Junction: A place of meeting or joining. Once, all was forest, then came the colonizers, who took down much of the forest. Pockets remain, and as it is the will of nature to grow and also to colonize, the junctions where field and forest meet are the site of a subtle battle.
The coastal salt marsh of the South Carolina Low Country, is the birth place of much of the ocean's life. It's also home to many who feed on the creatures that are born, and live there. The magnificent herons, and their kin, are a constant presence-stalking the marsh.
We walk with our extra large pup, along the Kettle Creek almost daily, unless there's a monsoon and the valley becomes a lake. This is the view from the crest of the hill, just before the trail head. It's our happy place.
I drive past this vista regularly, there’s a rutted farm track that goes through the fields and the land tells tales of retreating glacial flood waters, followed by forests then farms. These fields are zoned industrial use, one by one they’re disappearing under concrete and asphalt.
Recorded on a hot summer day, Don's hill, was an anomaly, a steep drop into what may have once been the bed of a rushing glacial river, long gone, and now permanently erased to make way for a "better" road.