I Was Expecting Teepees

I had been looking forward to Mission Tejas State Park for a long time, because I had read that it was home to the first Spanish mission in what would become Texas. So I knew I was heading somewhere historical.

I also had a completely wrong picture in my head of what I was going to find. For some ridiculous reason, I was expecting teepees.

What I found instead was better. Jerry and I stopped here on our way down to Galveston Island, arriving early enough in the day that the July heat had not yet settled in. The park greeted us with tall pines, a quiet pond, and more layers of history than almost any park I have visited so far on this journey.

This is stop 22 of 88 on my quest to visit every Texas state park, and it is the first one where I felt the history of a place as strongly as its nature.

Some places you walk through. This one, you walk with.

A Road Older Than Texas Itself

Long before there was a Texas, there was a road.

The Caddo people traveled it first. Later, the Spanish followed the same path and named it El Camino Real — the Royal Road — a route that eventually stretched some 2,500 miles from Mexico all the way into Louisiana. That ancient roadway passes right through what is now Mission Tejas State Park, and there is a section of the original road you can actually walk today.

Think about that for a moment. You can put your own two feet on a path that people have been walking for centuries.

In 1690, Spanish friars built Mission San Francisco de los Tejas near a Caddo village here — the first Spanish mission in East Texas. The mission itself did not last long, but its name did. “Tejas” comes from the Caddo word for friend, and it is the word that eventually became Texas. In a very real way, the name of our entire state started in these woods.

The Mission in the Pines

The building that stands in Mission Tejas State Park today is a commemorative log structure, built in the 1930s by the young men of the Civilian Conservation Corps, who also carved out the trails and the park itself. Stepping inside, it is quiet and simple — hand-hewn logs, soft light, and that particular stillness that old (and old-style) buildings seem to hold.

And if, like me, you enjoy history, there is yet another treasure on the park grounds: the Rice Family Log Home. Joseph and Willie Masters Rice came to Texas from Tennessee in 1828 and began building it along El Camino Real, adding onto it over the years, and it sheltered travelers on that old road for generations before it was moved to the park for safekeeping. The construction itself is worth a slow walk around — a plaque at the house explains that its log-building style traces back to German building traditions, something quite unusual for this part of Texas at the time.

The Sketch: A Pond Like Glass

Mission Tejas State Park does not have a lake. What it has instead is a small, supremely peaceful pond, reached by a quaint little footbridge — and honestly, I did not miss the lake one bit.

I found a bench at the water’s edge, pulled out my number 3 pen, and started sketching the trees along the bank. The water was like glass. The only sounds were birds, insects, and wind moving through the pines.

Sketching does for me what any good ritual does: it asks me to focus on something outside myself for a little while. Whatever I walked in carrying — worry, stress, the to-do list — gets set down on the bench beside me while my pen is moving. It does not have to take long. It just has to take me out of my own head.

A Tiny Ritual: Notice What Has Been Here Longer Than You

If you want to take one thing from this park visit, take this.

Wherever you are — a park, a porch, a parking lot with one stubborn tree — take one slow breath and notice what has been here longer than you. At Mission Tejas, that was easy: the road, the mission site, the pines, the pond. But it works anywhere, because nature has always been here longer than we have.

Then listen for one sound around you. And let yourself be part of the place, just for a moment.

That is the whole ritual. One breath, one noticing, one sound. I do a version of it at every park now, and it has helped me see things I never would have slowed down enough to notice before.

Small in the Fabric of Time — and Strangely Comforted by It

Whenever I get to sit for a while in a historical place like this, I am reminded of just how small our own place is in the enormous fabric of time. The Caddo walked this ground centuries before the friars arrived in 1690. The CCC boys swung their axes here almost a century ago. And the pines were here before any of them.

That does not diminish anyone’s contributions — ours included. Our actions absolutely affect the people around us, and they can shape what comes after us. But through it all, time continues to march on.

I find that thought not only grounding, but strangely reassuring. When times feel turbulent — now, or in any chapter of history — it helps to stand on a road that has already outlasted so much, and trust that things will keep going and work themselves out.

We are each a small stitch in a very long thread. I think that is good news.

The Soap That Stayed Home

Now, a confession. I usually tuck a bar of my own soap into the bag for these trips — a small piece of the shop that comes along for the ritual of washing up after a morning on the trail. This time, packed up and headed for Galveston, I drove off without a single bar. Not one.

And you know what? The park did not mind, and neither did I. The ritual that mattered that day was the slow breath by the pond, not anything I could have carried in. My soaps have always been meant to support those quiet moments, not replace them — and Mission Tejas was a gentle reminder that the quiet comes first.

(The soap got its turn when I got home. It usually does.)

Stamping Park Number 22

Mission Tejas State Park is stop 22 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Atlanta State Park came before this one, and next up is Martin Dies, Jr. State Park.

Each stamp in that passport book is a small, satisfying piece of proof. Proof that I showed up. Proof that even a travel day on the way to somewhere else can hold a quiet hour that changes how the whole trip feels.

If You Love a Little History with Your Nature

Whatever park is closest to you, I would gently encourage you to go — and if you can find one with some history in it, all the better. There is something about sitting still in a place where so many others have passed through that puts an ordinary day in its proper place.

Mission Tejas State Park offers natural beauty, yes — but also visual and historical treasures: a road older than Texas, a mission that gave our state its name, and a pond that will hold perfectly still while you sketch it.

Practical Notes for Your Mission Tejas Visit

• Location: Near Grapeland in the Weches community, Houston County, along State Highway 21 in East Texas — the modern highway follows the route of El Camino Real
• Don’t miss: The section of the original El Camino Real you can walk, the commemorative mission structure, and the Rice Family Log Home
• For sketchers and sitters: The small pond, reached by a little footbridge, has bench seating and water like glass in the early morning
• Timing tip: Go early in the day during summer months — we arrived before the heat set in, and it made all the difference
• Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go
• What to bring: Water, walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you — and whatever small ritual you like to carry (I clearly cannot be trusted to remember mine)

Frequently Asked Questions

Mission Tejas State Park is stop 22 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Next up: Martin Dies, Jr. State Park. New episodes post every Friday — subscribe to follow along.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Handcrafted Natural Soaps & Skin Care

Coming In Already Calm

I arrived at Atlanta State Park coming off a visit to Caddo Lake — which meant, for once, I was already grounded before I even stepped out of the car.

