A tiny drop of fear can water the imagination. When I moved to the Quad Cities six years ago, someone with the best of intentions warned me not to go walking alone at Blackhawk State Park. A young woman’s remains had once been found there. The advice stuck in my mind and for six years I avoided walking the woodland trails.
Last Sunday afternoon, I had the best time walking the pathes at Blackhawk State Park. At times, the trails, made dusty from use, wrapped tightly along dry creek beds and steep ledges. The late afternoon sun filtered through golden leaves. Along the way, I met several generations laughing and enjoying the woods. The deep dry creek beds were the most interesting to me, full of rocks and leaves and not a drop of fear.