by Kelly Jo Stone
Hundreds of thousands of people visit Hamlin Beach State Park each year. They come for its beautiful beaches and wooded areas. As residents of Hamlin, it is easy to take this natural wonder for granted. Sometimes, an entire hot summer will pass, and we will suddenly wonder why we hadn’t gone swimming there. Between work and responsibilities, it is easy to forget the value of meandering along the beach.
This year was one of those years when time slipped away from us. Seeking something to fill an unusually quiet day, we decided to take our dog for a walk on the beach. As we pulled into the park, my husband slowed by the entrance to Yanty Creek Nature Trail. With a shared look and a shrug, our walk on the beach became a walk in the woods.
We explored, enjoying the “Am I a Mammal” story that lines story book trail. We walked slowly, enjoying the unknown. The trail twisted and turned with the occasional overlook that led to nowhere but a beautiful view.
It was unique to have no true destination and not to know what lay ahead. The trail was surrounded by greenery and trees and covered in leaves and twigs that snapped and crunched under our feet. We had been chatting and enjoying the walk when suddenly we were in another world. Gone were the familiar sounds of walking in the fall, replaced with the silent footsteps on a thick cushion of pine needles. The greenery disappeared into a small grove of black pines. The trees had captured the area, standing like sentinels around the bench that crouched in the center of the grove. We stepped lightly, almost afraid of breaking the magic spell that had clearly been cast. The sun peeked through the towering, outstretched arms of each tree. The smell of pine hung in the air. I looked around; the dim, fragrant atmosphere seemed to pause, like a breath held in anticipation. We spoke in whispers, like thieves sneaking a moment of stolen magic. I would have remained all day, but the trees in the way of magic seemed to realize that interlopers had overstayed their welcome. One pinecone fell, and we both looked up. Then another and another, and soon, the trees seemed to be raining cones onto us. We laughed as we dodged and ran. I looked back several times, my eyes, mind, and imagination drawn by the grove’s peace and ethereal quality. It has been several weeks, and still, my mind strays to that grove, my imagination creating knights rescuing maidens or the trees bending to bow to each other at dusk, perhaps having a meeting of ancient minds before returning to stand guard silently through the day.
We returned today, and the magic remains. The season has begun to change, and I wondered if the sentinels would be less attentive with winter on the horizon. They were, in fact, even grander than before as they stood majestically reaching for the sky. We walked away, and I carried that same fascination away with me. I look forward to returning this winter and am excited to see what magic awaits.
