Indian mounds dating back nearly 900 years rest only a mile from our house. They are down the road and through a trail in the woods. The city made it into a little park. Now a historical landmark with trails and markers and beautiful oak trees, it's available to anyone but no one was there, so we made it our spot for the afternoon.
We've wanted to get there, but I've been to tired to walk the entire thing, so we drove to the trail head (George Wilder rode on his bike beside us) and headed through the woods. We came into this lovely clearing and there right in front of us, covered in spanish needles, covered in weeds, covered in the past, were two gigantic indian mounds.
No pictures -- Indian mounds look like mounds. The stories beneath -- what we can't see is what we want to know and see. So we imagine and read the little stories there. William listens to see if the tree has any stories to share.
The autumn gives us gifts to hunt. Massive acorns, clay along the creek, Jack-In-The-Pulpit seed pods, honey mushrooms, Phoebes flittering here and there, pilliated woodpeckers playing, fungi hugging rotting logs, and black damselflies dancing along the creek bed.
We took pictures and notes and came home to identify them all. With the help of some friends, our books, and the internet, we managed to identify most of our finds. Even the leaves gave us a spot of color and reminded us that yes, fall comes to Tallahassee too.
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