Regrowth | Guana River Wildlife Management Area
I returned home after traveling for a few weeks in Europe and Pakistan. I took a hike in the Guana River Wildlife Management Area the weekend after my return. There is easy access to the hiking trail from South Roscoe Boulevard. A large parking lot that appeared adequate early in the morning was full when I returned after two hours. Park service has displayed helpful details about the trail activities, its map, and other relevant information under a wooden pavilion.
The trail itself is well-marked, flat, and well-maintained. However, a loop splits from the main path with a warning that it can be seasonally flooded.
I decided to continue north and planned to take the Wright Road Loop farther north and convert the hike into a 4.25 miles long loop. The weather was pleasant, and several other walkers were hiking or walking the trail with their dogs.
The contrast between darker bark and amber and ginger-hued undergrowth and needles on the ground was striking. Here and there, brilliant new green growth broke through the layer of dead leaves and ground cover.
On the way, I came across a bench – a pleasant, contemplative place of solitude.
Beyond this point, a short detour to the west opens into a water-logged area, acting as a reflecting pool for the trees over yonder.
I encountered many tree trunks on the ground, in varying stages of decay.
Occasionally the darker hues of trees and remnants of the burnt undergrowth contrasted with the lush green ground cover.
The warning about the flooded trail was very accurate. I am afraid of snakes, especially the water moccasins, and I dreaded crossing the water – sometimes a foot or more deep – and did my best to find narrower and shallower crossing points.
Beyond this underwater section, path cleared again.
The Trees
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
Phillip Larkin
