Been busy trampsing about the hills of South Central Tennessee looking for a spot of land!...and then, there is all this horrendous travel I've been doing with work... but I've been lurking here and there and trying to keep up with all your lives. Thought I'd post an excerpt from my trip (misspellings & all ;-) to let you know I'm still here (welcome Hillbilliebo)...
Blessings, all...
--karla
3 May 2003
... While in Tennesee, we took some time off to visit Burges Falls (sp?) So lush and green. Soft, winding trails meandering through the dappled light of a broad-leafed wood. The trail is narrow, and some areas drop off into a decidedly steep ravine. The filtered light gives everything a calm green cast, and the ever present hushed roar of the river draws the stress out of the shoulders.
Rain fell the night before. The top soil is fair to middling saturated. Here and there small rivuletts spring forth around large moss covered rockes, or seep out of ancient cracks from boulders peeking out of the mountain side.
We continue to decend down the path. Here and there, small wooden foot bridges cross patches of traditionally soggy soil.
It's Sunday. ...I feel much closer to God here, in the shaddows of ancient cliffs and tall trees. If you are still, you can hear [God speaking in] the buzz of insects or the small scratching sounds of scampering lizzards.
As you decend off of the top of the mountain, you meet the river. The far bank leans up against a sheer cliff of layered sedimentary rock. Stripes of greys and tans of varying intensity draw your eye. If you look closely, these layers will tell you of the river's history from before the days of Christ.
The river roars loudly here, for if you look off to the left, you will see where it cascades off of the ends of the earth. [Here], a hundred feet from the edge, however, on this side of the shore, the river is fast, but shallow. David Jr. skips rocks while I, barefoot, tripod and camera in hand, carefully traverse flat, algae slimed bedrock until I am in calf deep water...
Time freezes as I click the shutter and record the passion of the river as she rushes single mindedly towards the end of the platue. The photos I have taken are lovely, but they do not convey the power of it - the coldness of the water as it slices between my toes; the rumble of the water hitting far below, feeling like a reverberation against your heart; the sheer cliffs rising above you, drawing your eye up towards the sky. [Who would have thought that you could find so much peace and solitude inside the thunder of a river?]
I'm back, sort of...
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