Tag: Bonnie L Boucek

A Wild Child’s Sanctuary

Contributor: Bonnie L. Boucek
Stream Name: Fishing Lake
Location: Aiken State Park, Windsor, SC (map)
Watershed: South Edisto River

1988 – The US Space Shuttle program restarted and the Iran – Iraq war ended. Actor Ronald Reagan was the US President and George Michael wanted to be my “Father Figure”. The Internet caught its first major virus. Wars, bombings, and the Olympics were all happening in a flurry of chaos. Yet, for me, the most important thing was I passed my driver’s license test. I was a young woman free to drive all over the vast lands of nothingness.

My town was [and still is] a small town that rolls up activity when the sun sets. Like any teenager with a car, license, and nothing to do, I created my own fun. I admit I did some wild, crazy stunts as a teenager. Enough of them to know I’m blessed to be here today. The one that sticks out after all this time is one I still do today [2021].

That’s when it happened. I found the magic spot. Serenity, nature, and a special sense of life bursting out of everything. Aiken State Park located in the middle of nowhere, but still felt like home to a born city girl. Free to enter (the perfect price for a teenager) and an ideal escape from everything.

When I traversed the Internet web and discovered the workshop for this project, I knew I had discovered a goldmine. The chance to combine my loves of writing and nature in a more personal experience. More than that was the chance to share a special place with the world.

The Fishing Lake was magical to a sixteen-year-old girl. It still is decades later. To honor both the place and the teenager, I have decided for the Our Stream Stories to do a series – bi-monthly visits to see how the area changes and to document it through a variety of poetic forms.

The main grounds of Aiken State Park for visitors to enjoy the parks amenities. It’s tucked away deep in the woods – a perfect escape from the modern world and those troubles that weigh down a mind.

Creative Moment: Look at the map as something other than a map. What do you see? Feel free to share in the comments.

Driving around I found the spot that called out to me the most. It also touched my muse who was overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of me writing, which I did. The Fishing Lake was the perfect spot to sit, relax, and enjoy just being.

This hidden gem is located all the way at the back of the park. To get to the shelter and restrooms, you need to drive down a little access road. A small parking lot is before the bridge you walk across into the “Maintained Wilderness.”

Magic Men

Times were hard after the market fell, crashed, then burned in 1929. The wealthy were no longer wealthy. The poor were now even poorer. There was no middle class. It was tough all over the United States. President Franklin D. Roosevelt created programs to keep the people and country going. The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was one such program. It gave hammers, self-esteem, and life skills to millions of men. Magic men found hidden beauty. Magic men chopped, hauled, built, and toiled those acres. Magic men made this park. Thank goodness for magic men.

Simple Design

for a simple place.
Hidden deep
within the woods
far away
from the world’s rat race.
Eight pillars
standing tall
with the weight
of the roof for eternity.
No walls
to restrain
the people’s view
or
wind’s gentle nudge.
Six tables
placed for companionship.

Outlined

Two, mighty pines stand tall. Nature’s perfect framed window. Exceptional.

Water brims with life hidden beneath the surface. Ripples reflect life: the clue.

Mirror, Mirror

Water seems so still,
trapped in time
caught in the past
surrounded by trees.
Manmade lake –
lone, white pipe marks
the well dug and abandoned.
Water flows and flows,
never ending
like the changing seasons.
Warm spring breeze kisses the
water’s top.
Trees caught and mirrored back.
Blue skies seen below the surface.

Tensions

Water catches trees cast-offs cluttering surface, smothering the view. Almost

Small jumping spiders break tension and soon garner attention. Strange life sees and gobbles, causing ripples to flow, out, out, and out. Never-ending.

Songs

Ripples shimmer, sunlight
glimmers.
Bright green grasses
outline your shores.
Lily pads dot the water
ways,
Gathering to make chorus
grounds
For nature’s choir to croak
its song.

Bridge

Flows

Water flows to greener ways down a path another flows hidden behind brush.

Greater than seen here
South Edisto River winds,
twists her way to ocean views.