“Look at this Stick Bug,” said Ranger Scott, flashing a smile as I exited my car at the old Boy Scout Camp trailhead. The creature took me back to a time of limited vocabulary. My family was sitting in the woods. “Look at this, Kimmy, it’s a Walking Stick,” I remember my dad saying. As a very young child, I looked around the woods and didn’t know how to ask all the questions I had. Were all the sticks able to move? The logs, too? The trees? The world changed forever after seeing a stick with legs get up and walk away.
In the spirit of that memory, I walked down the steep stairs and through a portal into the magic forest. As I passed through the opening, there was a fork in the trail; “choose your quest,” my mind demanded while the birds twittered and peeped as if it were any old day, not one filled with magic.
I veered right toward Little Rock Creek. The trail was green, plush, and dewy under my feet. The dense foliage made the trail feel like a labyrinth, the sides tall, the edges reinforced by twisting vines providing a barrier to the forest. Woodland Sunflowers mimicked the sun like tiny orbs adding glitter to Nature’s green wall. Yellow Wingstem grew well over my head, the color contrasted by purple American Bellflower. Nature is brilliant in her color selection.
Scat along the trail proved I wasn’t alone. The mighty Oak formed a canopy overhead. This ancient keeper of secrets, the Oak, bears witness to all. The old red buildings nestled in the woods are a reminder that there might actually be secrets to keep.
I followed a narrow, overgrown footpath around a fence and toward the river. I scrambled over rocks and limbs to a sandbar along the creek. I was thrilled to discover a Blue Swallowtail. She flew in loops, coming closer with each pass. I hoped she was interested in me, but her circles tightened around an empty indigo vodka bottle. I wondered if the poor thing was attracted to the blue so much like her own. This love affair would have an unhappy ending, I thought sadly. I made a mental note to return to pick up the butterfly’s lover in a few weeks when my friend’s short life would be complete. I couldn’t save her from a broken heart, but I could prevent it from happening again.
I felt sad for her as I focused on insects diligently deconstructing a fallen tree right before my eyes. Life is harsh, I thought as I tripped over walnuts that littered the trail. Ammunition, I laughed, returning to childhood memories—or food for those willing to do the work. Nostalgia surrounded me as I continued along the trail.
Suddenly, an image pulled me from my bittersweet reflections. I saw a doe standing on the water. I stopped just short of pinching myself; the sight was so bizarre. I was relieved to get a picture, proof that I wasn’t crazy. I watched her for a long time. Maybe she was standing on a rock? I wasn’t going to leave until I understood what gave this creature the ability to walk on water.
Funny. The algae-covered water was extremely shallow where she stood. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?
I didn’t think of that because this place is magic. I was curious; my mind was open, and my creativity tapped. I consider this area haunted. Haunted in the “otherworldly” sense. I don’t think anything bad necessarily happened here. The spirits here are not former humans stuck but rather the spirit of children embracing fun, creativity, storytelling, and imagination. Countless packs of children have run wild here, playing, camping, cooking, and learning how to be good humans. Community fun. The pure unleashed JOY of wonder for which Nature sets the stage.
I didn’t think of it because I wasn’t burdened with reality. I was busy being a kid in a spirited place with quests and portals, a place where sticks walk, butterflies fall in love, and deer walk on water—a place where anything is possible.