Jan 302014
 

On the advice of a neighbor, I finally decided it was time to experience dawn along Piney Woods Church Road.  I knew it would not offer prospects as spectacular as sunset, because the eastern side of the road is almost entirely wooded.  Still, I had high hopes for a grove of pines to be illuminated briefly (though this never happened).  So I dutifully made my way there (across a neighbor’s horse pasture, this being the fastest route) before 8 am, a few minutes past sunrise.  For an hour, I wandered the Hutcheson Ferry end of the road, photographing the rural landscape in the morning light.  I noticed a few things about that golden hour as the sun rose slowly in the sky:  first, that there was a stillness to the air; second, that it was rather cold; and third, that I live near the world’s busiest airport, as evidenced by a series of airplanes crossing the sky.  All three of these realizations are contained, to some extent, within the photograph below.  After nearly an hour of waiting and watching (toes and fingers growing numb), I saw my neighbor at the head of his driveway.  He wandered over, mug of steaming coffee in hand, to politely inquire if I was aware that it was currently eight degrees Fahrenheit, according to his outdoor thermometer.  Suddenly I felt much, much colder.  My next sunrise may be a few months away yet.

After Dawn, Eight Degrees

Jan 292014
 

Today remained cold, and our car remained garaged.  In the late afternoon, I set out to explore the local landscape, in search of snowy scenes to photograph — an opportunity that comes to Piedmont Georgia once every few years at most.  My tranquil surroundings felt so far removed from all the scenes of highway gridlock around Atlanta last night and today, with drivers stuck in their cars for tens of hours, struggling to get home.  I was already home, and at home, in the comfortable countryside of Piney Woods Church Road.  This photograph captures the mood well — a pastoral scene with winter trees and fields, with a horse peacefully feeding on hay in the foreground.

A Winter Pastoral

Jan 272014
 

This time of year in Georgia, unless it snows (which may happen tomorrow!), the landscape takes on a dull, sere, gray-brown appearance.  The eye yearns for splashes of color.  Some of the plants oblige with still-green leaves, such as water oaks and greenbriers.  For yellows, there are the pine warblers, when one happens to catch a glimpse of one.  For purples and reds, there is always the possibility of another sunset.  For blues, there is the sky.  And, occasionally, there are bluebirds.

This is an accidental photograph; I am not a wildlife photographer.  Still, this time of year there is so little changing along Piney Woods Church Road (apart from the weather, that is), that I eagerly photograph anything that moves on wings or feet.  Whenever I see a bird perch on a fence (which usually happens when the plus four macro is screwed onto my camera lens, preventing me from zooming until I remove it) I quickly try to take a photo, without really thinking about composition or light or anything but whether or not the bird will fly before I zoom, focus, and snap the shutter.  Usually, I get but one image, and rarely two.  It is as if the birds know I am trying to photograph them, and dash away.  That happened today — I saw a distant bird alight on a barbed wire fence, I zoomed in, took the photo, and the bird flew off.  I thought nothing more of it until I returned home, reviewed the photographs on Picasa 3, and discovered my subject was a lone bluebird, against a nearly monochromatic background.  Beautiful.

Lone Bluebird

Jan 222014
 

Another shot of arctic air arrived yesterday, and this morning it was twenty-five degrees, with a light breeze.  Bare hands became partially numb after just four or five photographs.  It was a day for admiring Mark Hirsch, who photographed an old burr oak tree in a pasture every day of the year, including on days that were bitterly cold by Wisconsin standards, not Georgia ones.  Adapting to the cold, I have identified a few images I have been taking practically every day, and for the next few days I will focus on each one of them in turn.  Today, I drove to the midway point of Piney Woods Church Road, to photograph some old pecan trees, some of which actually appear on an aerial photograph of the area back in 1938,making them probably 100 years or more in age.  The most grizzled veteran stands in one of the pastures, and merits its own photograph, which I will take sometime soon.  For today, though, I offer the image of bare tree branches, reaching for the sky.

Reaching for the Sky

 

Jan 192014
 

On yet another clear, breezy winter day, I set out with a longing to immerse myself in green things.  I photographed moss and leaves, mostly using my plus ten macro lens.  While walking the road, I struggled with feeling that I was running out of things to photograph, wondering how I could keep going until the first spring flowers come into bloom (most likely the daffodils in mid-February).  Yet, coming home, I discovered quite a few intriguing shots.  Most captivating of all, from my point of view, is this image of a barbed wire fence illumined by the afternoon sun, with two black cows beyond, sparring in play.  Who knows how much longer the three young cows in that pasture will remain there, before being sent away…..

Beyond the Fence

Jan 132014
 

On a warmish and grayish morning, I set out to see what I could find happening along Piney Woods Church Road.  I re-took several photographs whose images will likely appear in this blog sometime this year — resurrection ferns, lichens, and an endless array of leaves, vines, and stalks of winter weeds.  I photographed the ripple marks in the rut at the end of the road again — the water has mostly dried up, although additional rain is expected overnight.  In the end, though, I did not choose any of those subjects for today.  Instead, I offer this white cow in a field most of the way toward Rico Road.  It lounged in the field like a cow sculpture, not even moving (or blinking, as far as I could see) while I wandered by and snapped several photos.  What was it thinking as it gazed at me?

