We took a walk in the park this weekend, at Cape Blanco, where the Sixes River meets the Pacific Ocean. All around us the forested hills, pines bent from the strong winds, grass as tall as deer, the river meandering slowly to its end.
Our aim was to walk along a path by the river. We had taken this path before, and we knew it took us to the ocean. A quarter mile into our walk, the footpath disappeared. The spring grasses had invaded the path and erased all signs. That didn't stop us. It should have.
We kept going, pushing through among blackberry brambles, sharp edged sea-grass, pollen-laden rye grass. When our steps pushed our pulse-rate, when our sneezing and scratching could not be ignored, we changed direction and returned to the car, noticing Canadian geese enjoying their day on the water. I hope you can see them with a bit of enlargement.
We'll have to return and finish our walk as soon as the park rangers weed-whack the path.
You see, sometimes nature is a bit daunting.
