The wind whistled through the trees. Branches swayed and what remained of the crisp, brown leaves drifted gently to the ground. Water in the wetland bogs left darkened rings on the cypress trees, standing like soldiers on the landscape. Families strolled along the boardwalk, crossing the wetlands to the river, with its log jams and ugly, muddy banks. Boys on inline street boards zipped past, clacking over the boardwalk, quickly twisting their way out of sight. A couple of boys clambered up and down the banks of the river, dark mud dripping from their shirts and jeans. Dogs pulled thier owners along the trail, wanting to go faster, in anticipation of what would be around the next corner and the next. Cypress knees dotted the landscape like props on a fantasy set. A sky filled with layers of grey clouds set the mood for our afternoon hike. Two hours was just not enough to take it all in, but alas, two hours was all the time we could give. My wife and I returned home, refreshed and longing for our next visit to this magical park.