That is an unusual way to arrive somewhere new. Most of my park days begin with a kind of gradual settling, a slow exhale that takes the first mile of trail to complete. But that day, I had already done my settling at Caddo Lake. The noise had already quieted. I came to Atlanta State Park with room in me for something different: pure discovery.

And Atlanta State Park is a place made for discovery.

This is stop 21 of 88 on my journey to visit every Texas state park — and I had genuinely never heard much about this one before I arrived.

Sometimes the parks you know least about are the ones that surprise you most.

A Lake I Did Not Know Was There

The first thing I want to say about Atlanta State Park is this: there is a big lake.

I did not know it was there. I did not expect it. And that sense of finding something you were not looking for — that is, for me, one of the quieter joys of this whole journey.

The park sits along Wright Patman Lake in deep East Texas, not far from the town of Atlanta. There is a small beach, a swimming area, picnic tables tucked into the shade. On the day I visited, a lifeguard sign stood at the edge of the water, cheerfully informing visitors that no lifeguard was on duty — a detail I have come to recognize as a universal constant of Texas state parks.

There were birds down near the water. A long, lovely view across the surface of the lake. And just behind the beach, trails leading into the trees.

I was glad I came. I was glad I did not know what was waiting.

The Trail the Ranger Suggested

I asked a park ranger which trail to try, and he pointed me toward a path through the trees — one of those shaded, root-tangled trails that feels more like disappearing than hiking.

I did not go far. I never do, when I am carrying a sketchbook and looking for a place to sit. What I was really looking for was a spot where I could be still.

I found it about the time I stopped trying to find it.

The Sketch: Ferns and Something Older

There is a stretch of trail at Atlanta State Park where ferns grow low along the ground, soft and layered, with old branches and weathered wood resting behind them. I set up there with my sketchbook and my Micron pens — I carry four of them, nothing more, because simplicity is part of the ritual — and I started to sketch.

I used a heavier pen first, to capture the branch behind the ferns. Then I switched back to a finer weight to add the leaves.

Sketching at a park is not about making a beautiful drawing. It is about having a reason to sit still long enough to actually see something. The ferns were right in front of me the whole time, but I did not really see them until I started drawing them.

Jerry was with me, as he almost always is on these park days. He cannot handle the Texas heat, so he waits in the car with the air conditioning running — patient and unfussed, for however long it takes. I am grateful for that patience more than I say.

The Tiny Ritual I Brought Home

I want to share something I took from Atlanta State Park that I think you can use too — and you do not have to be at a park to do it.

It is a two-question ritual. Simple and short.

First, put both feet flat on the ground. Then take a slow breath and ask yourself: What do I need less of today?

Sit with that for a moment. You will know the answer quickly. For me, that day, it was less distraction. Less noise.

Then take another breath and ask: What would help me feel a little more like myself?

For me, it was slowness. A little more patience with everything.

And then — this is the part I want you to carry with you — allow yourself to realize that you do not have to solve everything.

You only have to notice the answer.

That is it. That is the whole ritual. Two questions, two breaths, one quiet acknowledgment.

What Atlanta State Park Reminded Me

Toward the end of my visit, I found myself thinking about what makes a day worthwhile.

Not the big things. Not the momentous events.

The drive to Atlanta State Park, through hilly East Texas roads with trees close on both sides — that was lovely, all by itself. The ferns along the trail. The surprise of the lake. Jerry waiting in the car, uncomplaining.

These are small things. And somehow, they are also the whole of it.

The good things in life are not great big momentous events. They are those little special moments, the ones you can choose to enjoy.

Atlanta State Park reminded me that every place you go, if you slow down enough, has something new to learn, something new to enjoy. Even a park you have never heard of. Even a Tuesday drive through the East Texas hills.

Every stop on this journey is teaching me the same thing, just in a slightly different language.

Stamping Park Number 21

Atlanta State Park is stop 21 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Caddo Lake State Park came just before this one — two parks in the same trip, which left me more settled than I expected.

Next up is Mission Tejas State Park — a visit I am already looking forward to, for reasons I will share when I get there.

If This Resonated With You

If you have been carrying too much lately — too much noise, too many things to solve — I hope you will try the two-question ritual. You do not need a park, a sketchbook, or a long afternoon. You just need a slow breath and a willingness to notice.

Atlanta State Park gave me a lake I did not know was there, a trail through the ferns, and a reminder that discovery is available to anyone willing to slow down enough to find it.

That is enough. It is always enough.

Practical Notes for Your Atlanta State Park Visit

Location: Cass County, Texas, near Atlanta, Texas, along Wright Patman Lake

Trail to try: The wooded trails along the lake offer shaded walking and quiet spots well suited to sketching or simply sitting still

Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go

Park highlight: The surprise of Wright Patman Lake — larger and more beautiful than you might expect

What to bring: Water, sunscreen, good walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you, and a willingness to be surprised

Good to know: If the heat is a concern, come early — or bring someone patient who does not mind the air conditioning

Frequently Asked Questions

Atlanta State Park is stop 21 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Next up: Mission Tejas State Park. New episodes post every Friday — subscribe to follow along.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More – Blog Posts following Texas State Park Journey

I came to Caddo Lake State Park with a simple hope: to find a little peace, a little calm. Parks are good at that — I have never once left one feeling worse than when I arrived. But I did not want to rush through. I wanted to slow down, take my time, and notice what this corner of East Texas had to offer.

What I found went far beyond what I came looking for. But I am getting ahead of myself.

This is stop 20 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest, and Caddo Lake turned out to be one of the most quietly magical stops on the whole journey so far.

Sometimes you come for peace, and what you find is something closer to wonder.

