The Cove

In south central Pennsylvania, a relatively insignificant section of the Appalachian Mountains lay as a fortress protecting a few small, rural American towns. When I use the image of a fortress, I literally mean that if someone stood in the middle of this region and looked in any direction, he or she would see a mountain that would hardly be considered far off in the distance. In the spring and summer the trees on these mountains are lush and full and give the mountain sides the appearance of solid green walls. Within these walls and surrounding the towns sit hundreds of farms. In fact, if one stayed on the right roads during the growing season it would be very easy to think that the entirety of this area was a massive, inescapable corn field that was occasionally interrupted by the sighting of a field of meandering cattle, half of which would be asleep. In the fall and winter the scenery transforms. The fall brings reds, yellows and oranges that set the mountain sides ablaze, and the crops are harvested as though a plundering of great treasures was taking place. The winter leaves the mountains in shambles with only patches of evergreens left unmarred until the spring returns triumphantly. As these seasons cycle through, so does the showcasing of values such as community, religion, and the appreciation of outdoors in lives of the men and women within the fortress known to residents as Morrison’s Cove.

Within the Cove, a place exists that embodies all of these values: my home town, Woodbury. Technically, Woodbury is what people call a borough. In my little borough abides a population of around two hundred and fifty people, five times as many cows, and a seemingly innumerable amount of acres of farm land. In a town this small, everybody just about knows everybody. This attributes to one of the most important values of the area, community. Evidence of community shows up year round, but it takes on different forms in different seasons. The most upbeat form of community comes with the summer. This is the time when citizens come out and are united by agriculture and outdoor activities. People can hardly go a week without having a fair or a farm show, a community or church picnic, or a bon fire or cookout just for the sake of getting together. In the fall, outdoor activities continue, and one of the most uniting pastimes takes place, high school football. Everybody goes to football games. It does not even matter if they have a kid playing because nine tenths of them are just rooting for their alma mater. While football is by far the most popular sport, the winter brings wrestling, which never fails to bring people together. It can barely even be called a team sport, yet people rally around each other as if their children were marching off to war together. Outdoor activities start up again in the springtime along with the high school baseball season and church softball leagues. All of these events continue to be successful year after year in bringing together the local community.

Another major part of community for this area is religion. Five churches stand tall in Woodbury alone, five churches for two hundred and fifty people. Woodbury has everything from Methodists with a contemporary service to Mennonites. One might think this would actually divide the town because they are all different denominations. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The members of these congregations are some of the most accepting people I know. I cannot count the amount of community hymn sings, Christmas carol trips, picnics, and other activities that bring these churches together. A deep belief exists here that we are all part of the body of Christ, no matter what name we add to our Christianity.

Two other activities exist that do not really directly bring together the community, but they are still two of the most important things to citizens of the Cove and especially Woodbury. These activities are hunting and fishing. They take up large chunks of people’s lives in this area. I must say that the individuals I know who are most appreciative of nature are hunters and fishers. These are men and women who gladly spend the whole day walking through the woods or wading through the water, knowing that the vast majority of the time that is all they will be doing. Then, when the act is done properly, I believe that no matter the outcome, it should be and can be a beautiful display of the respect people should have for nature. It comes from the challenge of the hunt and the victory of either hunter or beast. When the beast escapes, the hunter is humbled, and when the hunter comes away the victor, the man or woman should have the same respect for the beast a warrior has for his or her vanquished foe. Death can be a beautiful thing, especially in nature. The death of a deer or a fish is the manifestation of the circle of life, cycling like the seasons.

Hunting and fishing are important to these people for other reasons as well. They serve as key tools of bonding, especially between fathers and their sons. When a boy turns twelve, he is taken to Frederick’s Gun Shop or some other store in the area and signed up for a hunter safety course. Sometime after the completion of the course he is taken back to the gun shop and receives a license and is given his first real gun by his father. This is a special moment for fathers and sons alike. It is a major step in the coming of age process for young boys in this area. However, it does not compare to the first day of buck season. Few things exist in this world that can bring a father and son together like sitting in the woods for hours upon hours. Nature works in peculiar ways to bring people together like this. What is even more momentous is if the son actually emerges successful. A new emotion is felt like the sounding of a trumpet, pride beyond all comprehension. It is a deep-seeded pride that comes from seeing a trained hunter conquer an enemy. This moment is perhaps once in a lifetime for both individuals and passes by extraordinarily in the Cove.

All these events contribute to the overall attitude of the people of Morrison’s Cove and Woodbury. They are a humble community of people with religious values. They are brought together by the changing of the seasons and the wonderful events that the seasons bring with them. They commune with one another in solitude within the walls that nature has provided them. They are a proud people, proud of their traditions and proud of their home, the fortress that they call the Cove.