Blue and Gold
South Chickamauge
Creek in McLemore Cove.
Pentax 6x7, 105mm
f2.4 Takumar lens, Fujichrome 100 film
(Click to enlarge)
This is the third installment of my article about McLemore Cove, originally
published in Georgia Backroads
Magazine. The first and second parts were posted on my
blog on Monday, December 28th and Wednesday, December 30th.
High on the western side of Pigeon
Mountain is a small enclosed valley --
known in the southern Appalachians as a
"pocket." Someone told us about it not long after we came to the
Cove, and of course, we wanted to see it for ourselves. Driving back along the
gravel road that led to the Pocket, we passed a cornfield, where an old man and
his wife were picking corn. It was Fred "Coon" Hise, then in his 80s,
and his wife Myrtle. We stopped and they came over to talk with us, their arms
full of corn and their faces full of simple goodness. The scene was
overwhelmingly reminiscent of a famous 1930s FSA photograph of an Iowa farmer and his wife
holding the products of their farm. I had my camera; I could have taken the
picture; but somehow, I didn't. I've missed many shots in my career as a
photographer, and some I regret more than others. But this was the one I regret
more than any other. That old couple
defined McLemore Cove people for me, and still does to this day. Some of their
children and grandchildren are our present neighbors and are very like their
ancestors.
McLemore Cove is home to some of the sweetest people
we have ever met. "Sweet" may not be the most appropriate word, but I
can't think of a better one. Cove people are for the most part sweet-natured,
gentle, friendly, and kind.
Of course, like most places, the Cove has a few people
that just don't fit the mold. Chief among them would be George David Queener,
who did not fit anybody's mold. Larger than life, he was one of the most
unforgettable characters I've ever met.
George D. and Jake
Leica M3, 50mm
Summicron lens, Tri-X
George D., as he was usually known, came to the Cove
in 1946, just out of the army, to work at Mountain Cove Farm. He had been a
corporal, and was newly married to Mary Ellen, who was older than he, and had
been, interestingly enough, a lieutenant. George's ambition was to be a
cattleman, and to that end, he told Mary Ellen that he wanted to go to medical
school so he could become a doctor and earn enough money to own cattle. With
her characteristic common sense, she told him, "If you want to be a
cattleman, go work in the cattle business."
Eventually, they were able to acquire a piece of
property and put some cattle on it. Through years of scrimping and saving,
going into debt when necessary to buy more land when it became available, they
in time found themselves owners of the GDQ Ranch, with more than 800 acres and
350 head of purebred Polled Hereford cattle.
George D. and Mary
Ellen. Good Neighbors, good friends.
George D. was considered by many to be a hard man, and
perhaps he was. But he sold us our land, and he was a good neighbor to us. Mary
Ellen was one of the most gracious ladies I've ever known, but George D. was
inclined to get a bit obstreperous now and then. It usually ended when Mary
Ellen looked at him and said, "Now, George D. . ."
I guess he never forgot that she outranked him.
To be continued.
Blog Note: I post Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at
alifeinphotography.blogspot.com. I'm trying to build up my readership, so if
you're reading this on Facebook and like what I write, would you please
consider sharing my posts?
(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins
2020)
Soli Gloria Deo
To the glory of God alone