It is nearing sunset in maritime forest at the northern tip of the park and I cannot stop picking. I am covered in mosquito bites and sunburned in fire-red arcs. I reek of bug spray, salt and sweat. Trails collapse under my sand-filled shoes, gone soft after a drenching rain. Still, I continue on, brushing against the slow-dancing plants and tempting fate. Tossing ripe fruit in my mouth, spitting stones, there is no place I’d rather be. Read more…

Published September 20, 2016