Looking for the Beach

Trying to find a new beach on which to walk with the dog, the state park entrance appeared, so we turned in. Trails. A nice couple told me the less traveled one was 3.1 miles, perfect. On the pine straw path I don't think I could really hear my hiking boots hitting the ground. It was hard to tell if I could hear my footsteps or whether I was just feeling the vibration in my body. I wondered if that is perhaps like being deaf, but still having a sense that is close to hearing..... I could hear the leather creaking a little when the wind was still.

The park rangers cut pieces out of fallen trees and put them aside in order to keep the path clear. Hey, if a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one walking there, is it blocking the path?

I talk to myself sometimes, but I forced myself to shut up. A quiet place is an especially good place to listen. My present worries calmed considerably as the walk continued.

A boardwalk traversed the mucky places, slippery with algae. The cypress trees come up out of the swamp on either side and the surface of the water reminds me of oil on puddles, all colorful. Made of kooties, I think, but kind of pretty.....and kind of spooky looking, all orangey, pinky, purple and bluegreen all blending into one another. Spanish moss was dangling off the trees. Then there were little trees trying to sprout up that reminded me of crocuses coming up in spring, only bigger. This secret forest hides right near the ocean. The path was narrow but we only passed about 7 other folk and went home duly exercised and thirsty.