
It's almost like falling in love"
The magic of this full throttle Spring day is nearly overwhelming. It is early, moving along on Hwy 296 through Reidville towards Mauldin. Lush green fields, blooming catalpas, tulip poplars and magnolias along the way before I am in the South edge of Greenville and turn rt on 146, then left on Butler Rd and continue through Maudin until the road becomes Mauldin Road.
The entrance to Conestee Lake Park is at 840 Mauldin Road behind the sports complex and the dog park.
There are 11 miles of trails over and across the Reedy River, through wetlands teeming with plants, birds and animals. The heavy intoxicating scent of honeysuckle, wild rose and blooming privet fills the air.
I take the Raccoon Run near the dog park. It is a well marked tunnel through much green bushes and trees at first along the sides of a steep red mud bank. I come upon a rock floor and then a field and we find a platter sized turtle in the gravel road. At the top of the rolling ridge, I find more rolling ridges and so we turn back again. I find later that the Raccoon Run is a loop that would have taken me to Flat Tail trail where I go now.
From the big entrance saying "Lake Conestee Park", you can look down through the woods and see a bridge over the Reedy River. To the left is a sand beach where people take their dogs to swim. It is on the near side of the river, so you must take a turn off to the left before the bridge to get there.
I go through Heron Circle, take Possum trail and go to the left at a spot where going forward is blocked.
This is Flat Tail. I find West Bay Observation Deck see before me. Surely this is the Garden of Eden.
Great Blue flies up into one of the dead trees above a lush sea of Broad Leaf Arrowhead plant (also called Duck Potato), American Black Elderberry, Wild Blue Irises, the Primrose plant which will bloom next month, grasses.
I have met Beverly and her red dog, Lily. She becomes my guide. She and her husband have hiked here for many years and worry about the influx of people who will come when a connection to the Swamp Rabbit Trail is completed from downtown Greenville. She tells me how to cross the river again and circle around to the Bird Nest. This is a high deck over the wetlands where we can look out again and see what grows and moves. Here you could see a variety of ducks, perhaps even the Great Egret, a Kingfisher, a Green Heron, an American Bittern and many of the 200 species of birds spotted in the past year by the Greenville Bird Watchers Club. Recently 82 species were seen on bird count day.
Going back, Great Blue flies up in front of me, so close I can hear the slow flap if his wings. From Flat Tail, I take Heron Circle, Woodie Walk and then bear to the left to cross the big bridge again.
"It is almost like falling in love."
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
May 5, 2015 Bald Eagle Fledgling and the Indian Drifter
On the porch of the log cabin office are elderly ladies and volunteers. As this is the county my mother hailed from (as they used to say), I am familiar with these ladies from my childhood. They are of pale white skin that they have always covered with hats. They have neat gray curly permed hair and they rock gently in rocking chairs after a long day of canning and cooking and feeding the family.
I ask about the Bald Eagles, if the chicks are in the nest beside the wide rocky Catawba River. "There is one ", says the volunteer, "That one is still staying in the nest, cuddling deep down". If I am lucky, I might see him move or a parent return to the nest. The Rocky Shoals Tiger Lilies are not blooming yet. It will be one or two more weeks, but their long iris-like stems are waving from the rocks.
The eagle nest is to the right, down the Thread Trail. You go past two benches (not picnic tables). Far out on the rocks I see Great Blue, so tall that his neck is curved twice. A yellow Goldfinch perches on a branch beside me. I pass a lonely fisherman on the bank, then I meet Frank Ross and his Dad, James, from Rock Hill with their little dog.
They come here often and know the eagles. There is a little turnoff near the nest and Frank points out the nest of sticks and branches high up in a tall pine. With my binoculars I can see the chick moving for a moment. Frank takes me off trail to the foot of the pine. He knows it because it is the only place two large pines stand together. James tells me that once the nest fell down and the eagles replaced it. The pair of eagles came in the 90's and have had their fledglings in February. Frank says he has found many fish bones at the base of the tree.
Back at the parking lot, I find a sparkling red and black motorcycle parked beside my Jeep. It has a leather seat and studded leather saddlebags. Along its brilliant side is the golden image of a Native chief with full headdress. A helmet with leather gloves inside dangles from the handle bars. "Indian Drifter" is emblazoned on the front.
