2nd Saturday Morning

The morning passed quickly.

Four hours earlier, eight men went walking down into Bee Creek canyon, each carrying seven-foot juniper poles and various shovels and rakes and implements of destruction. And water -- each took water, too.

At the top of the hill with the sun still low in the eastern sky and nighttime still lingering in the air, it was chilly. Beneath the canopy of juniper and oak along the trail down into the canyon, it was downright cold.

Yet each of them knew that there was no need to be alarmed by the temperature. It wouldn't be long before some would be unzipping their jackets, and some would be stopping for yet another drink, and some would be covered in sweat with steam rolling off the tops of their head.

No, there was no need to fear the chill. It would soon be a gift.

With the poles and tools on their shoulders, they hiked a mile into the canyon, down limestone switchbacks, past the fern-covered waterfall along the creek, across the trickling stream of water, and up the other side.

Somewhere on the far side of Bee Creek, the eight of them stopped and began working on the trail. Making steps from the juniper poles. So that others might find the climb less daunting. So that runoff from springtime thunderstorms might not turn the trail into a gully.

They worked for three hours or so. The sun climbed high into the sky. The chill of the morning passed. And when they were done, they stepped back and looked at their work and were proud of what they had done.

And on the way back, on the stepping stones across the creek, on the walk past the falls, on their way back up the trail they had descended that morning, they could enjoy the hike more than they had before, since they had no juniper logs to carry.

And on the way back some of them took their time. They looked down at the clear water in the creek. They gazed out into the woods at the trees and woody shrubs. They smelled the air. They kicked their shoes against the rocks. They listened to the Wrens bickering in the woodpile and the Nuthatches flitting from branch to branch. And they watched as a Ruby Crowned Kinglet flicked across their path in a flash of red and green.

And then they all went home.

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Volunteer Trail Maintenance (2nd Saturday of every month) at Wild Basin, Austin TX.

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