Walking the Caddo Forest Trail

The first thing I did at Caddo Lake State Park was walk a bit of the Caddo Forest Trail. The path has rails along the sides and soft sand underfoot — designed specifically so that even visitors who are blind could navigate it independently. I did not expect that detail, and it stayed with me.

There is a term for what happens to me on trails like this: forest bathing. I did not coin it, and I cannot fully explain it, but I know it when I feel it. Within a few minutes of stepping under the canopy, something in me just settled. My blood pressure, I am convinced, dropped several points without my doing anything at all.

The birds were the first sound I really noticed. Songbirds, mostly — the kind you hear without quite being able to place. Very cool does not begin to cover it.

Forest bathing is something you feel before you fully understand it.

The Sketch: Bald Cypress at the Water’s Edge

In another part of the park is The Pier. It is the primary viewing area for Caddo Lake where you can out over the lake itself. From there you can see them: the bald cypress trees. Dozens of them, standing in the water, draped in Spanish moss that hangs down like something from a dream. The cicadas were going. The water was still. It was, I said out loud to no one in particular, almost like another world.

Jerry and I came to Caddo Lake once before, years ago, and we took an airboat trip out through the cypress groves — because a regular boat struggles to navigate through all the trees, unless you are in the open stretches. I saw a visitor with a kayak while I was standing on the pier, and that would work too. But the first time you stand on that pier and look out at the moss-draped cypress trees stretching as far as you can see, a boat feels beside the point.

I always find something to sketch at each park — something that feels like the soul of that particular place. At Caddo Lake, the soul was obvious the moment I glanced down from the pier.

Just below the railing, where the water met the bank, there was a tangle of cypress roots and stumps, moss-softened and ancient-looking, with lily pads floating just past them. I was not looking for something impressive. I was not trying to capture the whole lake. I was just looking down, and there it was.

I set up to sketch right there by the pier and just kind of dove in — which is, honestly, how I approach most things. I think it through first, and then at some point I just decide that it is not going to happen unless I go for it. I started with the basic outlines and shapes, then worked in the texture and shading as I went.

I find sitting and sketching to be deeply peaceful in a way that is hard to explain unless you have tried it. It makes me notice things I would have missed entirely. If I had not been looking for something to draw, I would have walked out to the end of that pier, glanced around, and headed back. I never would have found that little pocket of roots and moss and lily pads just below the railing.

Slowing down does not just give you rest — it gives you access to things that were already there, waiting to be noticed.

Three Breaths, Two Sounds, One Thing to Notice

Before I left the pier, I tried something I have been weaving into each park visit: a small, quiet ritual. Simple enough that you can do it anywhere — not just at a state park, but sitting in your car in a parking lot, or in your backyard, or at your desk.

Three slow breaths. One. Two. Three.

Then: two sounds you might have missed if you were moving too quickly. Sitting still at Caddo Lake, I heard at least three different birds — a big one calling from across the water, the regular songbirds, and something cawing nearby. The lake sounded different than I expected. Quieter in some places, busier in others.

Then: one thing to give your full attention for a moment. For me, at Caddo Lake, it was all of it together — the stumps, the lily pads, the moss climbing the tree trunk, the whole small scene right in front of me.

Three breaths. Two sounds. One thing to notice.

You do not need to be at a state park for this to work. You just need a moment, and a willingness to use it.

That is the whole ritual. It took less than three minutes. It did more than I expected.

Stamping Park Visit #20

Caddo Lake State Park is stop #20 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Meridian State Park came before this one, and the next stop on the journey will be Atlanta State Park — somewhere I have never been, so I am already looking forward to it.

Every stamp in the passport is a small piece of proof. Proof that I showed up. Proof that I gave myself the time to be somewhere, fully, instead of just passing through.

If You Need a Quiet Miracle

I came to Caddo Lake State Park looking for calm and peace. I found both. But I also found something I was not expecting — a sense of magic, of mystery, of a world that operates by different rules than the one I usually inhabit.

A fish jumped while I was sitting there. Just out of nowhere, out in the lake. That felt exactly right.

Whatever is closest to you — whatever park, whatever trail, whatever patch of quiet — I hope you will go. You do not need a plan. You do not need to sketch. You just need to slow down long enough to notice something. That is when the magic sneaks up on you.

So try it. Try that tiny ritual. And join me on the next park visit.

Practical Notes for Your Caddo Lake Visit

•  Location: Karnack, Texas, in the Piney Woods of East Texas, near the Louisiana border

•  Trail to try: The Caddo Forest Trail offers a peaceful, accessible walk with rails and soft sand underfoot — thoughtfully designed for visitors of all abilities

•  Park highlight: The primary viewing pier, where bald cypress trees draped in Spanish moss create one of the most atmospheric scenes in the Texas state park system

•  On the water: Canoe, kayak, or guided airboat tours are available — a regular motorboat struggles to navigate the dense cypress shallows

•  Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go

•  What to bring: Water, sunscreen, good walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you, and patience — Caddo Lake rewards those who slow down

•  Nearby note: Caddo Lake is in far East Texas near the Louisiana border — plan for the drive and consider an overnight stay if you are pairing it with Atlanta State Park

Frequently Asked Questions

References

Texas State Parks Website

Other Texas State Parks Visited So Far

Some park days arrive perfectly. The light is right, the trail is easy, and you come home feeling restored. Meridian State Park was not that kind of day — and I think it still counts.

I drove to Meridian because I needed to feel grounded. The book is almost finished. The inventory for the state fair is building up. Somewhere between all of it, I needed a trail and some quiet. The park had other ideas.

It was brutally hot. I missed the pond I was looking for. I should have put more gas in my car before I left home. And even with all of that, I found one worthwhile thing. Stay with me.

This is stop 19 of 88 on my journey to visit every Texas state park.

When the Park Has Other Ideas

I want to be honest with you about this visit, because I think the honest version is the more useful one.

