The quiet.
An unfamiliar setting for me.
Most of the time, noise is comfortable – family conversation, the dog snoring, the hum of the air conditioner.
Over the past few months, though, the racket has grown disturbing. My husband suggested we take a morning trip over to Seabourne Creek Nature Park in Rosenberg to escape the news for a bit.
I love nature, but not necessarily the outdoors. There’s mosquitoes, snakes and the unrelenting Texas heat and humidity. But other places of interest were either closed or unavailable, so I agreed.
Seabourne Creek is located on Highway 36 within eyesight and earshot of I-69. I was surprised by the number of people in the park. I admired their toughness – the temperature was quickly rising, but they jogged along the pebble paths, oblivious of the sweat.
Our first stop was the butterfly garden. I remember seeing this patch years ago when there were only a few small plants. Now the garden is bursting with color – reds, yellows, greens, blues and purples. How those plants can grow in the brutal Texas heat is beyond me, but the dozens of butterflies seemed quite content to feed.
Families were at the park, mostly around the lake fishing. Dads and moms were baiting hooks while their children did cartwheels, spinning to a stop when they heard a fish jump in the water.
Couples were seated on park benches watching the birds and enjoying the shade. One pair told us some pretty birds were over by the lake, so we headed there. I was hoping for some photos and my bird-watching husband was looking forward to seeing some songbirds.
On the walk to the lake, I noticed for the first time how quiet the park was. Even though the freeway was close by, the sounds of civilization were non-existent.
No trucks lumbering past, no car horns, no radios blaring. Just birds rustling in the trees, tiny frogs calling to each other and the crunch of the walking path gravel underneath our feet.
When we came to the educational garden, my husband and I separated, and I was all alone with the plants. Although I didn’t know the names of any plant or bush in the lush garden, that didn’t matter. Volunteers had listed the names of all the plants on signs, along with botanical information, and I silently thanked them for their tedious work.
Taking pictures of the flowers, hoping to catch a butterfly sipping on nectar, I realized how weary I’d become of the news and the world. Turn on the television or the radio, and all we hear is bad news, and that’s all there seems to be.
A hurricane decimated central Louisiana, quiet magnolia-lined streets and a laissez-faire way of life left in shambles.
Around the world, unemployment numbers are high, many businesses have closed down and there doesn’t seem to be an end to this pandemic. I feel guilty for having a roof over my head and pessimistic for the future.
But here in this park, where the entrance is free and the prairie is wide open and constantly blooming, the quiet gave me hope.
A belief that volunteers will make sure we have a quiet sanctuary where we can catch our breath and recharge.
A reminder that getting back to nature is the jump start we need to believe that the world will go on, change and renew.
A kick in the pants that there is good in the world.
We just have to go find it.
And often, we find that good in the quietest of places.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. For photos of Seabourne Creek Nature Park, visit Denise Adams’ Facebook page.