I do not see the rider, but I know he must be the descendant of those who forded the wide river here, those who paddled their canoes down the rivers to Edisto where they built the shell mounds, the ancient conservators of this land which once belonged only to God.
I ask about the Bald Eagles, if the chicks are in the nest beside the wide rocky Catawba River. "There is one ", says the volunteer, "That one is still staying in the nest, cuddling deep down". If I am lucky, I might see him move or a parent return to the nest. The Rocky Shoals Tiger Lilies are not blooming yet. It will be one or two more weeks, but their long iris-like stems are waving from the rocks.
The eagle nest is to the right, down the Thread Trail. You go past two benches (not picnic tables). Far out on the rocks I see Great Blue, so tall that his neck is curved twice. A yellow Goldfinch perches on a branch beside me. I pass a lonely fisherman on the bank, then I meet Frank Ross and his Dad, James, from Rock Hill with their little dog.
They come here often and know the eagles. There is a little turnoff near the nest and Frank points out the nest of sticks and branches high up in a tall pine. With my binoculars I can see the chick moving for a moment. Frank takes me off trail to the foot of the pine. He knows it because it is the only place two large pines stand together. James tells me that once the nest fell down and the eagles replaced it. The pair of eagles came in the 90's and have had their fledglings in February. Frank says he has found many fish bones at the base of the tree.
Back at the parking lot, I find a sparkling red and black motorcycle parked beside my Jeep. It has a leather seat and studded leather saddlebags. Along its brilliant side is the golden image of a Native chief with full headdress. A helmet with leather gloves inside dangles from the handle bars. "Indian Drifter" is emblazoned on the front.
I do not see the rider, but I know he must be the descendant of those who forded the wide river here, those who paddled their canoes down the rivers to Edisto where they built the shell mounds, the ancient conservators of this land which once belonged only to God.
May 5, 2015 N.R. Goodale State Park. The Story of the Star Maiden
Past the Arrant Community Center, the road goes down to the park office and across an expanse of grass, and before you is the startling sight of a wide lake studded with blooming white waterlilies and beyond that the submerged trunks of cypress trees with delicate green leafed branches high above.
As the Native American story goes, there was once a young boy who slept outside under the trees and the starry sky. A star appeared to alight in the tree's branches and to the boy's surprise, a beautiful maiden stepped down from the star.
She told him she was so enthralled with the beauty of the earth that she wished to take another form and come down from the heavens to reside on earth forever. The boy ran to the elders and told his story. The elders told him to let her know that she should come to earth as a flower.
The next morning, the boy awoke to find the lake strung with hundreds of white waterlilies. The maiden and her star sisters had come to earth to live forever in white blossoms floating on the clear water.
There is a 3.5 mile canoe and kayak trail in the cypress swamp where alligators reside. The trail is called Big Pine Tree Creek Canoe Trail, but the lake is Adams Grist Mill Lake. Canoes, Kayaks and a fishing boat can be rented for $7.00 for a half day and $12.00 for a full day. There are 3 kayaks and 6 canoes and one fishing boat. Colleen and John kayaked here often before James was born.
I took the 1.7 mile trail which runs off to the left behind the rental boats. This is a great trail which becomes a loop. It's surface is white sand, pine needles and leaves. The forest is shady all along the way with a ground cover of new green ferns.
This park was dedicated in 1952 as a Kershaw County Park of 2,000 acres. It's history can be read on a monument of pink granite from Flat Rock. The park was donated to the State Park System in 1973. R.N. Goodale was a local florist and civic leader in nearby Camden.
The park was actually closed today as far as the office being open, but fortunately, a ranger appeared carrying my phone which had been found close by.
I came to Goodale from Columbia taking I-77 North, the I-20 towards Camden (exit 98), passed the Revolutionary War Park on Broad St, the Robert Mills Court house and then right on DeKalb for 3 miles, right again on Stagecoach Rd. and shortly the park is on the right. Of course, from Charlotte, one way would be to take I-77 South and then I-20.
George Washing to came to Camden on Mary 25, 1791 and proclaimed that "Camden is a small place. It was much injured by the British whilst in their possession". (for 11 months in 1780).
There is no camping and no cabins at Goodale, and the office is closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, but you can bring your own canoe, kayak or fishing boat, your own gear, your own picnic.
