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

Some Days Don’t Go the Way You Planned — and That’s the Whole Point

I want to tell you about a park where nothing went quite the way I expected. And how it became one of my favorite visits so far.

I came to Martin Creek Lake State Park the day after my birthday. I was hoping, as I usually am when I head to a park, for a few quiet moments — a place to sit, breathe, and make my sketch. Martin Creek is a beautiful park. The trees are full and generous with their shade. The lake is calm and green.

What it was not, at least on the day we arrived, was quiet.

There was a mower. Steadily doing its job. Very thoroughly.

Sometimes you have to move around a little. Adjust. Stay longer. Look again.

The Lily Pads Were Already Waiting

Close to the picnic area where Jerry and I sat eating our sack lunch, I noticed a large patch of lily pads along the lakeshore. I have now visited thirteen Texas State Parks, and these were the first lily pads I had seen on this entire journey. They caught my attention immediately.

I wanted to sketch them. But the mower was getting closer.

Martin Creek Lake State Park has something I had not encountered at any previous park: a small walking bridge that leads over to a little island with a day-use area, camping, and even a hiking trail. So I crossed over to the island, walked beneath the shade trees, and had almost settled on a clump of leaves to sketch when I heard it again.

The mower. Right on the other side of the water.

So I went back to my lily pads. And there they were — still waiting. Still lovely.

I sat down and did my sketch.

If it hadn’t been for the mower, I probably wouldn’t have ventured over to the little island — which turned out to be one of the most unique features of that park.

The Sketch: First Lily Pads of the Journey

I am certainly no Monet. But there is something about a subject you did not plan for that brings out a particular kind of attention.

I had not come to Martin Creek Lake State Park intending to sketch lily pads. I had not known they would be there. And yet the moment I saw them, something in me said: that is the one. The sketch from this park.

The pads themselves were generous — large, overlapping, unhurried. They did not mind the noise nearby. They were just doing what lily pads do: floating, opening toward the light, entirely unbothered.

I think I needed that particular lesson on that particular day.

A Birthday Soap and a Long-Overdue Treat

I brought my Orange Blossom & Sandalwood Soap to Martin Creek. Neroli — the essential oil at the heart of this soap — is one of my very favorite scents. I made this formulation years ago and eventually stopped producing it, because neroli is not an inexpensive oil to work with.

This year, I brought neroli back in for a new project. And somewhere along the way I decided that my birthday was a good enough reason to make this soap for myself again. A small, personal treat. The kind of thing I believe every woman in this season of life deserves to do without apology.

After a few hours in the East Texas heat — yes, it was warm — there is something restorative about a proper cleanse with something you trust. Something simple, made from ingredients you recognize, that works with your skin rather than against it. That is all I have ever wanted from a bar of soap. And it is what this one has always been.

What the Mower Taught Me

Here is what I have been sitting with since that visit.

Peace does not always arrive exactly the way we expect. Sometimes something interrupts our plans. Sometimes we have to move around a little — adjust, stay longer, look again. And in doing that, we end up seeing more than we would have otherwise.

If it had been a perfectly quiet park that day, I might have sketched the first thing I saw and moved on. I probably would not have crossed that little bridge. I would not have walked the island. I would not have come back to those lily pads with quite the same sense of appreciation.

The mower was not the problem. The mower was the teacher.

This is one of the quiet lessons I keep finding on this journey: tending to yourself well does not always look like perfect conditions. Sometimes it looks like adjusting gracefully when the conditions are not what you hoped for — and finding something beautiful anyway.

Peace doesn’t always arrive exactly the way we expect. Sometimes something interrupts our plans. And in adjusting, we end up seeing more than we would have otherwise.

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.

Martin Creek Lake is stop 13 of 88. Which felt a little appropriate, since May 13th is my birthday.

Lake Bob Sandlin was stop twelve. Daingerfield State Park is next.

This is not a race. It is not a travel vlog. It is a practice of showing up for yourself — one park at a time. If you are in a similar season, looking for a way to reconnect with yourself and approach your life with more care and less urgency, you are welcome to walk this with me.

