Hawn State Park

After the farm fails and the barbed wire rusts away, what's left? We've seen before that once people and their things leave a place, their plants remain. We've seen that most notably in the springtime daffodils next to the foundation of ruined cabin. Except for the daffodils, I would have walked right by the cabin.

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When I think of Hawn State Park, I think of pines. Big stands of mature native short-leaf pine.

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There's a hidden natural area down stream from the campground at Hawn State Park.I'd like to say that I found it, and that it was wonderful, but I never made it there. Too many ticks.

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The nicest park in the state, bar none. I've been visiting the park since I was a child. My grandfather took me by there, a side-trip from day-long drive we took in search of sawmill scraps for the fireplace. Since then, I've camped there, backpacked there, day hiked there. I know the main trail, the Whispering Pines Trail, as well as I know any place. And yet Hawn is the only place where I've ever been truly lost. Twice.

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Sometimes the uncomplicated pleasures are best. Sometimes the big philosophical throw-down seems, well, contrived. Misplaced. Misdirected. The effort might be better spent on just looking.

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Is the designation of a "Natural Area" forever? Or can it be rescinded like any other act of the government?

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