A new trail

 We walked along a new trail — part one-lane road, part paved path, part clay track through the woods — along the South River.  We got to a bluff and looked down on some shoals. The big dog went to the edge of a boulder and looked down at the straight drop, ears cocked, for a long time. The sound of water on rock is enchanting — and not just to humans.

We disturbed two big does. Perhaps they were browsing, but they might have been just listening to the river too.

I’ve been reading Robert Macfarlane’s Landmarks, which has made me think about place and about how a lifelong Texan adapts to a new place like the Georgia Piedmont. I scratched out a list of the places we’ve found to park the truck and get into the woods of this larger place — the Piedmont. The list has more than 20 places we know and visit regularly, not counting the places we’ve visited in the Appalachians, which begin about 90 miles north.

That’s how I got settled in Georgia. I have to get a sense of the place — to know something of its geography, geology and biology — before I feel comfortable.

I go out, park the truck, walk till I get off the pavement and look around.

I know that doesn’t work for everyone, but it does wonders for me.