Serenity Valley

Almost everyone has a favorite place to visit, to be alone, but none could be more beautiful than mine. The sights and sounds of my getaway spot are guaranteed to soothe the most agitated spirit by stimulating, and relaxing, every sense of one's being. My Garden of Eden is centered on a magnificent creek tucked away in a small wooded vale.

A massive outcrop of moss and lichen-covered blue-gray rock rises steeply from the western edge of the stream like a mountain towering above a miniature valley. Lime-green, feathery fronds of ferns, planted on the fractured cliff-face, gently undulate in the cool breeze driven by water cascading over a terraced stream channel below. Maple and beech trees growing on the mountainside hang on for dear life, their roots wrapped around boulders and wedged into crevices. The arms of these smooth-barked sentinels of the stream reach out over the watercourse; a multitude of radiant sunbeams pierce the canopy.

The opposite bank of the stream is lined with clusters of multi-stemmed river birch wrapped in exfoliating paper-thin, golden-brown bark. Here-and-there, pencil-pointed tree trunks protrude from the ground, a testimony to the presence of the furry, flat-tailed residents of the valley. This side of the creek gently rises only a few feet above the water's surface, a plateau dotted with low, broad mounds of sand deposited between clumps of ferns and field grass. A sinuous ridge of small sticks and leaves, marking the high-water level of the last flood, borders the plateau where the land begins its ascent on the eastern side of the valley.

Crystal clear mountain water winds its way through the valley, ever polishing the rock over which it flows. Where the stream enters the valley, a ledge of rock holds back the water until it spills forward, plunging several feet down a stairway of stone. Glistening sunlight dances on the rapids; the stream gurgles its pleasure. Attached to rocky anchors, fans of slimy algae sway to and fro in the current beneath the water's surface. A fine spray rises at the base of the falls, cooling and refreshing the air.

Oh no! A wind-driven leaf, captured by the current, shoots the rapids and is caught in a whirlpool for a moment, then is released to continue its journey down the mighty river. Silver minnows make a quick inspection of the raft, then dart beneath the rocks for safety. Crayfish patrol the sandy bottom of the creek, while beetles and water spiders skim across the surface. A banded water snake, basking on a sunlit rock at the water's edge, slithers into the water and disappears among the many boulders and stepping stones laying in the shallow stretch below the falls. Somewhere in the tree tops above, an owl breaks the serenity of the river valley with his ominous question, reminding me of who is, truly, the intruder.

Sitting on a flat-topped rock in the middle of the creek, hours often go by in what seems to be no time at all. And I leave this place refreshed, knowing that it will work its magic on me once more upon my return.

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