There were more folks than I expected at Oil Creek State Park on Labor Day. I tend to avoid public parks on holidays, but it called to me from across the miles. There's too much uncertainty in my life right now. I miss my daughters who are away at college. I've been feeling a little edgy and bored. I had to do what I've been doing all my life: Take it to the trees. The trees have seen it all, and their counsel is always wise.
The weather was nice, not too hot, and I didn't have time to go too far from home. It would have been a good day to put a kayak on Oil Creek, but who would taxi me back to my car?
Oil Creek doesn't disappoint--with its rugged, steep terrain, its pleasant vistas, and its lazy, winding stream. I'm hoping to do the whole 37-mile loop someday. But I always expect summers to hold far more adventures than you can fit into them.
At one point, I got into a pretty heated text conversation with a faraway friend and wandered off the trail and onto private land, where I made this slightly eerie discovery. It's an old Detroit from late 30s or early 40s. Someone drove it in here long ago, pushed it over on its side, and left it.
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