But that water is calling me.
I wander the edges, searching, stepping from one polished rock to another, placing my boots carefully…
No place for a twisted ankle…
Away from the main torrent of falling water, a clear pool sits to one side, deep and wide, edged by rocks polished smooth, and still, save for the small eddying swirls which sparkle and spin in the sunshine. And better, it vanishes under a rock overhang, curtained off by cascading water, well away from any possible passer-by. Perfect shelter.
Stepping with care, I edge along a craggy edge. The water has long ago polished away any crevices for fingers, and moss, thick and green coats much of it. But snatched handfuls of ferns balance me as I skip over one slick stepping-stone to another until, abruptly, I find myself out of th