As the Native American story goes, there was once a young boy who slept outside under the trees and the starry sky. A star appeared to alight in the tree's branches and to the boy's surprise, a beautiful maiden stepped down from the star.
She told him she was so enthralled with the beauty of the earth that she wished to take another form and come down from the heavens to reside on earth forever. The boy ran to the elders and told his story. The elders told him to let her know that she should come to earth as a flower.
The next morning, the boy awoke to find the lake strung with hundreds of white waterlilies. The maiden and her star sisters had come to earth to live forever in white blossoms floating on the clear water.
There is a 3.5 mile canoe and kayak trail in the cypress swamp where alligators reside. The trail is called Big Pine Tree Creek Canoe Trail, but the lake is Adams Grist Mill Lake. Canoes, Kayaks and a fishing boat can be rented for $7.00 for a half day and $12.00 for a full day. There are 3 kayaks and 6 canoes and one fishing boat. Colleen and John kayaked here often before James was born.
I took the 1.7 mile trail which runs off to the left behind the rental boats. This is a great trail which becomes a loop. It's surface is white sand, pine needles and leaves. The forest is shady all along the way with a ground cover of new green ferns.
This park was dedicated in 1952 as a Kershaw County Park of 2,000 acres. It's history can be read on a monument of pink granite from Flat Rock. The park was donated to the State Park System in 1973. R.N. Goodale was a local florist and civic leader in nearby Camden.
The park was actually closed today as far as the office being open, but fortunately, a ranger appeared carrying my phone which had been found close by.
I came to Goodale from Columbia taking I-77 North, the I-20 towards Camden (exit 98), passed the Revolutionary War Park on Broad St, the Robert Mills Court house and then right on DeKalb for 3 miles, right again on Stagecoach Rd. and shortly the park is on the right. Of course, from Charlotte, one way would be to take I-77 South and then I-20.
George Washing to came to Camden on Mary 25, 1791 and proclaimed that "Camden is a small place. It was much injured by the British whilst in their possession". (for 11 months in 1780).
There is no camping and no cabins at Goodale, and the office is closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, but you can bring your own canoe, kayak or fishing boat, your own gear, your own picnic.
Monday, May 4, 2015
May 3, 2015 Hardtimes at Bent Creek
It is colder in the mountains, but so clear that you can see individual trees, small cottages, layer upon pastel blue and violet layers of rolling peaks into the pale horizon.
Turn off I-26 West at exit 33 onto hwy 191 (Brevard Rd), go past the Outlet Mall, past Discount Shoes and Celebrity Hot Dogs on the right and Possum Trot Rd on the left . Across from Beth Shalom Cemetery there will be a sign for Lake Powatan Bent Creek National Forrest Recreational Area. turn right for 2.3 miles through little Stormy Ridge Neighborhood. On the right is a road to Rice Pinacle Trail Head, then on the left is a very small parking lot (probably filled with cars) for the Hardtimes Trail Head,then the entrance to Lake Powatan ($2.00 per person fee). This is part of the Pisgah Forest.
There are at least 5 trails. You can get a map at the entrance. I take a left toward the "beach and fishing" area and a woman at Parking Lot A tells me that the trail here called Homestead goes around to the beach area of the lake and is quite beautiful. She is right. It is a lovely trail along the edges of the lake and over bridges crossing Bent Creek, often through tunnels of rhodadenron whose new buds have not yet opened. There is indeed a beach and later I come upon Hardtimes Rd. By instinct, I take a left there and it takes me all the way around the lake to the fishing pier and back to to the parking lot. The air is full of the sweet and fetid fragrance of eleagnes, the tiny white flowers blooming in bushes all along the banks of the lake. Wild white roses peek out from the sides of the road.
I try a second trail called "Deerfield Loop". You find this trail by driving straight from the entrance to a parking lot which is high up over the beach area. There is a restroom here just down the trail towards the beach. Deerfield Loop is accessed from the road from the entrance. This trail loops around a high ridge above a tiny stream. Indeed at the crest, there is a meadow, which must be the deer field. Soon there is the entrance to Pine Tree Trail and then below that an arrow to Small Creek. At the arrow to Small Creek, you must take a left to complete the Deerfield loop.
