

The river and its cascading falls call out for a closer experience of their wildness, but one cannot approach too closely in springtime, and the area is far too treacherous underfoot to be negotiated. There is a great haphazard tumble of wet granite boulders below and monumental jagged shards of ice which have been heaved forth by the river in its frantic efforts to shake itself loose from winter — there have been many occasions in springtimes past when I have found myself right in the river as I tried to wander closer to all that splendid wetness.
Yesterday, I was a little wiser for those earlier wet adventures, although I was certainly not much drier — I found a wide flat rock near a quiet melt pool and just sat there for a long time, merging myself (whoever that thoughtless eccentric creature happens to be) into the day and my own restlessly tumbling thoughts with the spray and the roar. There was no sense of time there, no noise and turbulence, no me at all.
In autumn, the view from the top is just out of this world.
3 comments:
I love the sound of your nature adventures. We are very similar in spirit and what brings us peace and healing. Stunning photos, as always.
Stopping by and, as usual, so very glad I did. I find such peace in your photos and in your writings.
I am grateful.
With love,
Prairie Star
Ohhh, these photos and these words are so very moving. I love the pciture of the leaf in the water. And I recognize that timeless moment you found on the granite boulders.
Thanks for sharing them both, and reminding me to watch the flux of nature from my own timeless Now.
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