I started the Spencer Trail hike before 7 am, when the sun cast half the land with gold and chased me on the slope.

The scorching sun streaked that Westward gold and split the rocks into a mile of shadows.

Dad explains silica to me as we sit together on a slanted rock. He smiles a lot here, with science and the shore.

I was on the hunt for a yellow-crowned night heron, a stalky bird in the beloved heron family, an active hunter at all hours of the day.

Heart racing, I dropped to my knees in the pool and started hyperventilating. I'd done this twice before, once in St. Croix and once in...

I scanned the wetlands for more turtles and birds and then noticed a small, sleepy face lifted just above the concavity. A raccoon!

We stride into the cloud-covered forest wearing outfits reserved for the sun. I stuff my fingers in my vest and brace for the cold.

Hour-old raindrops fall from the rocky overhang and slam my very large leaf. All around me, leaves float on the stream and collect in dams.

I strip to my bandeau and return to the cast iron Lodge pan in the sink, an expensive and intimidating piece I probably shouldn't touch.