I came to Meridian State Park carrying the particular kind of tired that builds up slowly, over weeks. The book. The soap inventory for the state fair. The content schedule. None of it is bad — all of it is something I love — but there is a weight to holding a lot of moving pieces at once, and I had been holding them for a while.

It had been several weeks since I had been to a park. That is too long for me. I know that about myself now, after nineteen stops on this quest.

So I drove to Meridian.

And then it was hot. Genuinely, brutally hot. I missed the pond I had in mind and walked a little more than I intended. I glanced at the gas gauge on the way and thought about it more than I should have for the rest of the visit. None of it went the way I planned.

In some ways, it’s kind of hard to step all the way back from the real-world overwhelm. But it definitely helps.

That is the honest version. Partially grounded. Partially still in my head. And still worth the drive.

The Thing Worth Staying For

What I found was a cactus.

Not the pond. Not a shaded grove with a breeze. A cactus, standing there in the heat, doing exactly what it does — which is survive, without apology, in conditions that would discourage most things.

I sat down in front of it, hot and a little deflated, and started drawing. I do not know that the cactus solved anything. But it gave me something to look at closely and something to do slowly, which is, honestly, part of the whole point of why I sketch at every park.

Sometimes that is what a tiny ritual is. Not fixing everything. Just giving yourself one quiet thing to stay with.

Cactus grows all through Texas, and there was something right about choosing it on this particular day. It is not a flower you have to catch at just the right moment. It does not need much. It just keeps going.

That felt like the right subject.

Chocolate Mint: The Scent I Packed for the Heat

Before I sat down to sketch, I reached into my bag.

Chocolate Mint is one of the earliest scents I ever made — one of the first that became part of my own regular routine. Mint has always felt cooling and refreshing to me, and on a hot Texas afternoon at a state park, that felt like exactly the right instinct. I did not overthink it. I just packed it.

There is something grounding about carrying something you made yourself. Something that has been part of your routine long enough to feel like an old friend. It did not fix the heat. But it helped.

Your Tiny Ritual for Today

Write down one thing in your life that is still going — even without perfect conditions.

It does not have to be something you have finished. It does not even have to be something you are proud of right now.

Just notice it. Name it. That is enough for today.

Stamping Park Number 19

Meridian State Park is stop 19 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Cleburne State Park came before this one. Next up is Caddo Lake State Park — a very different kind of landscape, and one I have been looking forward to for a while.

Each stamp in this book is proof that I showed up. Even on the hard days. Even when the park does not go the way I planned.

If You Are Carrying a Lot Right Now

Wherever you are in the middle of your own busy season, I want to gently say: go to the park anyway. Even if it is hot. Even if you miss the trail you were looking for. Even if the visit is, as mine was this time, sort of a mixed bag.

It still helps. The quiet still matters. And sometimes the thing that catches your eye — a cactus, standing in the heat without complaint — is exactly the reminder you needed.

Meridian State Park is stop 19 of 88. Caddo Lake is next. See you there.

Practical Notes for Your Meridian SP Visit

• Location: Meridian, Texas, in Bosque County
• Trail to try: The park has a small lake and hiking trails through rugged Hill Country cedar and oak — beautiful even in the heat
• Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go
• Park highlight: The small, spring-fed lake at the center of the park is worth finding — check the map before you leave the trailhead
• What to bring: Water — more than you think you need — sunscreen, good walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you, and something grounding for afterward
• Nearby: The town of Meridian is small and quiet; worth a stop on your way in or out

Frequently Asked Questions

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Chocolate Mint Soap

Meridian State Park is stop 19 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Next up: Caddo Lake State Park. New videos post every Friday on my Youtube Channel — subscribe to follow along.

Discover It

That is the word I keep coming back to for Cleburne State Park. Discover it.

I had never been here before, which is still one of the things I love most about this quest — pulling up to a park for the very first time and not knowing what I am going to find. Will there be water? Hills? Open meadows? A little history tucked into a quiet corner? That anticipation never gets old, and Cleburne delivered it fully.

This is stop 18 of 88 on my journey to visit every Texas state park. I came on a Thursday morning, a little overcast, and walked straight out onto the fishing pier to get my first real look at the lake. The birds were singing. The water was calm. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds and scatter little sparks across the surface.

I do not think life can hardly get better than this.

Walking the Park

Cleburne State Park is not a particularly large park, but it manages to feel spacious. The road does not go all the way around — the hiking trails do — and the trail system here has a nice variety to it. The pink trail markers, I eventually figured out, tell you which trail you are on. That day I wandered toward the Coyote Run Nature Trail at the far end of the park.

The terrain shifts as you go. What starts near the water gets hillier, gravel-heavy, and geological in a way I cannot quite name — I am not a geologist — but the landscape changes in a way you feel underfoot. Driving up from Glen Rose, the vistas opened up wide, and something about the whole area has a grounded, ancient feeling to it.

I stopped to film the reeds along the edge of the lake, the trees, the birds doing what birds do when no one is asking them to be quiet. There was no one else around. Just me and the camera and all of that still, ordinary beauty.

A Park for the People

Somewhere along the way, I stopped in front of a historical sign that I had to film.

A park for the people. During the Great Depression, this community chose hope in the form of a park.

During the Great Depression, this community chose hope — in the form of a park. One man donated 520 acres of Texas land and said, simply, that this community deserved something beautiful. The men who built it through the Civilian Conservation Corps worked double shifts. The government ran short on time. A world war interrupted everything. And still, it got finished. Still standing, more than 85 years later.

I stood there for a moment and just let that sit with me.

During the worst depression in American history, someone looked at 520 acres and said: this community deserves something beautiful. And then they built it.

The Sketch: The CCC Bridge

I knew before I even opened my sketchbook what I wanted to draw.

Near the end of my walk I found the old CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) bridge — built in 1935, no longer drivable, now just a quiet walking path leading to something that has been standing through every interruption imaginable. World wars. Decades. Seasons beyond counting. There is a newer bridge nearby for cars, and then there is this one — still here, still lovely, the stones still holding.

