Six a.m. The forecast for this morning is 75 degrees with 97% humidity—warm and muggy. So muggy, that during our planned picnic breakfast at Blanco State Park in the Texas Hill Country, perspiration will roll off our head and down our necks even though it will only be 90 minutes after the rooster announces sunrise to anyone listening.

I find myself wondering, Why are we doing this? Perhaps I am part masochist adventurer, trying to actualize carpe diem no matter what the twenty-four hours promise? However, at 6:15, despite the promise of heat and sweat, I am pouring myself a cup of coffee, ready to embrace the challenge of the day. 

A Bump in the Proverbial Road

Opening the door to the refrigerator, I remove the prepped ingredients for today’s leek and potato frittata. Grabbing a non-stick frying pan, I begin the process of finishing the dish, slicing green onions, chopping parsley, and seasoning the eggs before adding the potatoes and pouring everything into the frying pan. 

As I am busy assembling and slicing and dicing, Michael walks in and announces, “Don’t hurry. Rain is headed our way, and it is moving fast.”

I check the radar app on my phone and see a monster storm that reaches from here to the Red River Valley in Oklahoma and is as wide as the drive between Dallas and Abilene. That is some rainstorm, and it was supposed to rain this evening, not in thirty minutes—It is definitely traveling very fast.

“Well,” I say, halfway smiling, “we know what to do when we need rain.  Plan a picnic in Blanco State Park.”

Today’s picnic is the second picnic that we will need to cancel or postpone due to rain at the state park in Blanco. But I am an undeterred optimist, trusting this storm will not stall, but will move quickly past. So, I continue my preparations.  The frittata can be served at room temperature, the tomato, bacon, and basil salad should be, and brunch can be eaten any time before 1 p.m. I whistle while I work—well, I would whistle if I could.

Blanco State Park

Eleven a.m. finds us heading west down FM 2325. The rain has stopped, the air is cool, the humidity has disappeared over the horizon—or somewhere—the top is down on the convertible and the earth smiles with her newly washed face. Barely 30 minutes later, masks in place, we are checking-in at Blanco State Park Ranger Station. 

This park is tiny, one of the smallest in the state. Its 104 acres is barely a mile long, and seemingly half as narrow as it hugs the banks of the Blanco River. The grass, trees, and fields are as green as those in England, and the wildflowers of Texas still bloom. I breathe deeply, inhaling the fresh, clean air and the moment.

Built by the CCC in 1933, we travel along Park Road 23 as it meanders through the park, crossing underneath Hwy 281 that towers above us as we head to the picnic area located on the northern banks of the Blanco. Looking up at the bridge, it is hard to believe that barely five years ago, torrential rains caused floodwaters to rise so high, they almost touched the bottom of this overpass.

Mother Nature unearthed many of her tall trees that year, tossing them onto the upper reaches of those left standing. Fortunately, the stone dams, the stone picnic tables and benches, the large group picnic building, and many other structures built by the CCC almost 90 years ago escaped the floodwater’s wrath.

The Eastern Half of the Park

Driving along, Michael points out that we just passed a sign that warns of alligators.  Really? I ask him to back up so I can take a look.  The sign is not large, and there are more critters than alligators pictured. Why would we need to be afraid of armadillos?

Leaving the car, I walk closer to the sign. Standing here reading it, I want to give Texas or the park ranger that created this sign, a hug. It is a notice that playfully reminds us how to social distance during COVID-19 in a Texas State Park—six-feet equals three armadillos, or thirteen Texas horned lizards, or one American alligator. I smile and snap a picture.

The eastern portion of the park has many shelters for their picnic tables, and numerous families are taking advantage of them. Aromas of barbequed hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill at each picnic site tickle our nose, teasing our hungry tummies. A small child hugs his dad’s leg. An adventurous youth throws caution to the winds and climbs the stepped-rock dam at this end of the park. Oh, to be that young again and believe you are capable of anything.

The Western Half of the Park

At the end of the short drive, we decide to turn around and check out the western portion of the park where another picnic area resides. This one is located on the southern banks of the river. Once again, we pass under Hwy 281, crossing the river on a low water bridge near another dam built by the CCC. Attached to the edge of the dam, and the northern bank of the river is an enclosed rectangle for young, less capable swimmers.

This end of the park feels different. A tiny bit older. I notice a camping area up the hill, on our left as we drive west. The picnic tables are placed far enough apart to make social distancing no problem at all. Some are close to the road, others at the bottom of a sloping hill are near the banks of the river.

A Brunch Picnic

The picnic table we choose says summer to me, and all the songs of that time of year run through my head as we make our way down the hill to our shady spot at the water’s edge. The melodies continue as I set out our small feast.  Lifting our glasses, we toast our good fortune and each other.

The rain came for a reason—cooling the earth and creating a picture-perfect day in late June. Munching away on our salty, savory, and sweet combination, we notice that a river trail is beside us. Several families with happy kids in tow, some with well-outfitted doggies, take advantage of the easy hike.  Elsewhere along the river, people fish, others relax. Some individuals are on the water, negotiating rented kayaks upstream. A father and son, previously paddling upriver, now float past us on the trip downstream.

When it is finally time to make our way home to Wimberley, Michael drives south, crossing the river. He follows the Blanco Kendelia Road until he reaches Little Blanco Road, and turns east.  Today is a day of unexpected gifts, for Michael is driving down another of my favorite winding, twisting curving country roads, barely big enough for another car to pass.

This day, this time is perfection. It is the reason to wake at six and make an effort to seize each day. Moving to the Texas Hills may be the smartest thing we ever did.

Blanco State Park Information

101 Park Rd 23, Blanco, TX 78606, (830) 833-4333

Reservations are a must and may be made online or by calling the park number above.

Blanco State Park is small and intimate, edged by period fenced river homes and crossed by highway bridges. And none of that matters—once inside the park it all becomes invisible and it is only about the river and the joy it provides. On the water, you can swim, fish, paddle or boat.

You may swim anywhere along the river, and small children will enjoy the shallow wading pool next to Falls Dam. Tubes are available to rent at the park store from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. and must be returned by 4 p.m.

You do not need a license to fish from shore within the park, and you can borrow fishing rods and reels at headquarters to use inside the park if they are available.

If you do not own a canoe, you may rent a single or double kayak at the park store to use in the park during the season. A $20 credit card deposit is required. Rental hours are 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., with kayak return due by 4 p.m.

For Brunch recipes click on this LINK.