I went down to the river and , on the hill above, noted an eerie pavillion with white fabric, billowing in what appeared to be an unkempt manner, just across the river.
Venturing barefoot across the sandbag covered pipleline that is half-submerged, I recalled that the area across the river had once been a luxery camping spot, Buck's on the Brazos. Upon climbing the weed-choked bank, I entered an overgrown clearing with three decaying campsites and an abandonded picnic area, complete with fallen strands of christmas lights. All I could hear was my feet crunching through the dead grass and leaves and the snap of the aged fabric crackling in the wind.
Inside the ruined tents are bed frames with decaying mattresses and cast off bottles, all being reclaimed by the land around. It was exactly the kind of adventure I needed, despite the lack of zombies.
I so may have to go liberate this sign, half hidden under a tent...
You can see the rest at my flickr page...
