As I walk along [the path], a sharp smell of salt mixed with the rich aroma of peaty soil fills my nostrils. I am always amazed by the way the path changes with the seasons. Sometimes I walk in the brilliant green of spring, sometimes in the tawny gold of autumn, sometimes in the grayish-tan of winter. No matter the season, the grass flanking the trail is often flattened into swirls, like thick Van Gogh brush strokes that curve and recurve in circular patterns. No people come here. The peacefulness heals me like a soothing drug.
...the trail suddenlly opens up to a view that calms...a line of tall waving reeds bordering and nearly hiding the salt march creek. To get to the creek, I part the reeds. Marie Martinez.
Iron bars surround the path; here and there soldiers smoke cigarettes.
Tension between representations of nature and culture creates a spatial rift to the south; the reeds lead to the creek.
You see a grass flanking the trail here.
Path (#15402) leads to The Salt Marsh (#15397) via {path, short_path}.
Part the reeds (#15219) leads to the creek (#15405) via {part the reeds, reeds}.
Commentary (#15409) leads to The Editors' Commentary (#15239) via {commentary, com, c}.
South (#15462) leads to Within the Rift (#15461) via {south, s}.