When my precious granddaughter was a wee, little thing, she thought that those cute, spotted dogs who rode on the back of firetrucks, or hung out with Cruella Deville, were called “dogmations”. When Gypsy emerged from her rampage through a particularly muddy creek, it struck me that she looked much more like a dogmation than the yellow lab that she is.
It all started out so innocently, with a 10+ mile hike in Poinsett State Park. It was a sunny, albeit chilly day, and the trails were wide and well marked. In my mind, we were wandering through Poinsettia State Park, I mean, it’s Christmas time, right? All was beautiful and picture perfect, then SPLASH. Gypsy apparently does not seem to care how cold the water is. I thought she had more sense. She doesn’t. In fact, it invigorated her. It was a catalyst for a severe case of the hyper-zoomies. She ran like a dog possessed, up and down the stream, splashing mud everywhere. There would certainly be a bath in her future.
Undeterred, we continued our holiday hike, looking for natural reds and greens along the way. With no real Christmas tree this year, nature would have to provide reasonable facsimiles.
Poinsett State Park has been around for a while and it has seen better days. The road in and out is, shall we say, challenging for large motorhomes. The buildings, which were erected by the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) in the 1930’s have not had much updating. The acreage is beautiful, but the park could use some infrastructure work.
There was an old, screened pavilion in the campground area. There was a hole in the roof, covered by a tarp, and moss was growing on the chimney. It appeared abandoned, and perhaps a bit spooky. Naturally, I wanted to explore. Curiosity often leads to strange discovery.
Inside the dilapidated structure , I encountered THE PAVILION OF MISFIT TOYS. Headless dolls and crumpled stuffed animals hung from the rafters. Cabbage Patch creatures were covered in cobwebs. A Christmas reindeer was cavorting in the fireplace with a naked Barbie. I was flabbergasted, and fearfully waited for Chucky to creep out of a dark corner. Rudolf’s Island of misfit toys, with it’s Charlie-in-a-box and ostrich-riding cowboy, could not compare to this oddity.
Creepy. I’m ready to move on to our Christmas in Coastal Georgia.