From the Trail: A Walk at Lake Brownwood State Park

It is easy to miss delightful things when we only accept and cultivate experiences that we expect to be life-changing.

Last summer, my husband and I stayed one night at Lake Brownwood State Park here in Texas on our way to New Mexico. I woke up early that morning and decided that I would take a walk over to the lake. I didn’t expect much, being far more excited about the places to come, but it was not too hot yet and I needed the exercise.

The hike was a pleasant one, notable for the interesting mix of desert and wetland plants and the juxtaposition of habitats. The Western Cross Timbers, Edwards Plateau, Grand Prairie and Rolling Plains regions all come together here. There are also some attractive stone structures and features made by the  Civilian Conservation Corps before and during the World War II era (1933-42). Moths and butterflies were plentiful, and I met up with an itinerant road runner who kept me from missing the trail on the way back. This trail reminded me that some of life’s great moments happen unannounced. If we only take those walks that promise to impress us with spectacular scenery, we miss the subtler beauty that lies all around us. Sometimes that is all we need and all the more precious.

 Woodland Mood

Wetland Mood

Desert Mood

Flora’s Fancies

Winged Beauty

Trailrunner

Ranger Residence

Stairs to Boat Dock

Lantern

Stone Tables and Benches

Through the Autumn Mist: autumn by the lake by Bart van der Gaag

Prituri sa planinata

The mountain has collapsed
And captured two shepherds.
Two shepherds, two friends.
The first shepherd begs her:
“I have a wife who will weep over me.”
The second shepherd begs her:
“I have mother who will weep over me.”
The mountain replies:
“Oh, you shepherds,
A wife grieves from morning till noon but a mother grieves until death!”
The mountain has collapsed
And captured two shepherds.

Uppsala_in_SwedenPhotographer and filmmaker Bart van der Gaag shot this footage on an autumn morning by lake Fjällnora near Uppsala, Sweden. Evocative and misty shots shimmer to the haunting strains of Prituri sa planinata, a Thracian Bulgarian folk melody sung by the late singer Stefka Sabotinova. Breathtaking!