Words and pictures from the author of the Elizabeth Goodweather Appalachian Mysteries
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Hidden in the trees for most of the year, in winter the monolith called Pinnacle Rock reappears like a ship plowing through the snow of the ridge to the south of our house.
At its 'prow,' the rock is 35 or 40 feet high. The farther side backs up to the mountain so that an unwary hiker traveling down the ridge when all the trees were leafed out could find him or herself suddenly teetering on the edge of quite a drop.
Pinnacle Rock holds a sort of magic for me. In summer it's guarded by brambles and poison ivy and it's been years since I came near it. But I love to watch it floating there in the midst of the snowy woods.
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