I set up to sketch and it started to sprinkle. Then the sun came out. Then it clouded over again. That is the thing about Cleburne on a Thursday in the clouds — the light never quite makes up its mind, and somehow that made the whole scene feel more honest.

I brought my patchouli soap with me that day. It is a grounding scent, earthy and deep, and I have always reached for it when I need to feel steady. A historical park felt like exactly the right place for it. I pulled it out during the sketch, just held it for a moment, and it was enough.

I am not a great artist. I have said this before and I mean it. I was an art major once, a long time ago, but that is not why I sketch. I sketch because I love it. And I want to encourage you to do the same with whatever it is that calls to you — whether you are good at it or not. Do not let the gap between where you are and where you wish you were stop you from showing up.

The bridge has been here since 1935. The builders were not sure it would get finished. They showed up anyway.

What We Keep Building

I have been thinking about this a lot lately.

The things we keep building even when everything keeps interrupting.

The book. The next park. The next song. Your tiny ritual for this morning, whatever it is. It can feel small, especially when the interruptions pile up and the plan keeps changing and the light shifts just when you had it right. But the park is still standing. What you are building will be too.

Write down one thing you are building right now. Date it. Tuck it somewhere you will find it later.

That is what Cleburne gave me — not just a lake and a sketch and a beautiful old bridge, but a reminder that beauty worth having almost always gets interrupted on the way to being finished. And it gets built anyway.

Nature has a way of doing this, too — reminding you that being outside is good for your skin and your spirit and your soul. All three S’s, I always say. The light, the air, the stillness. It works on you even when you are not paying attention.

Patchouli Soap: What I Carried That Day

I brought my Patchouli Soap to Cleburne State Park because patchouli is grounding, and this felt like a grounding kind of park. Old stones. Old trees. History you can touch.

I first made this soap for myself years ago because I wanted something earthy and real for the days when I needed to feel rooted. That is still why I reach for it. Not because of anything on a label — just because of how it makes me feel when I hold it.

On the CCC bridge, surrounded by stones that have been standing for nearly a century, it made sense to have it close.

Stamping Park Visit Number 18

Cleburne State Park is stop 18 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Dinosaur Valley came just before — that quiet park along the Paluxy River where we found fossil tracks and I sketched a spiky little shrub along the Monarch Trail. From Dinosaur Valley, Jerry and I spent the night in Glen Rose and drove to Cleburne the next morning.

Next up is Meridian State Park — stop 19, and another park I have never visited. I cannot wait to see what I discover there.

Each stamp is proof that I showed up. Proof that the journey is continuing, one park at a time, even when the morning is overcast and the rain comes and goes and the light never quite settles.

Especially then.

If You Need to Discover Something New

Go find a park you have never been to before.

You do not need to know what is there. That is the whole point. Let it surprise you. Let there be a historical marker you did not expect, or a trail that shifts underfoot, or an old bridge that has been standing longer than you have been alive.

Cleburne State Park gave me bits and pieces of beauty — sun in and out, old bridges and new bridges, birds and reeds and an honest sprinkle of rain. I loved all of it. And I think you might, too.

Practical Notes for Your Cleburne State Park Visit

• Location: Cleburne, Texas — a short drive from Glen Rose, making it a natural pair with Dinosaur Valley State Park
• Trail to try: The Coyote Run Nature Trail winds to the far end of the park through hillier, gravel-covered terrain — beautiful and quieter than the main lake area
• Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go
• Park highlight: The historic CCC bridge, built in 1935 during the Great Depression — still standing, no longer open to vehicles, and quietly extraordinary
• What to bring: Water, good walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you, and something grounding for the walk
• Nearby stay: Glen Rose is a lovely overnight base if you are pairing this visit with Dinosaur Valley State Park

Frequently Asked Questions

Cleburne State Park is stop 18 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Next up: Meridian State Park. New episodes post every Friday — subscribe to follow along.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Patchouli Soap

Sometimes the Escape Finds You

I did not plan this visit to Dinosaur Valley State Park the way I plan most of my park days. The truth is, I came here because I needed to leave something behind for a few hours.

My internet had been down all morning at the house, and with it went every plan I had for the day. I felt that particular kind of modern frustration that comes from relying on something invisible and then losing it without warning — a small loss of control that somehow felt larger than it should have. So instead of fighting it, I got in the car and drove to Dinosaur Valley State Park.

This is stop 17 of 88 on my journey to visit every Texas state park, and it turned out to be exactly the kind of stop I needed.

Sometimes the best plan is the one you did not make at all.

Walking the Monarch Trail

Dinosaur Valley State Park sits along the Paluxy River, where dinosaur tracks were left in limestone millions of years ago — a detail that has a strange way of putting a bad morning into perspective.

I decided to walk down the Monarch Trail a little way, just looking for a shady spot to sit and sketch. This is, honestly, one of my favorite parts of visiting any park — that stretch of trail where you start to disappear into the trees and the noise of the day falls away behind you.

Partway down the trail, I found that shady spot. The greenery felt almost like an explosion — layered, wild, and very much alive. It was the right kind of overwhelming.

The Sketch: A Little Spiky Shrub

I do not always sketch the most obvious feature of a park. At Dinosaur Valley, with the famous dinosaur tracks just down the road, I sat down instead with a small, spiky little shrub that caught my eye along the trail.

It felt right for the day. My emotions had been, as I put it out loud while I was drawing, kind of exploding everywhere — and there was something satisfying about sketching a plant that looked exactly that way. Chaotic in the best sense. Alive in the same restless way I felt.

A few hikers passed by while I worked and asked what I was doing — a nice little reminder that slowing down in public tends to invite connection, not just curiosity. By the time the sketch was finished, the noise in my head had quieted considerably.

Grounded by Something Much Older Than My Wi-Fi

There is something genuinely grounding about sitting in a place where dinosaurs once walked. Whatever frustration I carried in with me about a few hours of lost internet access felt very small next to that kind of timescale.