Practical Notes for Your Martin Creek Visit

• Location: 9515 FM 1716, Tatum, TX 75691
• Day use hours: Typically 6 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 walking bridge to the small island — cross it even if you do not plan to stay long
• What to bring: Water, sunscreen, a sketchbook if that is your thing, comfortable shoes, and something simple for after a warm afternoon outdoors
• Worth noting: The lily pads along the lakeshore near the picnic area — first ones I have seen in the entire 88-park journey
• Noise level: This is an active, well-maintained park — expect the sounds of a well-loved place

FAQs

Martin Creek Lake State Park is stop ___ 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 learning to find peace in unexpected places.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Orange Blossom & Sandalwood Soap

Have you ever found yourself standing between two very different versions of your life — not sure which one you belong to, but somehow knowing that both of them are yours? That’s exactly where I was when I stepped into Lake Bob Sandlin State Park. On one side, the lush green canopy of East Texas pines reaching up toward the sky. On the other, an open savannah stretching wide and unhurried. And right in the middle of it all, a beautiful, quiet lake.

It felt like nature had built the perfect metaphor just for me.

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A Park That Holds Two Worlds at Once

Lake Bob Sandlin State Park sits at the meeting place of two ecosystems — the dense East Texas Piney Woods and an open grassland savannah — with a gorgeous lake threading them together. It’s the kind of place that takes you by surprise. You walk in expecting one thing and find yourself somewhere richer, more layered than you imagined.

For me, it mirrored something I’ve been working through in my own life. I have one foot in my e-commerce world — making soap, formulating skincare, running a small business that I love. And the other foot is slowly stepping into something quieter, more intentional. A slower pace. A more reflective life. These two versions of me don’t always feel like they fit together neatly. But standing at that lake, watching the pines meet the open savannah, I thought — maybe they don’t have to. Maybe it all just works.

The Brim Pond and a Book I Read Long Ago

One of the spots that stopped me in my tracks was what I think of as the brim pond. Trees leaning in. A big weathered log stretching across the water. The wind moving through the branches. The sun finally breaking through.

It pulled something up from deep in my memory — a book called Girl of the Limberlost. I read it years ago, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking inside the world of that story. There’s something about places like this — tucked away, full of green and quiet — that reaches back through time and finds the version of you who used to dream in those pages.

I sat down there and sketched. The log. The edge of the pond. The way the light was falling.

It was one of those moments I would have rushed through a few years ago. I’m glad I didn’t rush through it now.

The Sketch

The finished sketch captured those logs at the edge of the pond — the way they rested across the water as if they’d always belonged there. I always bring my sketchbook to the parks because drawing forces me to really see a place. You can’t sketch something you haven’t looked at carefully. And careful looking, it turns out, is a form of rest.

The Carrot Seed Complexion Bar

I brought my Carrot Seed Complexion Bar on this visit — not because it was planned, but because it lives in my bag the way good habits do. It’s one of those products that spans what I think of as the full story of skin: women in their twenties and thirties reach for it, and so do women like me in their sixties and beyond. It bridges the gap. It doesn’t ask you to be one age or another.

Which, honestly, felt exactly right for this park.

What Lake Bob Sandlin Reminded Me

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to choose one ecosystem over the other. The pines and the savannah and the lake — they all coexist. They’ve been doing it for a long time. And so can we, navigating change, balancing different phases, holding the different parts of ourselves with a little more grace.

You just have to keep moving forward. Doing the best you can. It all works — you and it, together.

I believe in you. I believe in me.

FAQs About Lake Bob Sandlin State Park

Lake Bob Sandlin State Park is Park #12 in my journey to visit all 88 Texas State Parks. Follow along at Susan Soaps and More on YouTube and here on the blog.

When Quiet Is the Destination

I have been thinking a lot about quiet lately. Not silence exactly — but space. Space around your thoughts. Space around your body. The kind of space that you cannot manufacture indoors, no matter how many candles you light or how deeply you breathe.

I was ready for some of that. So on a Wednesday afternoon, I drove to Tyler State Park.

