Into the Swamp and Out

My husband and I recently went on a side trip to the swamps of Conagree National Park in South Carolina. My jokes and frets about being eaten by alligators were unfounded, I'm pleased to report. We stayed on the boardwalk on a safe two mile hike through the swamp.

It's another world out there! I expected water, and I got water. After all water makes a swamp. I expected creatures, and I saw none. They probably saw us as we wandered, but they kept quiet about it. What I saw mostly was healthy, happily growing trees. Cypress trees to be exact.

Those are knees around the bald cypress tree. According to wikipedia, the function of these knees is not certain. One idea is that the knees provide aeration for the roots. The knees provided a strange kind of beauty for me, one that set my imagination reeling at the idea of tiny swamp gnomes rising out of the mud and swirling a macabre dance around their mother tree.

We came into the swamp at a great time of year, the all clear time. Nary a mosquito in sight. The welcome center's mosquito meter keeps up with biting conditions. Imagine being there on the continum above ruthless. War Zone!

For several years while our son was a cadet at the Citadel in Charleston, we drove on Interstate 26 past the brown sign advertising Conagree National Park, but never had the inclination to stop and smell the swamp roses until this spring. Brown signs are notoriously apart from main roads and the curious must often drive miles out of the way. Attending park rangers award the wanderlust who do show up in their facility with a stamp like this one. We surely earned it, and I added to my collection.

I became a brown sign enthusiast years ago and wrote about my experiences in a collection of stories compiled by Randell Jones. It was later made into an audio version here in his six minute stories. Give it a click and a listen. And while you are at it, check out Randell's series of books in the Personal Story Publishing Project. Mine is published in the 2019 book, Exploring. Wait until you read the other fantastic stories!

If you ever find yourself on Interstate 26 in South Carolina, or even Interstates 77, 20, or 95, take time to make a slight detour. You'll find the swamp between those four major roads, on a forsaken path in the depths of lowland country. You'll not be disappointed. Just check the mosquito meter before you go!

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Back on Facebook Again

I'm back. Did you even miss me? I've been on a self-imposed exile from Facebook during the days of Lent and I'm here to tell you that I came out the other end with a new appreciation of time.

Time was at the root of why I chose to avoid Facebook as my Lenten discipline. About a week before Mardi Gras the powers that be (who seem to know absolutely everything about me) sent my timeline chart showing how many hours I had spent browsing through their wonderous social media format. I'll never reveal this embarrassing amount, but suffice it to say the bottom line forced me to take a new look at how I spent my hours. Sure, I enjoy keeping up with friends I've accumulated along the way, but were those video clips of cute puppies and grouchy old cats and strangers falling on ski slopes...you get the picture...robbing me of more noble pursuits? 

I clicked my final click just before my husband and I attended Ash Wednesday services at my church. Once the minister painted a cross on my forehead with the ashes of last year's Palm Sunday celebration, that was it. I was changed. My goal was to immerse myself in spiritual readings, and I did manage to follow through with some of that part of my Lenten goal: replacing frivolous with mindfulness. 

The surprise is, I didn't miss Facebook. I read a few books. I wrote a few books, well, I tried, anyway, and actually finished one. I slowed down. I smelled the proverbial roses since the seasonal ones weren't yet in bloom. I watched the local news and the thirty-minute evening news, but I didn't read people's comments on Facebook telling me what I should think about the news. That in itself was a blessing.

Okay, so I did miss wishing Happy Birthday to my friends. If you were one of those I slighted, consider yourself wished. I also missed a few event announcements that friends had shared with everyone but me. Instead, I received after-the-fact, in-person comments, "Why weren't you there? You would have enjoyed it." Drats. And I missed sharing my life with all of you. I went on an adventure to the swamps of the South Carolina low country that, rather than immediately telling you about, is now the topic of a future blog.

I assumed I would pick up my cell phone and jump right back into the thick of things when I came home after Easter morning services, maybe even in the car on the way home, like in the old days. But no. That didn't happen. I spent a little time scrolling to catch up with my friends, but the puppies and cats and unknown children hunting Easter eggs, not one click.

I've earned time back and I'm going to savor it. Thank you, Lord.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen