I don’t know if SEE ROCK CITY is still stenciled in white on black on old red barns along dusty Southern highways.
The old black and white photos weren't arrows, more like anchored arks that floated menageries of tourists to Lookout Mountain to see miniature Fairy Tale Caverns, villages of Mother Goose creatures, a Lover’s Leap with a view that overlooked the borders of seven states on a clear day.
Hidden inside was a falls that turned red, green, black, orange and holiday colors on Valentine’s, St. Patrick’s, Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas.
The last two miles were a treacherous thrill ride up a snaking two lane mountain highway filled with all the breathless ascent of a rollercoaster ready to be propelled at its zenith.
The tourist coming down, amped up on on sugarcoated dreams, soda pop, rainbow squirts and homemade fudge dissolving like cotton candy in their mouths, would dare the descent without a tap of the brakes, making it the only place on earth where heaven could collide with hell.
I’m sure those old barns have rotted down, filling their fields in creosote abandonment. Perhaps the whitewash of time has eroded ROCK and even CITY leaving the passing soul wondering what there is left to SEE.
The dream still exists amidst fairy tale caverns and meandering limestone/sandstone trails on the very top of Lookout Mountain waiting for a family of woodpeckers to roost in the metal SEE ROCK CITY birdhouse hooked to the V of my old oak.