|Crooked River, Georgia|
When I climbed into the camper van two months ago, I'd not been away from home for more than a week in 20-odd years. I knew I wanted to see more of this country of ours; I didn't know if I'd get bored with it.
Just when I begin to think it might maybe be a possibility, I turn another corner, to see something beautiful - unlike all the other beautiful places I've see so far on this trip.
Crooked River was one such place - when I picked it out, it was a handy stopping point between here and there. No mountains or oceans, my expectations of the park were low.
Then, I pulled in to find a wide river, marshy in the middle. Tall pine trees, with the biggest pine cones I've ever seen spread carelessly about the ground, and with an undergrowth like none I'd ever seen. Not birch or the other northern deciduous trees, but some sort of palm tree - I didn't try wading in for a close look; they looked like they could cut like they mean it if you brush up against them wrong.
The campground was in two parts; one more open with a view of the river; the other part back in the trees.
|Sunset, Crooked River, Georgia|
Sunset. God Is. Amen.