Pecan Valley Park

My goal this semester has been to explore Fort Worth and its surrounding suburbs more. I plan to attend law school in the fall, and although I have applied everywhere across the country, including here in Texas, I can’t help but think that this may be my last time as a student in Fort Worth as I graduate in December. It’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time, but nonetheless, I am trying to explore areas I have not gotten to during my time at TCU. Pecan Valley Park, or the Art Crowsen Trailhead, is near Benbrook Lake. Every week, I find more hidden gems in the Fort Worth area. When I first arrived at TCU, I figured there would not be any places to go hiking or to go on walks. I may be right about the hiking part; North Texas is extraordinarily flat, but there are so many hidden parks and trails that traverse this area that I have never even heard of. Trinity river was always the most popular because it is the closest campus, and I pass it daily. But these photos are from Pecan Valley Park. The directions I followed to the park took me down a road surrounded on either side by open fields. In the first photo is a singular tree that sat along the road. It is almost entirely barren, which I found to be an interesting contrast to the trees along the trail. At first, I was hesitant to continue down the road because you had to travel far down to get to the parking lot, and there was nothing but this barren tree.

As you walk along the trail into the deep etches of the woods, you come across this bridge in the following image. It had wet leaves along the sides of the bridge, and it overlooked a standing river. As I walked to the other side of the bridge, I quickly realized that the other side was blocked off. It was strange because even if it was not blocked off, it just led directly into the woods, with no paths, or trails, just trees and other flora and fauna. I’ve noticed that many of the trails around here have bridges like this one. This bridge offered a vantage point that I found standing out for a couple of minutes, just taking everything around me. I watched for any ripple in the water, rustling near the trees, or distant noises. The river was not moving; at the surface flew bugs and other flies that would make soft dispersing ripples in the water.

Along the path, I found what I thought was a bird feeder, but it had tiny little white paintings that took the shape of a bat. I thought maybe it was a bat resting place, but I thought it would be a peculiar thing to have one of those in the woods. I snapped a photo of this because I did not know precisely what it was. When I returned home, I did some research, and sure enough, it looked exactly like the bat resting places I found online. I found this to be an unconventional location for a bat resting place. When I think of bats, I don’t internally associate them with living among other animals in the woods.

The last photo I captured represents the experience and feel of being on the trail. Trees lined each side of the trail, blocking out everything else. It provided a blanket of security. I was alone the entire walk; I only passed a biker once. There was calming energy that cascaded and filled the air around me. I could hear birds chirping, cicadas and other bugs droning, and the soft lull of nature all around me. Sometimes when I am alone, I am taken aback when I see someone else doing the same thing. But for the entirety of the trail, I was left alone. Nobody said hi as they passed, and nobody was talking to their friends; nobody walked past on the phone. I was entirely alone. On this day, I decided to leave my headphones back at home. No music or meditation buzzed in my ear, just the full embrace of what surrounded me. This picture shows an entirely contradictory story of the barren tree marking the park's entrance in the first image. The trees inside the park were viridescent and plentiful. It shows that nature is often deceiving and that what might be true in one area could be completely the opposite in another, not that far from there. Each plant has its own story; maybe the barren trees' story was ending.