I first visited this park decades ago, in college, as part of a botany class field trip. Back then, you could walk right up to the edge of the cliffs and look down at the dinosaur tracks below. Things have changed quite a bit since I was nineteen or twenty — and I am closer to sixty-nine now than I would like to admit out loud — but the magic of this place has not changed at all. It is still here. It is still real.

The magic of being in the park is still here. It is still real.

That is, I think, the heart of what this whole journey keeps teaching me. The seasons of our lives change. Our skin changes. Our energy changes. But the things that genuinely restore us — quiet, nature, a little bit of creative attention — those stay remarkably constant.

Bay Rum Shampoo Bar: What I Carried That Day

I brought my Bay Rum Shampoo Bar with me to Dinosaur Valley State Park, mostly because the scent felt like it fit. Bay Rum is a classic, spicy fragrance — often thought of as masculine, though plenty of women love it too — and there was something about its warmth that matched the grounded, earthy feeling of this particular park.

I did not make this bar to chase a trend. I made it because I wanted something simple and dependable in my own routine — a product that did one thing well after a few hours outdoors, with ingredients I actually understood. That philosophy has not changed in over twenty years of making soap.

Products like this were never meant to be the point of a park visit. They are just part of how I take care of myself while I am out here — the same way the sketchbook is, and the same way a quiet walk down a shaded trail is.

Stamping Park #17

Dinosaur Valley State Park is stop #17 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Fort Parker came before this one, and tomorrow morning, after spending the night nearby in Glen Rose, Jerry and I will head to Cleburne State Park for stop 18.

Each stamp in that passport book is a small, satisfying piece of proof. Proof that I showed up. Proof that I gave myself the escape I needed, even on a day that did not go according to plan.

If You Need a Little Escape, Too

Whatever park is closest to you, I would gently encourage you to go. You do not need a perfect plan or even a particularly good reason. A lost internet connection and a restless morning were reason enough for me.

Dinosaur Valley State Park reminded me that the magic in these places does not depend on how things have changed around them — the trails, the trackways, the quiet — it is still here, waiting, exactly when you need it.

Practical Notes for a Dinosaur Valley State Park Visit

• Location: Glen Rose, Texas, along the Paluxy River
• Trail to try: The Monarch Trail offers shaded stretches that are perfect for sketching or simply sitting still
• Day use hours and entrance fees: Standard Texas State Park rates apply — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go
• Park highlight: Fossilized dinosaur tracks along the riverbed, best viewed when water levels are low
• What to bring: Water, sunscreen, good walking shoes, a sketchbook if that calls to you, and something grounding for afterward
• Nearby stay: Glen Rose makes a lovely overnight base if you are pairing this visit with Cleburne State Park, as we did

Frequently Asked Questions

Dinosaur Valley State Park is stop 17 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. Next up: Cleburne State Park. New episodes post every Friday — subscribe to follow along.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Bay Rum Shampoo Bar

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This Is About What Happens When You Actually Stop

I was stressed before I even got to Fort Parker State Park. A frustrating detour through town, fifteen minutes stuck at one light — I arrived carrying all of it. But something about pulling up to the edge of that lake and hearing the birds settled things inside me almost immediately.

Fort Parker State Park sits on the shores of Lake Fort Parker near Mexia, Texas, and it is the kind of place that has no interest in rushing you along. Open water on three sides of a quiet point of land, birds moving across the surface in steady unhurried arcs, and a stillness that feels almost deliberate. I came here for stop 16 of my journey through all 88 Texas State Parks — and Fort Parker gave me exactly what I needed.

Peace. Not the kind you stumble into when life finally cooperates. The kind you find when you make yourself stop long enough to receive it.

I don’t know how it is, but every park I go to seems to give me exactly what I need.

Stop 16 of 88: The Journey Continues

My Texas State Parks Passport gets a unique stamp at each of the 88 parks in the system. Lake Whitney was stop 15 — a beautiful, wide-open place with its own kind of quiet. Fort Parker is stop 16, and each one teaches me something a little different.

The passport is my way of keeping the journey honest. It’s physical proof that I was there, that I stayed long enough to notice something, that I showed up for myself one more time. When I get that stamp, something settles — a small, satisfying click of presence.

The Sketch: Sometimes the Stump Is the Point

I always debate what to sketch when I arrive at a new park. Fort Parker State Park offered plenty — the lake, the treeline, the sweep of water catching the light. But it was a tree stump sitting near the shore that stopped me.

There is something honest about a stump. It is not trying to be impressive. It simply exists in its quiet, settled way, rooted in a place it is not going anywhere from. On a day when I had been moving too fast and carrying too much, it felt like exactly the right subject.

Pretty hard to get more peaceful than a stump.

I changed pens a couple of times as I worked — just to vary the line weight, keep the drawing from going too uniform. The overcast sky when I arrived softened everything, and then the sun came out partway through, and suddenly there were shadows moving under the trees. Either way, it was beautiful.

By the time I finished, the internal noise had quieted. That is what sketching in places like Fort Parker State Park does. It is not decorative. It is one of the most practical tools I own for tending to myself well.

What the Birds at Fort Parker Reminded Me

The birds at Fort Parker State Park were extraordinary. They floated across the lake in steady, unhurried lines. They perched in the bushes near where I was sketching, completely unbothered by my presence. Every few minutes, another small group would drift across the water and disappear into the treeline.

I kept wanting to pull whoever was watching through the screen right into that moment with me — because what Fort Parker offers is not dramatic or photogenic in an obvious way. It is just genuinely peaceful. Quietly, completely peaceful. And that is rarer than it sounds.

Lemongrass Soap: What I Carried and Why

I brought my Lemongrass Soap to Fort Parker State Park. The scent — a blend of lemongrass, litsea, and cedarwood — just felt right for a place like this. Bright but grounded. Clean but earthy. I actually formulated it years ago because I wanted something that could hold both.

I forgot to pull it out until I was already settled in my sketching spot — which is honestly very on-brand for me. But once I did, that combination of warm sun and fresh air and the lemongrass scent was exactly the kind of grounding moment this park deserved. The yellow color comes from yellow cornmeal, which is one of my favorite small details about that bar.

