Serenity

Last week, like many folks, we packed our suitcases and headed out of town for spring break. We pointed the car west toward Fredericksburg, planning on visiting some Texas wineries, local antique shops and recommended tourist attractions.

We stopped in the visitor's center, had a nice conversation with the friendly staff, and circled all the places we wanted to visit.

Like hundreds of other people, we walked up and down Frederickburg's main street, dutifully picking up T-shirts and souvenirs and eating lunch in a few of the trendy restaurants.

So it came as a surprise that our favorite stop of the week was in a remote area of a state park where, besides a few birds and some craggy live oaks, we were the only ones taking advantage of one of the prettiest and refreshing places I've encountered in ages.

Pedernales Falls State Park is located 35 miles west of Austin, right outside Johnson City, the birthplace of the late Lyndon B. Johnson, former Texas senator and president of the United States. The sprawling park boasts a major calling card -- a gorgeous waterfall.

Normally, gallons of water cascade over the mammoth rocks; but because of the severe drought in central Texas, visitors are now walking over and around the exposed and dry boulders.

At the public swimming hole, though, families were taking advantage of the shallow, cool waters. Shaded picnic areas had plenty of room where campers were barbecuing, relaxing underneath the aged oaks or taking naps.

We saw a sign for a bird viewing sanctuary and we pulled off, curious as to what we'd find. The Friends of Pedernales State Park had built two bird viewing areas, and their love for wildlife was evident everywhere.

Volunteers had constructed two wooden bird blinds with benches inside a covered area and an open area on the other. A natural wall, created by large branches, enclosed a cleared area that contained logs, bird feeders and a water fountain. Panes of glass separated the two areas, providing a perfect viewing area.

On a table inside the blind, volunteers had filled albums with photos and information about the birds that regularly visit the sanctuary. There was also an opening near the partition so photographers could snap pictures without bothering the shy songbirds and scavenging squirrels and mice.

We sat and quietly watched brightly colored birds dart in and out of the trees and settle on the cedar logs to feast on bird seed, kindly left by the volunteers.

Male cardinals lit on the logs, fighting with each other as the female cardinals quietly scooped up the bird seed scattered by the scarlet-colored males. A huge Western blue jay took a spot on the water fountain as if to proclaim himself king of the sanctuary.

The small goldfinches, wrens and mourning doves paid scant attention to that big bird, choosing instead to grab a quick snack and then dart back into the cover of the nearby trees. Birds in a rainbow of colors visited the sanctuary, and their songs echoed through the trees.

A quote by naturalist John Burroughs on the park's Website sums up what we and thousands of other visitors realize when visiting this quiet spot -- "I come here to find myself. It's so easy to get lost in the world."

We thought we went on vacation to visit trendy restaurants, snazzy tourist shops and Texas wineries. In reality, we discovered exactly what we needed in the quiet of a state park, far away from cash registers and over-priced knick knacks.

We found serenity.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.