Saturday, June 21, 2014


I've been running up and down the Cherokee Tailrace for the past three days in a row and it gave me time to visit the juvenile bald eagles on the Holston River.  Finally, I've seen both the babies together in the tree at one time. 

As usual, they are harshly back-lighted and any possibility of quality photography is out the window but proof is provided that both are healthy and safe and noisy.  They are shrieking loudly and continuously.
They both are on their way to become prince and princess of the skies for it would take a natural disaster of unimaginable magnitude to prevent their success, or worse - human intervention.  Humans can't be trusted.
And then we have the lost souls of the Cherokee's to think about - those humans from a lost and forgotten era who lived and flourished in and with nature in a bygone day, and who were eradicated by none other than John Sevier, the first governor of Tennessee, then depicted as a hero for ousting the Cherokee Indians from their birthright.  And he was made a governor.
They are neither human or spirit, but captured in a space, a void that will not allow their spirits to complete the journey that was begun.
History shows they were murdered long ago on a beautiful morning along side the Little Tennessee River in East Tennessee in the name of white retaliation for wrong doings by their nation against the progress of pioneers who encroached upon their sacred lands.

They struggled viciously against the onslaught of the white man who took their lands, their homes and destroyed their culture, enslaved many and murdered the rest.

Their shallow graves were covered by the waters of the Little Tennessee River when the dam named Calderwood was erected thereby desecrating their final resting places and condemning their spirits to wander aimlessly along and among the thorn trees that cover the mountainsides of Chilhowee Lake in an endless search for spiritual peace.

Their spirits take on the shapes of the animals they held in high esteem and wander through the high places of Tennessee on their impossible quest for rest and peace.
Heavy stuff that!

On a lighter note, I found the perfect early American fence.  Check this out below:
 This is an outstanding stretch of fence line that exhibits exactly what I want in my yard.
 The only negative thing about it is that it requires a lot of wood to create. 
 But how beautiful the lines of the thing are!
That's it for tonight.  Hope I didn't scare you with the Haint stuff.