Scent is powerful in ways that go beyond just smelling good. It transports you. It grounds you. After a couple of hours in the Texas air, a simple cleanse with something formulated from the ground up — not against your skin, but with it — closes the day in a way that feels like care, not just habit.

The Reset Fort Parker State Park Gave Me

There is something measurable that happens when you step into a genuinely quiet outdoor space. Chronic stress drives cortisol production, and cortisol is one of the quieter contributors to dull skin, systemic inflammation, and the kind of slow exhaustion that builds without you noticing it. When we actually stop — not just scroll more quietly, but truly stop — we give the body a chance to begin repairing.

Fort Parker State Park is good medicine in that way. Not because of any dramatic feature, but because of what it does to your nervous system when you sit still on a point of land surrounded by water and let the birds do the talking for a while.

I wish I could just reach through and pull you in and let you find your peace too. I know you would.

The Quest: 88 Parks, One Practice

This is stop 16 of 88, and I am more convinced with each park that this journey is less about visiting places and more about practicing showing up. Fort Parker State Park is a place I would not have known to seek out. The Texas State Parks Quest put it on my map, and Fort Parker took care of the rest.

Next up: Dinosaur Valley State Park. I have a feeling that one will have something to say too.

If you are in a similar season — looking for a way to reconnect with yourself, slow your pace, and approach your life with more care and less urgency — you are welcome to walk this with me.

Practical Notes for Your Fort Parker Visit

• Location: Park Road 28, Mexia, TX 76667
• Day use hours: Typically 8 AM to 10 PM — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website
• Entrance fee: Standard Texas State Park day use fees apply; the Annual Pass is worth it if you plan multiple visits
• Park highlight: The open, lake-facing point of land — spend time here and let the birds find you
• What to bring: Water, sunscreen, a sketchbook or journal if that is your thing, comfortable shoes, and something grounding for the drive home
• Best time to visit: Overcast mornings are especially peaceful; spring and fall offer the best birdwatching
• Worth noting: Fort Parker State Park is quieter and less trafficked than many Central Texas parks — which is exactly the point

FAQs About Fort Parker State Park

Fort Parker State Park is stop 16 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. If this resonated with you, share it with someone else who is ready to stop moving long enough to find their peace. Follow along on my YouTube Channel Here. If you prefer to read instead of watch; blog posts are here..

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Lemongrass Soap

Watch the Video

The Water First

I went straight to the lake when I arrived. That’s just what I do.

It wasn’t a still, glassy afternoon — the water was moving, the sun was bright, and it was one of those genuinely beautiful Texas days where the light does something wonderful on the surface of a lake. I walked along the edge for a while, just taking it in. There were wildflowers scattered along the bank, and I stopped more than once just to look at them.

I didn’t need to be anywhere. I wasn’t trying to cover ground or check off features. I was just walking by the water at Lake Whitney State Park, and that was more than enough.

The Bridge

After the lake, I made my way to the Two Bridges Trail. I didn’t go far — I didn’t need to. I got to the first bridge and just stopped. Sat down. Got out my sketchbook.

There’s something about a bridge over water on a quiet afternoon that invites you to stay. So I did. I sketched the bridge — the way it sat there, simple and steady, with the light coming through the trees around it. It’s the kind of subject that rewards you for slowing down and really looking.

That’s what these park visits have become for me. Not a tour. Not a checklist. Just permission to slow down and pay attention.

The Practice of Slowing Down at Every Stage

What I keep learning, park by park, is that slowing down is not passive. It requires a decision. It requires showing up somewhere without your to-do list running in the background, without half your attention already somewhere else. Lake Whitney State Park did not slow me down — I brought the willingness to slow down, and the park gave me a beautiful place to do it.

That is what this entire series is really about. Not the parks as destinations, but the practice of tending to yourself well — choosing restoration, choosing presence, choosing the kind of care that compounds over time. At 69, I am less interested in doing more and more interested in doing the right things, slowly, with intention.

Slowing down is not something that happens to you. It is something you choose, again and again, until it becomes who you are.

Peppermint & Tea Tree Soap

I had my Peppermint & Tea Tree Soap with me that day — I’d used it before I left, and honestly, the peppermint stays with you. It’s refreshing in a way that felt exactly right for a sunny afternoon outdoors. I’ve been making that bar for a long time, originally just for myself, because peppermint and tea tree together has always been my idea of clean. Sharp and fresh and simple.

Out in the sunshine at Lake Whitney State Park, it made perfect sense.

The Best Thing I’ve Ever Done for Myself

I say this in the video, and I mean it: visiting these parks is one of the best things I have ever done for myself.

Not just this one. All of them. The whole project. There’s something that happens when you commit to showing up for yourself in nature, again and again, park after park. You start to remember what you actually need. You remember what quiet feels like. You remember that you’re part of something much larger and slower and more beautiful than whatever was sitting in your inbox that morning.

Lake Whitney State Park was stop 15 of 88. And on that sunny afternoon, walking the edge of that lake with wildflowers at my feet and a bridge to sketch and a bar of peppermint soap in my bag — I felt it again. That deep, settled feeling of doing exactly the right thing for yourself.

I hope you get to feel that too.

Practical Notes for Your Lake Whitney State Park Visit

[ IMAGE — Lake Whitney State Park Passport Stamp ]

Location: 433 FM 1244, Whitney, TX 76692

Day use hours: Typically 6 AM to 10 PM — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website before you go

Entrance fee: Standard Texas State Park day use fees apply; the Annual Pass is a worthwhile investment if you plan to visit several parks

Park highlight: The reservoir shoreline — take time to simply sit near the water and let the quiet settle

What to bring: Water, sunscreen, a journal or sketchbook, comfortable walking shoes, and something grounding for the close of your day

Best time to visit: Early morning or overcast days for the most still water and softest light; spring and fall are lovely for the shoreline

Worth noting: The lake views are peaceful even in off-season — sometimes the absence of crowds is the best condition of all

The Journey Continues

Next up is Fort Parker State Park for Episode 16. I’m already looking forward to seeing what it brings.