The Thinker

Jan 052014
 

Yet another gray-sky afternoon, but much milder than yesterday — I delighted in the warm (mid-50’s), moist air that is the precursor to an arctic front expected to sweep through Georgia overnight, bringing rain turning to snow by Monday morning.  I spent my time along Piney Woods Church Road mostly experimenting with my macro lenses.  My favorite shot of the day contained, yet again, a cow, though it plays a cameo role in the background.  I am weaning myself slowly from cows.  Tomorrow, I promise myself, will be a cow-free day.

Winter Weed (and Cow)

 

Jan 042014
 

I set out under leaden skies to see what I could discover along Piney Woods Church Road.  The forecast promised 45 degrees, but I had to settle for 35 instead.  The light was muted, the sky almost oppressive; it truly felt like rain (or even snow) was on its way.   “No more cows,” I promised myself.  I had joked with my wife yesterday after posting my cow photograph that it might be possible to do 365 different cow photographs across a year.  I sincerely promise my readers that I won’t do that.  I took quite a few macro photographs of lichens, moss and leaves, and some intriguing abstract images through tangles of greenbrier.  Still, after wading through the over sixty photos I took today, the cow clearly topped the list.  I suppose one could say that he won by a nose.

Landscape with Cow Nose

 

Jan 032014
 

It was a cold day by Georgia standards, with the temperature just a couple degrees above freezing, though without the harsh wind of yesterday afternoon.  Ice had formed along the edges of the ditch beside Piney Church Road.  The sky was deep blue, the sunset less than spectacular, but a delight to see anyway, after so many cloudy days of late.  While waiting for the sunset, I hung out with some cows who were at least as curious about me as I was about them.  I could see their breath in the late afternoon air.

A Cold Day for Cows

Dec 302013
 
Barbed wire emerges from tree stump, Little Mulberry Park.  26 Dec. 2013

Barbed wire emerges from tree stump, Little Mulberry Park. 26 Dec. 2013

Mid 20th Century stacked rock piles, Madison County, North Carolina.  From Early Georgia article by Thomas Gresham (1990).

Mid 20th Century stacked rock piles, Madison County, North Carolina. From Early Georgia article by Thomas Gresham (1990).

What do the stone piles of Little Mulberry Park in Gwinnett County have to tell us about the past history of the area?  If they are not prehistoric burial and ritual sites, what other possibilities remain?  In this final blog post in my series about this stone mounds, I will explore another explanation for their origin, one that relates them to the past agricultural history of the area.  Evidence that the land was once open pasture can be found in the large pasture trees that follow former fence lines (see my post from 12/28 for an example), and bits of barbed wire that emerge from old tree stumps in the park.

But why would settlers choose to pile up rocks on the property in the first place?  Patrick Garrow, the archaeologist who did the initial investigation of the site in 1988, argued that the stone piles locations and structure argued against the stones having been piled up by farmers clearing the ground for planting.  Indeed, since the land was never tilled but only used for pasture, that explanation seems unlikely.  Perhaps the farmers wanted to clear the ground so that there would be more graze for their animals, or so that the animals would be less likely to injure themselves?  Why, then, go to the trouble of stacking the rocks?

It is the fact that the rocks were stacked which convinces many people that the mounds are evidence of a prehistoric origin.  Clearly, someone (or someones, plural) went to considerable effort to place the rocks in layers that can still be seen today.  In fact, as archaeologist Thomas Gresham argued in an Early Georgia article in 1990, southern farmers have stacked rocks into cylindrical piles like these within recent history.  In his paper, entitled, “Historic Patterns of Rock Piling and Rock Pile Problems”, Gresham included photographs of such rock piles.  Before 1940, Gresham explained, flat rock and flagstone quarrying in Georgia was “small scale, localized, and done by hand.”  Stones found close to the surface of the ground would be pried up with crowbars, sorted, and stacked for temporary storage until being sold for use building chimneys, terraces, foundations, and steps.  Why, then, would so many such stone piles have survived in Little Mulberry Park?  Perhaps, Gresham proposed, the stone proved inferior for use, and did not sell, or there was some other event that prevented a sale from going forward, or alternative building materials (such as brick) become widely available and prevented the stone from being sold.

Beyond the documented historic occurrence of such piles on North Carolina farms, is there other evidence to support the idea that the structures are historic stone piles rather than prehistoric Indian mounds?   In fact, there is archaeological evidence to support this idea.  In 1995, Thomas Gresham excavated eight stone piles at the Little Mulberry Park site.  He found no prehistoric artifacts, but he did unearth early 19th century artifacts (ceramics, glass, and metal, including an 1838 penny) beneath two of the piles, conclusively showing that both were constructed in historic times.  During the excavation, Gresham’s team also found evidence of a former small-scale rock quarry in the vicinity of the piles, lending further credence to the idea that stone was being cleared from the land and stockpiled in the area.

Ultimately, we will probably never know for certain what cultural forces shaped the stone piles at Little Mulberry Park.  In my own explorations, both on-ground and via the Internet, I am satisfied that the piles are not prehistoric at all, but were built by settlers gathering field stone for future construction efforts.  I suspect that this explanation will be less than satisfactory to many who have visited the park or who read enthusiastically about Mysteries from the Past.  There is a certain allure in thinking that the stone mounds were constructed by Native Americans thousands of years ago as part of a mysterious ritual.  Many human beings are hungry for the sacred, and find solace in the mythical prospect of a distant time when people lived in harmony with nature, leading lives deeply connected to their communities and to the forces animating the cosmos.  To say that the stone piles are actually Indian mounds is, I will admit, a much more enticing story.  And maybe that is why the information sign at the park, rather than proposing several different theories behind the stone structures, instead declares to this day that they are “almost certainly associated with native american cultures.”