What met me there were tall trees — great big ones, the kind that make you feel appropriately small in the best possible way. East Texas has that effect. You step under the canopy and something in you just settles.

Sometimes the reset you have been waiting for is already a short drive away.

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Rose Quintessential Body Oil and a Happy Coincidence

I brought my Rose Quintessential Body Oil to Tyler State Park, not because I had planned it particularly, but because rose is what I reach for when I need to come back to myself. It quiets something in me. It is one of those scents that does not demand anything — it just makes a little room.

It was only after I arrived that I remembered: Tyler is the Rose Capital of America. The city has been growing roses and sending them into the world for over a century.

Sometimes things just fit together. I did not plan the connection. It found me.

I brought rose because it helps me find quiet. And then I remembered — Tyler is the rose capital. Sometimes it all just fits together.

The Sketch: Sitting Still Long Enough to See

I found my spot and set up my chair. That is one of the things I have come to appreciate about this journey — the discipline of stopping. Not walking past a beautiful thing. Not photographing it from a distance. Sitting down and actually looking at it long enough to draw it.

Sketching asks that of you. It does not let you rush. The moment you try to hurry a sketch, you can see it in the lines. So you slow down, and the park teaches you patience the way it has always been teaching anyone willing to sit down inside it.

By the time I was finished, I was not thinking about anything else. That is the gift of it.

What a Wednesday Afternoon Taught Me About Resets

I used to think that a real reset required something significant. A trip. A destination. Time away that felt earned and far enough removed from regular life to actually count.

I do not believe that anymore.

A reset can be a Wednesday afternoon. It can be a park that is close enough to reach after lunch and still be home before dark. It can be the quiet under tall trees and a sketchbook and nothing more complicated than that.

That is what I am finding in the parks. Not transformation — tending. Small, consistent acts of showing up for yourself in a place that asks nothing of you except your presence.

The reset I needed was not far away. It was just outside — waiting on a Wednesday afternoon.

What Nature Does for Your Skin — and Your Energy

There is something measurable that happens when you step into a quiet outdoor space. Even the simple act of being under trees — what researchers sometimes call forest bathing — has been shown to lower cortisol, slow the heart rate, and reduce systemic inflammation.

That matters for your skin. Chronic stress is one of the more underappreciated contributors to dull skin, accelerated aging, and sensitivity. When we genuinely slow down, we give our bodies a chance to repair rather than react.

Inside-out health is not a wellness trend. It is the quiet foundation of aging well. And Texas State Parks, it turns out, are very good medicine.

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.

Tyler State Park is stop 11 of 88. This is not a race. It is not a travel vlog. It is a practice of showing up for yourself, one park at a time.

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

Practical Notes for Your Tyler State Park Visit

Location: 789 Park Road 16, Tyler, TX 75706

Day use hours: Typically 7 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 tall pine and hardwood canopy — take time to sit under it rather than just walk through it

What to bring: Water, a journal or sketchbook, comfortable shoes, something grounding for after — your skin will thank you

Best time to visit: Weekday afternoons are quieter; spring and fall for the most comfortable temperatures under the canopy

Worth noting: Tyler is the Rose Capital of America — the city itself is worth exploring before or after your park visit

FAQs

Tyler State Park is stop 11 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 find their own quiet.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More — Rose Quintessential Body Oil

I Didn’t Even Know This Place Existed

There is a version of rest that is sitting on a couch. And then there is this.

I am at Fort Boggy State Park — a small, quiet park in Leon County named for Boggy Creek, the slow-moving body of water that winds through it. I did not know this place existed until I began my quest to visit all 88 Texas State Parks. And that is something I keep thinking about: how many good, quiet things are out there that I simply never made room for.

The day I visited, there were a few kids playing nearby. A handful of other visitors passing through. The kind of scene that settles you without making a sound. It was exactly what I needed.

This is the kind of rest that actually stays with you.

A Park Worth Finding

Fort Boggy is small by Texas standards — but there is something about a small park that asks less of you. You do not have to decide where to go. You do not have to cover ground. You can simply arrive and be somewhere.

