Oops! I Just Stepped into Paradise

Knees of the cypress trees create a little village where Hobbits could live.

The five deer stood in the clearing, shafts of sun dappling them while fog wreathed through the trees. The deer watched me closely – but seemed unconcerned. I stood on the pathway and spoke quietly to them. We just quietly enjoyed each other – the human watching these beautiful creatures. The beautiful creatures, knowing they were in a protected place, knew no fear and chewed on the grass and leaves.

We were in a perfect place.

Later, as I drove the loop road of the park, I came upon two more deer. They were walking toward me as I drove the Mule, a four-wheel drive vehicle of uncertain quality with a hiccupping transmission. These deer were more fearful because they were in a trapped situation, walking the fence line. They did an about face and leaped along the sandy road to escape the vehicle.

I stopped by the Cypress Trail. My job is to walk the trail, carrying a gas-powered blower so I can blow the falling leaves off the wooden boardwalk. After blowing for a few minutes, the leaves disappear and I am left in the perfect peace of a cypress swamp.

The knees of the cypress trees rise up from the tea-tinted water. They provide stability to the trunks of the massive cypress as well as providing access to air for the root system. The place looks like something you might imagine from the Hobbit. The conical knees could be little houses. Spiders glitter like jewels in the rising sun. Their webs capture the moist air and it coats the gossamer with glittering perfection.

A ring-tailed hawk swoops down from the sky and rests on the branch of an elm tree above my head. He is interested in the human but doesn't linger.

As I wander the boardwalk, my eye is attracted to the little plaques that have been placed along the handrails. They all remember someone who has passed who had walked this trail. I am cocooned in the love of people who have gone before me. I initially photograph the plaques so I'll be able to remember the words that touch me. But, when I get back to the rig, I think the plaques deserve to stand on their own. So I have placed them to the left of this blog. Enjoy!

Day two on the trail: I was in a Kubota, a noisy but powerful machine that works great on the sugar sand of the back country at Highlands Hammock State Park. I was running the canal on the southern edge of the roosting area for the property. I’d just arrived at the vultures’ roosting area. They congregate together along the road and in the trees – between 350 and 500 of them. I have no idea what draws them to this particular part of the park. As I creep along, they flutter down from their roosts to waddle along the road or to settle on the wooden bridge I have to cross. These birds look awfully healthy. They must have lots of carrion to keep them happy.

 But wait. Out of the canal comes a sleek adult otter. He climbs the bank right in front of me, looks over his shoulder at me in the Kubota, and then quickly waddle along the sandy path. The vultures on the path jump out of his way while others drop down from the pine trees to land beside the otter. But he is having nothing to do with these birds. He slithers down the bank and submerges back into the water.

And so it goes. Not an hour goes by without something special coming into my view. There's a smile on my lips and I whistle as I do my work. Life is good.

This cypress knee has become a bowl that captures moisture in the swamp.