My parents were transplants from West Texas who moved to San Antonio due to the consolidation of Air Force Bases in the 1950’s. I was the third child, but the first born in SA. I recall my parents having barbecue picnics at Concepcion Park along the San Antonio River with relatives that were also transplants. It was the best of times, when parents would get busy talking about West Texas news and life in the big city.
For my younger city cousins and me, it was time to get out and play. That normally took us beyond the park boundaries, playing hide-and-seek or just exploring the pecan grove next to the park. It was the place that my big cousin Junior called “the WOODS.” It had dirt trails that were unmanaged and seemed to have endless places to hide and explore. When we were done running, it was time to cool off and attempt to catch minnows down by the river. Back then, the river was ankle to knee deep most of the time. Our plan to catch the little fishes was to create a dam across a narrow section using river rocks, then channel them into a small pool. We would then attack them like a wild bear after salmon as seen the TV show Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom. Needless to say, the minnows usually got away.
Summers would be spent visiting family either on Mom’s side in Marfa or Dad’s family outside of Big Bend Park. Either place that the family would go was heaven to me. While Mom and Dad spent time catching up with family, I would join my country cousins and explore unsupervised. In Marfa, one of my favorite spots was exploring the dry creek of Alamito for those cool looking rocks or for Texas horn lizards – always hoping for a summer shower to swell the creek and expose more rocks. The rain always brought something you never got in the city, that “clean laundry” aroma of guama (aka creosote bush) in the desert air.
The other parts of the summer were spent at Dad’s family farm that ran down to the Rio Grande river, where I would look for arrowheads or other interesting artifacts. At times, I would follow the fast-flowing Rio Grande river with tall mountains on the other side that not even a mountain goat could get through. I knew then that the river marked my boundaries in more ways than one. I was okay with that, because the Big Bend Mountains in the background seemed to be endless and full of enchantment. No matter where I was – in San Antonio or in far West Texas – exploring trails was heaven on earth.
Fast forward to the busy lifestyle of my current adult years. I still find time to explore nature trails. I need my frequent doses of nature to re-connect and stay grounded, occasionally stopping along the way to take it all in and be mindful. At times, I remind myself that it’s not only seeing the beauty of the tallest tree on the path or listening to a bird song, but to be aware of the smallest decomposer working its magic down below at ground level. Taking a deep breath to absorb it all, and then exhaling, releases all my anxieties and leaves me with a sense of calm.
Exploring trails is still heaven on earth!
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