Wherever I have lived, I’ve explored the parks around me. This entry is an ode to some of my favorite outside places. I always seem to miss them more than buildings.
In high school, the first person in my group of friends to get his driver’s license was Eric. Eric drove a group of us through the Baraboo bluffs one gorgeous fall. We listened to R.E.M. as we made our way to Parfrey’s Glen just outside of Devil’s Lake Park. Parfrey’s is a sandstone gorge, and the scale of it, something like a 100 feet, is remarkable! I remember balancing on the rocks in the stream, feeling quiet and small with those huge walls surrounding me. My friends and I hung out there and hiked the short trail. After our walk, we had lunch and coffee at a fun hill top restaurant called School House Pizza. It was a beautiful day.
In Florida, I wandered Hillsborough State Park and Lettuce Lake Park. I learned the beauty of the swamps at each of these places by riding in paddle boats next to otters, cotton mouth snakes, and alligators, and climbing towers to get better views of osprey nests. Later, I fell in love with the Withlacoochie Trail. I biked and bladed from Brooksville to Floral City, approximately 30 miles up and back, through the state forest, past farms and small towns. I always saw Eastern indigo snakes and several kinds of butterflies. And Flatwoods Park remains my most favorite outside place in Florida. It’s a 7 mile loop through swamps and dry prairie. I say hello to a special pine tree each time I go back. Benjamin and I have written a love song to Flatwoods, to the armadillos, sand hill cranes, deer, and bob cats that live there. I love this park, and I can not wait to return.
When I lived in Minneapolis, I escaped the city and headed East to Afton State Park. I tried to make friends with the snow there, lying down in it to swish a snow angel, watching it move like ghosts or veils across the road, admiring its sparkle in the sun. I also drove North to Taylor’s Falls to hike through the woods and bluffs. I had quiet exchanges with deer and admired the spectacular views. Both of these parks helped me get through the long winters. Both of these parks taught me to appreciate a cold season’s unique beauty.
Benjamin and I escaped Chicago by driving North to bike in Moraine Hills State Park. This park had a great variety of landscape—marshes, woods, and rolling hills. Each time we went, there seemed to be explosions of different insects or arachnids-dragon flies, lady bugs, butterflies, and daddy-longlegs. At the end of one loop, there was a vast field where we would stop to sit and watch birds. Then we always treated ourselves to apple pie and cinnamon ice cream at Quig’s Apple Orchard. Moraine Hills was the first park where we fell in love with biking as a couple, and because of this, it secures its place as one of our Romantic havens.
In North Carolina, we spent a lot of time on the trails at Umsted State Park. There was a section at the bottom of our favorite trail covered in ferns, and we used to joke and call this Jurassic Park, because it felt like we’d easily run into a dinosaur. It felt ancient and ten degrees colder. In the spring, the dogwoods bloomed among the pines and oaks. This felt complete for me, the total charm of a Southern woods. We often heard choruses of frogs (signs of a healthy ecosystem) and once we saw a flock of cardinals against the bright blue sky. It was lovely.
Outside of D.C. we biked along the C&0 Rail to Trail. Great blue herons would hunt in the canal and cormorants would dry their wings on the rocks in the Potomac. We saw garter snakes, turtles, hawks, and deer. There was a rocky outcrop where we’d rest and listen to the water. It was a nice place to lose track of time. The C&0 is just one of the many Rail to Trails that Benjamin and I have enjoyed. Our goal is to bike as many as we can. It’s good to feel 12 years old every once in a while, and when we are on our bikes, we feel this freedom.
In Maryland, we could bike from our apartment building to Little Falls. This small trail was not as crowded as the nearby Capital Crescent, and we often saw Border Collies splashing in the water. For a suburban bike trail, Little Falls was a sweet get away. We were only in MD for a few months, but I am grateful for the times we visited Little Falls.
I grew up with a hundred acres for a back yard. My family officially owned only an acre of this, but our kind neighbors let my brothers and me go wherever we wanted. We’d cut through a corn field to get to the back woods where we followed an old logger’s trail to ponds and meadows. We ice skated, built forts, and generally ran around with our Golden Lab, Duke. It was an idyllic way to grow up, and I feel incredibly lucky to have this sensibility, this appreciation for nature.
And now I live close to the East Irvington Nature Preserve.
There is something about this place that reminds me of my first woods. Something about East Irvington holistically makes me feel like I’m back in the trees off Lewiston Station Road. Being in this woods make me want my brothers with me. I can hear us, our little kid spirits, running around, snapping twigs with our muddy tennis shoes, whistling for our dog, laughing. It’s the trees, the rocks, and the pond here.
Ponds, marshes, or swamps have always settled me down. The water is quiet. It might not look like it’s moving, but it is, slowly, my favorite way. If you listen, you can hear it. I watched a mallard circling here, and I swear I could hear his webbed feet kicking ripples in the water. And it’s not just the water. It’s the cat tail reeds and the gorgeous, watery throats of the red winged black birds that make ponds so peaceful.
Thoreau understood ponds. He knew the poetry in sitting next to them. The good folks who have taken care of the East Irvington Preserve understand this too. There’s a view deck over this pond where I will soon bring my folding chair and notebook. How nice it will be to have a little Walden nearby in my new-familiar outside place.