If you’ve been following along — thank you. This journey means more to me than I can easily say.

Frequently Asked Questions

Susan is documenting all 88 Texas State Parks on her YouTube channel. Subscribe to follow the journey, and visit [SusanSoapsAndMore.com] to explore her handcrafted natural skincare line.

More From the Texas State Parks Quest

Previous Park Episode: Daingerfield State Park

Texas State Park Journey

Susan’s Peppermint & Tea Tree Soap

Texas Parks & Wildlfe Website

I have wanted to visit Daingerfield State Park for a very long time. It has a reputation — people say it is one of the most beautiful parks in the entire Texas state park system. And standing there on that first morning, watching a pair of ducks take a bath at the edge of the water near the boat dock, I understood why.

I had only been there thirty minutes and I already knew it was worth every mile of the drive.

The Park They Say Is the Prettiest in Texas

There is something that happens when a place exceeds your expectations. You stop narrating it — even to yourself — and you just let it land.

The light at Daingerfield State Park comes through the trees in a way that makes you understand why photographers and painters keep returning here. It is not dramatic. It is not a postcard sunset or a wide-open horizon. It is quiet, filtered, green-gold, the kind of light that makes the ordinary look like it was arranged on purpose.

My husband has pointed out, more than once, that I call every park my favorite. He is probably right. But there is a reason Daingerfield keeps coming up in conversations among people who have done what I am doing — visiting all 88 parks. It earns that reputation.

I am seeing so many pieces of Texas through visiting these parks that I never even knew were here.

Walking the Mountain View Trail

I brought my Insta360 out for a walk along the Mountain View Trail, there in Daingerfield State Park, which winds through some of the most beautiful wooded terrain in the park. I am still learning that camera system — still figuring out what it does best and where I need to pay more attention. But even imperfect footage of a place like this manages to capture something true.

There is a cactus tucked back off the trail, which surprised me. And those small purple wildflowers — I kept returning to them. They appear along the path like small punctuation marks in a sentence you did not expect to be so beautiful.

Sometimes the tiny things in nature are the best. I mean that literally. The smallest flower, the most ordinary-looking shrub — they reward you when you slow down long enough to actually look at them.

The Sketch: A Tiny Flower, Chosen on Purpose

When it came time to sketch, I did not choose the lake. I did not choose the sweeping view from the trail. I chose those little purple wildflowers.

This is something I have come to understand about my sketchbook practice: I sketch what stops me. Not what is most impressive, but what my eye keeps returning to. And it kept returning to those flowers — so small, so delicate, tucked in among all the leaves like they were keeping a secret.

Drawing something that small asks for a particular kind of presence. You cannot be thinking about what comes next. You have to be entirely in the details — the curve of the petal, the way it opens, the shadow underneath. By the time I finished, I had been fully present for longer than I usually manage on my own.

That is what the sketchbook is for. Not beauty. Not art. Presence.

A flower amongst all the leaves — a little special something. That was my reset for today. And honestly, it was enough.

Egyptian Rose Soap: Choosing What Resonates

I have a practice when I pack for a park visit: I think about the feeling of the place, and I bring a soap that feels like it belongs there.

Daingerfield State Park was supposed to be the most beautiful park in the system. So I packed our Egyptian Rose Soap — probably the prettiest soap we make, and certainly the most floral. Flowers are beautiful, and Daingerfield is beautiful. It was a simple pairing that made complete sense to me.

I made Egyptian Rose for myself first. I wanted something that felt like a small luxury — not in an indulgent way, but in the way that choosing something beautiful and intentional for yourself is a form of self-respect. The scent is full and rosy without being heavy. It is the kind of thing that turns a simple end-of-day cleanse into something that feels like a closing ritual.

At this stage of my life, I am more deliberate than I used to be about what I allow into my routines. Fewer things. Better things. Things that feel like care rather than obligation.

What the Small Things Are Teaching Me

I have been thinking about this since I left Daingerfield State Park. There is a particular lesson that keeps showing up on this journey — not in the dramatic panoramas or the famous views, but in the small details I almost walked past.

The ducks at the water’s edge. The cactus off the trail. The tiny purple flower I almost did not see.

I think the 88-park journey is teaching me to look more carefully. Not just at parks, but at everything. The things worth noticing are not always the things that announce themselves. Sometimes they are quiet and easy to miss, and they reward you only if you have slowed down enough to be paying attention.

That is what I want this series to be about, ultimately. Not the parks themselves — though they are extraordinary. But the practice of showing up slowly, looking carefully, and finding that it is enough.

Sometimes the tiny things in nature are the best.

The Quest: 88 Parks, One Practice

The Texas State Parks Passport gets a unique stamp at each of the 88 parks in the system. I am visiting every single one, and documenting what each stop teaches me — about nature, about tending to yourself well, and about what it means to age with intention rather than resistance.

Daingerfield State Park is stop 14 of 88. I have wanted to come here for a long time. It did not disappoint.

If you are in a similar season — looking for a reason to slow down, to look more carefully at the small things, and to tend to yourself well along the way — you are welcome to walk this with me.

Practical Notes for Your Daingerfield Visit

• Location: 455 Pete Cawthon Dr, Daingerfield, TX 75638
• Day use hours: Typically 8 AM to 10 PM — confirm current hours at the Texas State Parks website
• Entrance fee: Standard Texas State Park day use fees apply; the Annual Pass is worth it if you plan to visit multiple parks
• Park highlight: The lake and the wooded trails — the Cedar Ridge Trail is particularly beautiful
• What to bring: Water, comfortable walking shoes, a sketchbook if that is your thing, and something that grounds you for afterward
• Best time to visit: Fall for foliage color; spring for wildflowers along the trails
• Worth noting: Look for the small wildflowers along the trail — they are easy to miss and worth stopping for

FAQs

Daingerfield State Park is stop 14 of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. New episodes post every Friday. If this resonated with you, share it with someone else who is ready to start looking at the small things.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Egyptian Rose Soap