The trails here are reached from one trail to another.
Besides Homestead, Deerfield and Pine Tree, there are Explorer (3 mi) and Sleepy Gap/Graggy Mountain (1 /34 mi). There are often mountain bikers, runners and hikers along the way. There could be a deer or a bear, but I saw none.
Deep in the forest, mountain azaleas are blooming, their orange sun colored blossoms reaching up from tall branches on spindly trunks.
Wildfires are burning somewhere in the Pisgah Forest. Oddly, the air is still clear.
Leaving, going down the mountain, I find I am behind and then in front of a huge truck whose load is marked "explosives".
Around and back we go until I outdistance him on the Saluda Grade. There are turnoffs here for trucks that lose their brakes.
I am listening to Bob Dylan singing: "I Threw It All Away".
I once held her in my arms
She said she would always stay
But I was cruel
I treated her like a fool
I threw it all away
Once I held mountains in the palm of my hand
And rivers that ran through every day.
I must have been mad
I never knew what I had
Until I threw it all away.
Love is all there is, it makes the world go round
Love and only love, it can't be denied.
No matter what you think about it,
You just won't be able to live without it
Take a tip from one who's tried.
So if you find someone that gives you all of her love,
Take it to your heart, don't let it stray.
For one thing that's certain
You will surely be a hurtin'
If you throw it all away.
Turn off I-26 West at exit 33 onto hwy 191 (Brevard Rd), go past the Outlet Mall, past Discount Shoes and Celebrity Hot Dogs on the right and Possum Trot Rd on the left . Across from Beth Shalom Cemetery there will be a sign for Lake Powatan Bent Creek National Forrest Recreational Area. turn right for 2.3 miles through little Stormy Ridge Neighborhood. On the right is a road to Rice Pinacle Trail Head, then on the left is a very small parking lot (probably filled with cars) for the Hardtimes Trail Head,then the entrance to Lake Powatan ($2.00 per person fee). This is part of the Pisgah Forest.
There are at least 5 trails. You can get a map at the entrance. I take a left toward the "beach and fishing" area and a woman at Parking Lot A tells me that the trail here called Homestead goes around to the beach area of the lake and is quite beautiful. She is right. It is a lovely trail along the edges of the lake and over bridges crossing Bent Creek, often through tunnels of rhodadenron whose new buds have not yet opened. There is indeed a beach and later I come upon Hardtimes Rd. By instinct, I take a left there and it takes me all the way around the lake to the fishing pier and back to to the parking lot. The air is full of the sweet and fetid fragrance of eleagnes, the tiny white flowers blooming in bushes all along the banks of the lake. Wild white roses peek out from the sides of the road.
I try a second trail called "Deerfield Loop". You find this trail by driving straight from the entrance to a parking lot which is high up over the beach area. There is a restroom here just down the trail towards the beach. Deerfield Loop is accessed from the road from the entrance. This trail loops around a high ridge above a tiny stream. Indeed at the crest, there is a meadow, which must be the deer field. Soon there is the entrance to Pine Tree Trail and then below that an arrow to Small Creek. At the arrow to Small Creek, you must take a left to complete the Deerfield loop.
The trails here are reached from one trail to another.
Besides Homestead, Deerfield and Pine Tree, there are Explorer (3 mi) and Sleepy Gap/Graggy Mountain (1 /34 mi). There are often mountain bikers, runners and hikers along the way. There could be a deer or a bear, but I saw none.
Deep in the forest, mountain azaleas are blooming, their orange sun colored blossoms reaching up from tall branches on spindly trunks.
Wildfires are burning somewhere in the Pisgah Forest. Oddly, the air is still clear.
Leaving, going down the mountain, I find I am behind and then in front of a huge truck whose load is marked "explosives".
Around and back we go until I outdistance him on the Saluda Grade. There are turnoffs here for trucks that lose their brakes.
I am listening to Bob Dylan singing: "I Threw It All Away".
I once held her in my arms
She said she would always stay
But I was cruel
I treated her like a fool
I threw it all away
Once I held mountains in the palm of my hand
And rivers that ran through every day.
I must have been mad
I never knew what I had
Until I threw it all away.
Love is all there is, it makes the world go round
Love and only love, it can't be denied.
