The Brambles

All I wanted was to read once a week next to a body of water. Preferably the ocean, but that’s over two hours away, so a river or a lake. A county park I had never been to fit the bill, at least, according to pictures on Instagram. I told Josh I had found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

“I want to get super involved in helping out with this park. I want to join the board of directors today. I want to fund-raise for this magical space. And when I die, I want a bench with my name put up so people can sit on it and remember me.”

“Do you want to… you know… see the place before you decide all of that?” Josh asked.

So we jumped immediately into the car and drove the half hour to the park. My first reaction was to burst into tears. “This is exactly how I imagined it would be. It is the most wonderful place on earth.” That was my reaction seeing a sliver of fake lake from the car window.

Wait for it.

Listen, it was nice. I mean, yes, the water was brown because this is Maryland, and all of our lakes are artificial. (Did you know that? Maryland has zero natural lakes. And it had almost no movement. Sound traveled in a bizarre way in the area, so all you could hear were people’s loud conversations or children shouting and no nature sounds. Little by little, I grew less enamored. Not fully unenamored but not cry-happy-tears-in-the-car enamored.

The following weekend, we returned in the car, armed with a list of five spots and a picnic lunch. The first place we went was… kind of perfect. It was under twenty minutes from our home. It was a swiftly running river, so you had all the nature sounds and few people around. It was a quick walk from the parking lot, and bathrooms were nearby. (Though there was a cricket in the one I used. Cue a terrified face.) We lazed about in the sun, eating potato chips, but I felt nervous about emotionally committing to the stretch of river I renamed the Brambles because I didn’t like its actual name.

After a few hours, we decided to try out the other places to confirm that we had chosen the best spot on the first try. (Well, second try. But the first try that day.) The second spot was wonderfully creepy, with trees growing out of the center of the river. You could park the car and face the water. So it was a nice second choice, but not somewhere you’d want to sit outside because it was the kind of place where you’d be lost in a book and suddenly notice a snake wrapped around your ankle. Maybe a little too rustic.

The third place was a short visit because it was once again stagnant water, but this time, there was also a flock of turkey vultures eating something that looked like it had the head of a wolf and the body of a snake. It smelled horrific, and I wouldn’t read next to a wolf-snake hybrid.

The fourth place was also stagnant water and super crowded. We struck the fifth place from the list because it had too much working against it.

We returned to the Brambles a few days later and had dinner beside the water. It was grey and moody and a little cold, but the rushing water was loud and clear, and it mostly fulfilled what I needed it to do: connect me with nature, give me a place close-by to read, and make me feel like I’d gone somewhere other than my kitchen table or living room sofa.

After giving my heart over so quickly to the first park and having it broken in under an hour, I’m being a little more cautious with the Brambles. I’m waiting to see how it holds up when more people are around in the summer or whether the river harbours a mosquito infestation. In other words, I’m waiting for the Brambles to mess up and prove my pessimistic side right. But until then, it keeps proving it wrong.