Fogarty Creek is one of those places where nature seems to do its own gardening. Shrubs crowd against one another, branches reach across openings, and patches of light appear unexpectedly among the darker shapes of the woods.
I was drawn as much to the color of the place as to the place itself. Cool blues and violets move through the shadows and water, while flashes of gold and orange suggest the warmer light beyond. The vegetation is allowed to remain loose and tangled, the way it feels when walking through these coastal woods.
This isn’t meant to describe every tree or bush. It is about the experience of coming upon a small opening in the growth—a garden with no gardener, arranged by light, water, and chance.