No matter what you think about it,
You just won't be able to live without it
Take a tip from one who's tried.
So if you find someone that gives you all of her love,
Take it to your heart, don't let it stray.
For one thing that's certain
You will surely be a hurtin'
If you throw it all away.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
April 28,2015 The Rocky Branch Natural Area at Little Mountain, SC
On a cool blue day, I headed for Lynch's Wood at Newberry only to find it closed for repair of bridges. A Police Department employee told me that there was a good trail down SC 76 at the small town of Little Mountain. I followed the Georgia Pacific Railway East through Prosperity, past fields of green, of blue and of yellow wild flowers and stopped at the Little Mountain Unlimited Antique Mall for directions. The clerk there knew nothing of a trail, but a handsome man with a lisp appeared and told me to continue on 76 (Main St), pass the Citgo Station on the right and then the big church (Lutheran) and turn right on Mountain St. Shortly, AME Zion church is on the left and then a turn to the left and the park is on the left. (There is a sign at Main and Mountain).
There in the woods is a picnic shelter with table, restrooms and a memorial to Roxie Koon Derrick "In Appreciation for her loving and generous spirit whose desire is to share this wonderful place with present and future generations. The town of Little Mountain and its Citizens." November 2012.
The trail is a dirt road down the hill (it may be the little mountain of the town's name) and then up a hill again.
Down to the left, the gleaming pewter surface of a pool of the branch is visible. Butterflies and dragonflies flitter around me. The path is a loop with benches here and there and two wooden porches built into the side of the little mountain where you can sit and look down into the forest below. The trail eventually loops back to the picnic shelter.
Again I visited the Antique store and the same man told me that "Roxanne" of the trail is still alive and owns a gas station in town. This is the biggest antique store I have ever visited. It is full of pink depression glass, china, pottery, Citadel and Boy Scourt uniforms, Barbie dolls, linens, wreaths made from cotton plants, bird houses, iron skillets, portraits of generals A.P. Hill and George Meade who met at Gettysburg, a sign says "Fresh Eggs" and another boasts a cafe in the basement. Also down below are beautifully restored antique cars, a truck and even a tractor. Beside the cafe is a set up for a live band with keyboard, drums, guitars.
The clerk tells me that this building was once a mercantile store, but was turned into the antique store about seven years ago.
In old Irish stories and in most of the world's mythology, dragonflies and butterflies are considered a glimpse of the ephemeral and transient, a fire like presence of the spirit or soul with the ability to cross into the other world.
Little Mountain can be reached from I-26 or from SC 76. It is 8 miles East of Newberry and just West of Chapin.
There in the woods is a picnic shelter with table, restrooms and a memorial to Roxie Koon Derrick "In Appreciation for her loving and generous spirit whose desire is to share this wonderful place with present and future generations. The town of Little Mountain and its Citizens." November 2012.
The trail is a dirt road down the hill (it may be the little mountain of the town's name) and then up a hill again.
Down to the left, the gleaming pewter surface of a pool of the branch is visible. Butterflies and dragonflies flitter around me. The path is a loop with benches here and there and two wooden porches built into the side of the little mountain where you can sit and look down into the forest below. The trail eventually loops back to the picnic shelter.
Again I visited the Antique store and the same man told me that "Roxanne" of the trail is still alive and owns a gas station in town. This is the biggest antique store I have ever visited. It is full of pink depression glass, china, pottery, Citadel and Boy Scourt uniforms, Barbie dolls, linens, wreaths made from cotton plants, bird houses, iron skillets, portraits of generals A.P. Hill and George Meade who met at Gettysburg, a sign says "Fresh Eggs" and another boasts a cafe in the basement. Also down below are beautifully restored antique cars, a truck and even a tractor. Beside the cafe is a set up for a live band with keyboard, drums, guitars.
The clerk tells me that this building was once a mercantile store, but was turned into the antique store about seven years ago.
In old Irish stories and in most of the world's mythology, dragonflies and butterflies are considered a glimpse of the ephemeral and transient, a fire like presence of the spirit or soul with the ability to cross into the other world.
