...enduring the mess of Southside sprawl, malls and multi-lane traffic arteries (which I did not photograph)...
...to the outskirts of the city where rural cabins mix with mid-century ranchers...
...then finally to the edge of the mainland, crossing bridges, island-hopping through the marsh...
...then finally to the edge of the mainland, crossing bridges, island-hopping through the marsh...
...and onto the TRAIL to seek the treasures of the Southern Colonial Coast, including:
multi-dimensional spider webs,
dark, reflective swamps like eyes into a deep soul,
weathered sinews of a dead tree on the salt flat,
curtains of spanish moss,
a snake and one of millions of small fiddler crabs scampering sideways across the forest floor,
Shell middens, the dinner detritus of the natives,
Confederate earthworksthe writhing gnarly roots of a cedar at the water's edge,
great diagrammatic drawings on the weathered interpretive signs,
and a Bonus: Bethesda Home for Boys, an historic orphanage I always wanted to see. I was drawn from the road upon seeing an old narrow road under a tunnel of branches which led me to this entrance and another alee beyond the arch.
When I returned home with a face that had faced the wind and sun (and traffic and imminent danger of fast 18wheelers and no road shoulders) and a hungry stomach, I decided to make my own food: 4 loaves of whole-wheat bread, the family tradition. I feel so rugged and resourceful.
Thank You, Ken Burns and John Muir and all the other Parks heroes.
1 comment:
absolutely beautiful pictures ....
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