Fairy Tales
of thAe tomic
Age
JONI TEVIS
art by john glenn
Apocalyptic visions at a
Deep South tourist attraction
THIS WAY NEXT
—trailside sign, Rock City
FRIEDA CARTER was an entrepreneur’s wife and maybe
all she wanted was a garden. It grew. In 1930, she walked
through the woods with a string in her hand, letting it trail
behind. Across the big ?at stone, down a vale and through a
narrow cleft, up a hill and out to the edge of the mountain,
where the sandstone fell sharply away. Lookout Mountain
was Georgia, but the valley was Tennessee, close enough to
spit. This is a place where many boundary lines touch.
Do as she did and head down the narrow path through
the boulders, winding past hemlocks and bluebells, each
plant neatly labeled. Autumn fern, Florida azalea, leatherleaf mahonia, lenten rose, sourwood, button bush. The
Enchanted Trail doubles back on itself; you can’t see where
you’re going, but you know where you’ve been. The brochure
in your hand notes each location of interest.
Which came >rst, paving the way or planting the specimens? Laying stone for bridges or saying the names? Fat
Man’s Squeeze, Needle’s Eye, Tortoise Rock. Who claimed
