Anderson Falls (near the home of the fam) isn't really all that remarkable.
It's not exactly Niagara, it's not a big tourist destination, heck, if you don't know which back road to take, you'd never even find it.
And yet, it's one of my favorite spots when I think of "back home".
I remember clambering across the stepping stones, proud that I made it without falling, even on my little girl legs.
I remember sliding my way down to walk behind the falls, frozen into solid ice during a particularly cold winter.
I remember walking the trails with my father, not saying much, but enjoying the outdoors and the alone time, which was fairly rare.
I remember walking along the river bed during droughts, jumping from stone to stone, splashing water, and wondering if we could make it to the end of the river if we could just walk fast enough...
But like so many things, Anderson Falls seems to have fallen into disarray in the last few years - the parking lot is tiny and potholed, the paths are overgrown and tangled, and the stepped stones are all gone, not having been replaced for years, leaving the other side of the river totally isolated.
And yet, with all the rain we've had lately, the falls seemed to be reminding us that she's more than just a trickle of a stream and a forest of trees. The water is a torrent, tumbling over the falls and creating her own spray, coating the trees nearby.
I'm so glad I was there to see the deluge. Now, if only I could get across again, to those magical trails that spin you further and further into the forest...
Scribbled by Marissa