Little Mountain can be reached from I-26 or from SC 76. It is 8 miles East of Newberry and just West of Chapin.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
April 14, 2015 Greenwood State Park: Terra Emeralda
There is just a short nature trail here, a loop behind camp ground number 1. It is raining and warm as I enter a green world. Emerald, sage, vert, verdigris, malachite, beryl, aquamarine, chartreuse, lime, kelly, olive, Mittler's green, Prussian green, bronze green, Lincoln green,yellow green, grass green, forest green, spinach green, moss green, pine green, Nile green, jade, viridian. I am in Terra Emeralda, the trees fleshed out with new leaves, the ground covered with new green muscadine vines. The light filtered through the dark clouds illuminates this verdant world. I search the roots of fallen trees for arrowheads and find only a large brown frog. I can imagine the early settlers of the town of Greenwood naming this place "green wood".
The birds sing: jeepers, jeepers, jimmy, jimmy, leave her, leave her, we do it, we do it, like the motto of the CCC who built the structures in 1938, "We can take it". There is a small fishing pier with names carved on its rails: " Aika, Jason, Zornies were here." Picnic tables are nearby. The lake is as green as the woods.
I visit the Drummond Center and the Ranger takes me to open the doors onto the stone terrace and an astonishing view of the lake. The is a small photographic museum here devoted to the State Parks, the CCC and the people who had lived on the land as share croppers or owners.
I came up from Columbia on I-26 West, took exit 74 onto highway 34 through Newberry and continued 25 miles over Bush River, Beaver Dam Creek, Little River and the green Saluda. There are blue, purple, pink and white ragged robins in the fields, red clover, then through the little town of Silver Street and took a right on hwy 702, then two miles to the park. Near the entrance, there is a "Grand Daddy Greybeard" in full bloom, dripping a beard of white blossoms.
Leaving, I continued on 702 until I saw a sign that said a Piggley Wiggley was 3 miles down Wilson Bridge Road on a sharp left. Turned left on Cambridge Road which took me immediately to the Piggley Wiggley in the town of Ninety Six. Here I visited the D and L Flower Shop in an old building, next door to Linda's Then Again and in front of Hairidice Styling Salon.
I went back on Cambridge Rd (246) until I met hwy 72 which took me through the edge of Greenwood and over the lake. I had lunch looking out over the water at the Subway in the Sunoco Gas Station, the best Subway view in the world, where a man sailed up in his small boat, cut off his Evinrude and mounted the steps to the Subway (just like driving up in a car) and got his bag lunch to go back into the boat.
Hwy 72 continues on to Clinton where I took Hwy 56 which crosses I-26 again. The sun is breaking out though the big white clouds as I arrive home.
The birds sing: jeepers, jeepers, jimmy, jimmy, leave her, leave her, we do it, we do it, like the motto of the CCC who built the structures in 1938, "We can take it". There is a small fishing pier with names carved on its rails: " Aika, Jason, Zornies were here." Picnic tables are nearby. The lake is as green as the woods.
I visit the Drummond Center and the Ranger takes me to open the doors onto the stone terrace and an astonishing view of the lake. The is a small photographic museum here devoted to the State Parks, the CCC and the people who had lived on the land as share croppers or owners.
I came up from Columbia on I-26 West, took exit 74 onto highway 34 through Newberry and continued 25 miles over Bush River, Beaver Dam Creek, Little River and the green Saluda. There are blue, purple, pink and white ragged robins in the fields, red clover, then through the little town of Silver Street and took a right on hwy 702, then two miles to the park. Near the entrance, there is a "Grand Daddy Greybeard" in full bloom, dripping a beard of white blossoms.
Leaving, I continued on 702 until I saw a sign that said a Piggley Wiggley was 3 miles down Wilson Bridge Road on a sharp left. Turned left on Cambridge Road which took me immediately to the Piggley Wiggley in the town of Ninety Six. Here I visited the D and L Flower Shop in an old building, next door to Linda's Then Again and in front of Hairidice Styling Salon.
I went back on Cambridge Rd (246) until I met hwy 72 which took me through the edge of Greenwood and over the lake. I had lunch looking out over the water at the Subway in the Sunoco Gas Station, the best Subway view in the world, where a man sailed up in his small boat, cut off his Evinrude and mounted the steps to the Subway (just like driving up in a car) and got his bag lunch to go back into the boat.
Hwy 72 continues on to Clinton where I took Hwy 56 which crosses I-26 again. The sun is breaking out though the big white clouds as I arrive home.
