There is a majesty about water falling with graceful force over the jagged stone of our hometown gorges. A hike to the base of Taughannock or the climb along the winding Treman staircases are ventures sublime enough to ground me, bring my soul back to balance. The cool mist freely tossed to a sweaty summer visitor is ever the welcome favor. The bright bursts of autumn flora contrasted against the shale's steel gray can enthrall a girl of my sort.
Come in the winter though, when cascading water stops abruptly, frozen mid-descent while the rest tumbles forcefully to the bottom. You'll find the scene transformed. Ice cold mist covers everything in the vicinity and then promptly freezes. This makes for a landscape of thick ice, covers the face of the cliffs in white, induces every thinking visitor to wonder in amazement at the resilience of the frozen vegetation. The micro-climate is ruthless, a frenetic contest between a tyrannical beating spray and the paralyzingly cool wind. They race to determine who can inflict the greatest harassment. In reality, nature's harassment is the creator of a beauty difficult to imagine and equally difficult to capture on film. You really have to stand surrounded by this other-worldly climate to appreciate its power and splendor. I can't really explain it. There isn't a word or string of words complete enough to relate the magnificence you'll find here in the winter.
That's a shameless plug for the place I live. There are plenty of things I could list as complaints, but the nature in its landscape blows me away and then pulls me back in close. And I love it.
 |
| Ithaca Falls |
 |
| Taughannock |
 |
| Buttermilk |
Your word choice is beautiful. People often tag me as one using large words, but I feel like an infant when compared to your lexicon.
ReplyDelete