The lake trail is short and easy, and I found myself slowing down even further than I expected to. The water moves slowly here. The trees stand close. The light comes through in pieces. It has the feeling of a place that does not need to announce itself.

The best parks do not ask you to be impressed. They just ask you to be present.

Why I Sketch — And It Has Nothing to Do With Being Good

I brought my sketchbook to Fort Boggy State Park, as I bring it to every park on this journey. And I want to say something about that, because I think people assume sketching is about artistic ability.

It is not. Not for me.

I sketch because it takes me out of my head for a few minutes. That is the entire reason. When I am looking closely enough at something to draw it — really looking, studying the way the light falls or the way a branch curves — I am not thinking about anything else. Not the to-do list. Not the week ahead. Not the noise.

The sketchbook is one of the most practical tools I own for tending to myself well. It does not require talent. It requires attention. And attention, it turns out, is the thing that rest is actually made of.

The sketches from all 88 parks will eventually illustrate a book I am writing about this journey. So every time I open that sketchbook at a new park, I am building something too.

I don’t sketch because I’m good at it. I sketch because it takes me out of my head for a few minutes — and I love doing it.

What Quiet Does for You — Inside and Out

There is something that happens in your body when you step into a place like Fort Boggy. Even if you cannot name it, you feel it within the first few minutes.

That shift is not just poetic. Chronic stress keeps cortisol elevated, and cortisol is one of the quieter contributors to dull skin, inflammation, and accelerated aging. When we genuinely stop — not just slow our scrolling, but actually stop — we give our bodies a chance to lower that cortisol and begin the kind of repair that cannot happen when we are always in motion.

Inside-out health is the quiet foundation of aging well. And small, unhurried parks like Fort Boggy turn out to be very good medicine.

What I Brought — and Why

I brought one of my Chocolate Mint Soap to Fort Boggy. The fresh, clean scent of mint just seemed right here. It was one of the first scents I made and still a favorite. A smooth silky soap with the scent of mint and a hint of chocolate from the loads of cocoa butter in the bar. — I wanted something simple that worked with the kind of day I was having, not against it.

After a few hours outdoors in Texas air, the wind and the dry and the season all registering on your skin, a proper cleanse with something gentle and grounded is not a luxury. It is the same kind of maintenance I give everything else I want to keep in good condition.

My approach to skincare has shifted a great deal as I have gotten older. I do not believe aging is something I need to fight anymore. I think it is something I tend to and support — with fewer, better things. Formulations rooted in nature. Products that feel like care, not correction. That is what every bar I make is built around. And it is what this whole journey is built around too.

The Kind of Rest That Stays

I have been thinking about what Fort Boggy State Park gave me on that visit. It was not a dramatic experience. There was no big view or signature landscape. It was a slow creek, a short trail, a few quiet hours with a sketchbook.

And yet I left feeling genuinely rested. Not tired-person-on-a-couch rested. Actually rested. The kind that comes from being somewhere instead of just passing through it.

That is what I keep learning on this quest. The parks that ask the least of you sometimes give you the most.

There’s a version of rest that’s sitting on a couch. And then there’s this.

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.

Fort Boggy State Park is stop 10 of 88. It is the kind of stop that reminds me why I started.

If you are in a similar season — looking for a way to slow down and approach your days with more care and less urgency — you are welcome to walk this with me.

Practical Notes for Your Fort Boggy State Park Visit

•  Location: 4994 TX-OSR, Centerville, TX 75833 (Leon County)

•  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 are visiting multiple parks

•  Park highlight: Boggy Creek and the lake trail — slow-moving water, close trees, very quiet atmosphere

•  What to bring: Water, sunscreen, a journal or sketchbook, comfortable walking shoes

•  Best time to visit: Weekday mornings or overcast days; spring and fall offer the most comfortable conditions

•  Worth noting: This is a smaller, lesser-known park — which is part of what makes it special

FAQs

Fort Boggy State Park is stop ___ of 88 on my Texas State Parks Quest. New episodes post every Thursday. If this resonated with you, share it with someone who is ready to rest in a way that actually stays with them.

References

Texas State Parks Website

Susan Soaps & More

Chocolate Mint Soap