Monday, April 13, 2015
April 12, 2015 Woodruff Greenway , Wild Pink Dogwood and Poke Salat
I am driving 221 (Church St. in Spartanburg, Main St in Woodruff) listening to Jose Feliciano playing and singing "You Were Always on My Mind" from his new album, "The King".
Past dogwoods and violet wisteria, 221 joins 146 when you bear to the left after the old downtown. All is quiet as the good people of Woodruff are all at their places of worship in the early dawn. Turn left at the Baptist Church. On the right is the high school, then on the left is the Junior High. There is no sign, no indication of the trail, so drive into the far end of the parking lot and walk down to the Theo Atheletic field.
Behind the bleachers the trail goes downhill to a series of two bridges over a clear stream.
Violets and ferns grow on the banks.
River birches stand tall. Out in the hardwood forest, stands a wild pink dogwood, the first wild pink one I have ever seen. My mother said long ago, my grandfather had found one out in the woods down home and tagged it with a red strip of cloth to dig it up in the Fall, but someone else got it first.
The tender green shoots of Poke Salat are spouting up near fallen logs.
The trail is an out and back just under a mile long. It ends (or begins) at the Woodruff Leisure Center where I meet a Dad and his two boys who tell me that this lovely walk is nearly always deserted. There is a plan to extend this trail.
If you follow 146 West, you will eventually leave the old small town and in about 20 minutes, find yourself in the cosmopolitan crash of the big shopping venue of Greenville. Out of the past and into the future.
Poke Salat Annie by Tony Joe White:
"If some of yall.......
Down in Louisanna where the alligators grow so mean
There lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame
Poke salat Annie, Poke salat Annie
Everybody said it was a shame
Cause her mama was working on the chain gang
(a mean, vicious woman)
Everyday 'fore supppertime she'd go down by the truck patch
And pick her a mess of Poke salat
And carry it home in a tote sack.
Poke salat Annie, 'Gators got you Granny
Everybody said it was a shame..
Cause her mama was working on the chain gang.
Lord have mercy, pick a mess of it...
Her daddy was lazy and no count,
Claimed he had a bad back.
All her brothers were fit for was stealin
Watermelons out of my truck patch
Sock a little Poke salat to me, you know I need it.
Poke salat Annie.
Past dogwoods and violet wisteria, 221 joins 146 when you bear to the left after the old downtown. All is quiet as the good people of Woodruff are all at their places of worship in the early dawn. Turn left at the Baptist Church. On the right is the high school, then on the left is the Junior High. There is no sign, no indication of the trail, so drive into the far end of the parking lot and walk down to the Theo Atheletic field.
Behind the bleachers the trail goes downhill to a series of two bridges over a clear stream.
Violets and ferns grow on the banks.
River birches stand tall. Out in the hardwood forest, stands a wild pink dogwood, the first wild pink one I have ever seen. My mother said long ago, my grandfather had found one out in the woods down home and tagged it with a red strip of cloth to dig it up in the Fall, but someone else got it first.
The tender green shoots of Poke Salat are spouting up near fallen logs.
The trail is an out and back just under a mile long. It ends (or begins) at the Woodruff Leisure Center where I meet a Dad and his two boys who tell me that this lovely walk is nearly always deserted. There is a plan to extend this trail.
If you follow 146 West, you will eventually leave the old small town and in about 20 minutes, find yourself in the cosmopolitan crash of the big shopping venue of Greenville. Out of the past and into the future.
Poke Salat Annie by Tony Joe White:
"If some of yall.......
Down in Louisanna where the alligators grow so mean
There lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame
Poke salat Annie, Poke salat Annie
Everybody said it was a shame
Cause her mama was working on the chain gang
(a mean, vicious woman)
Everyday 'fore supppertime she'd go down by the truck patch
And pick her a mess of Poke salat
And carry it home in a tote sack.
Poke salat Annie, 'Gators got you Granny
Everybody said it was a shame..
Cause her mama was working on the chain gang.
Lord have mercy, pick a mess of it...
Her daddy was lazy and no count,
Claimed he had a bad back.
All her brothers were fit for was stealin
Watermelons out of my truck patch
Sock a little Poke salat to me, you know I need it.
Poke salat Annie.
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