Roots Of The Forgotten

Stumbling on this felt like uncovering a hidden chapter in the landscape’s story. I’d wandered off the beaten trail at Lake Allatoona, near the Allatoona Pass Battlefield, chasing the low waterline. About a quarter mile later, I rounded a bend and—wow. The lake had dropped so far that the trees were standing on stilts, their roots stretched high and bare above the ground. With the water’s support gone, they looked like they were struggling to hold their ground. Some didn’t win that battle, lying scattered along the shoreline like toppled warriors of the forest.