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Category: landscape

Beach Bling

Beach Bling

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Water, wind, sand and sky.  From these basic elements flow the beauty of a beach. It doesn’t need anything else. But like a little black dress set off to perfection with a single strand of pearls, even simplicity can be enhanced with a little bling.

I’ve seen beach art before, but never so much of it. On a hike this week we came across scores of tree trunks decorated with whelks, conches, cockle shells — and a few feathers for good measure.

The shell trees made us smile. They invited us to contribute, which we did. They sum up the beach attitude: relax, create, enjoy. 

One Beach, Indivisible

One Beach, Indivisible

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A hike yesterday through the refuge backcountry, so far in fact, that the Maryland state line was less than five miles away. 

I’ve always thought it would be fun to trek from one state to another, a feat fairly easily accomplished here, since the Assateague National Seashore includes parts of Virginia and Maryland. 

But yesterday’s walk stopped short of that, circled around and back to what I love most — the beach. 

Back to Virginia

Back to Virginia

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The commonwealth of Virginia stretches from the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Atlantic Ocean. Today, we drive toward the latter. But to reach coastal Virginia we’ll drive through much of coastal Maryland. 

Chincoteague perches at the top of Virginia’s outer banks. We’ll spend most of the almost-four-hour drive in the Free State, won’t reenter the commonwealth until we’re almost there. 

In that sense, we’ll have done on the first day of this short getaway what all travels hope to do, which is to bring the traveler home again. 

Welcome Wreath

Welcome Wreath

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I began to spot them in the forest a few days ago, although from the looks of it they’d been there for a while. The wreaths seem homemade, maybe fashioned from local boughs. 

This one is special though, decorated as it is with an eagle feather. 

Welcome back, the wreath says. Welcome back to the eagles, more common in these parts than they used to be.

Welcome back to the foxes, who prowl and hunt and make their home.

Welcome back to the walkers, including this one. 

A Mind of Its Own

A Mind of Its Own

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It’s been a while since I studied a topographical map. I’ve had to refamiliarize myself with those little squiggly lines. The closer they are together, I remember, the greater the elevation. 

Sometimes there’s a little number there to help. In the case of my terrain it’s a little number in more ways than one, something in the 300 range, as in 367 feet above sea level. 

But even 367 can be felt in the legs on the way up — and on the way down. It’s a good reminder that the land has a texture and a contour. That it has a mind of its own. 

Hybrid Walk

Hybrid Walk

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It begins in the neighborhood common land, field and forest, and continues in the stream valley park that meanders through these parts. I cross a couple of bridges there that have seen better days, and once I’m over them, I make my way to another neighborhood street.

This one is hillier than ours. It reminds me of the great sledding hills of my youth, including one I heard about but never experienced, Banana Hollow. The slope begins on one side of the street and continues on to the other. You have to imagine the hill without the houses and lawns, see it the way it once was, part of the roll and sweep of western Fairfax County hunt country.

After 20 minutes on pavement, I’m ready to be in the woods again, and follow a well-marked trail most of the way home. 

The hybrid walk: it’s good for what ails you. 

Deadwood

Deadwood

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It’s a cold, blustery day. The cardinals and sparrows that usually throng the feeder are tucked away in roosts and thickets. I can imagine them puffing up their feathers against the bitter winds. 

I have my eye on an errant limb dangling from a white oak by the fence. It seems to be attached to nothing from my vantage point (a second floor window), but must be be hung up on a branch at least 70 feet above the ground. I just hope that, when it falls, it doesn’t take out part of the fence. 

The small forest that used to grace the back of the backyard is now a few paltry trees. But because they are paltry they are precious. Even care and pruning can’t stop the deadwood from falling, though. It’s what deadwood does. 

Woodland Guideposts

Woodland Guideposts

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When walking in the woods, my eyes grow accustomed to the lack of signage and focus on subtler clues: boards along a muddy path, a dry gully, the curved white trunk of a sycamore.

Failure to notice these guideposts has consequences, like the boxy bridge I missed on Friday which meant I sidled right into someone’s backyard, complete with kiddie gym.

A woods walk sharpens the powers of observation. It keeps me on task, and for that reason, the thoughts that come seem more my own.

Mud Seasons

Mud Seasons

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The lay of the land is beneath my feet, the roots and ridges, the mud I’m not always able to avoid. When I lived in New England, mud had a season. It followed winter and preceded spring. But here in these more temperate climes, mud is often with us.

Today, for instance, as I decide whether I’ll walk in the woods or on the street, mud must be factored into the equation. Will I squish and squash, or simply plod?

Mud trips me up and slows me down. To avoid it requires detours or balancing on a two-by-four that another hiker has thoughtfully left behind.

On the other hand, mud means warmth … or at least a semblance of it.

(One of the best mud pictures I have is from a work trip to Bangladesh.)
Before the Rain

Before the Rain

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On a woods walk yesterday there was not exactly a traffic jam, but there were more people than usual. 

“It’s not raining … yet,” said a tall man in a lightweight jacket. (You could get away with one of those, though I was donned in parka and gloves.) 

It must have been the threat of showers that drove us out and into the forest, one last dash before the deluge.

This morning the drops move out and the wind moves in. I foresee a basement walk for me this morning. 

(A photo from the Blue Ridge, not my neighborhood stream valley park.)