Ahhh…Far West Texas.

When I was six, my family went on our first camping trip. We stayed at the Davis Mountains State Park, way out in West Texas; I don’t remember too much about the trip other than sleeping in the tent and my dad and I climbing way up the hill across from our campsite to what we called the Resting Rock, where we could look down on my mom and sister, made tiny by the great distance.

Later on, in high school, I was part of a group that went to Big Bend National Park every year at spring break and one year we spent the night in the state park at the Davis Mountains. I remember that the leaves were falling from the live oak trees, which was the first time I knew they lost their leaves in the spring. I didn’t see the Resting Rock.

And, still later, I started taking myself on kind-of-annual trips to that part of the state. I camped a couple of times, stayed at the lodge at the state park a few more, and stayed in Alpine and Marathon, too.

It’s my favorite part of Texas. I feel good there.

Alpine, Texas
photographed 1.19.2013

PS – Of course, the Resting Rock was probably about ten feet up the hill, but I was six. And I lived where it was flat, so any sort of uphill climb was probably quite a challenge.