The Waterfall

When I was a little girl we used to hike down the creek, past the spring and around a hill, to get to a waterfall .  We liked to walk in the creek when it was shallow enough, hopping from rock to rock if the water got too deep.  Before the falls the creek was shallow and sparkly, rushing merrily over and around smooth rocks, but big granite boulders on either side suddenly narrowed the channel into a pouring stream that tumbled over a ledge and fell seven or eight feet down into a nice, deep pool below.  It was a pretty waterfall, and exciting to little kids.  You could get to the falls by hiking down from the Indian Ruins on the hill above, but that was quite a long hike.  We liked walking through the creek instead, though it was hard to climb down the boulders to get to the pool below.

One summer evening Dad and Uncle David walked to the falls, taking Keith with them.  He must have only been about four years old.   Rainbow trout swam in the hole below the falls, and it was a great place to go fishing.  On this particular evening the sun had just dipped below the trees, and long shadows covered the pool and creek.  Everything was clearer by the creek, and colors were deeper.  Blue sky reflected off the water, white granite boulders contrasted brightly against deep green sycamore, black walnut, and poplar leaves.  The day was still warm, but the creek was cold and inviting.  Dad held Keith’s hand as he helped him climb over and around the big boulders that led down to the pool.  At the bottom Keith stood and searched the dark waters to see if there were any trout swimming around.  Suddenly, a flash of light and splash of water startled the little boy. 

            “Did you see that?”  Uncle David exclaimed.  “A fish just jumped!”

            All of a sudden another flash of light caught their eyes, and they saw the smooth water ripple where the fish had fallen back in.

            “Look,” Dad pointed to the creek.  “The fish are jumping!”

            Keith was fascinated.  They sat on rocks by the water and watched as one after another trout jumped out of the pool and splashed back in.

            “Why are they jumping?” Keith wanted to know.

            “They’re trying to catch little flies and bugs,” Dad told him.  “That’s what they like to eat.”

            They watched the pool until it was dusk and they had to hurry to get home before dark.  All the way back to the cabin Keith talked about the jumping fish.  It seemed so strange to him that fish, who swam in the water all day long, would be able to jump up into the air like that when they saw a bug they wanted to eat.

              The waterfall is gone now.  During the big flood of 1970 it was washed out, along with many other landmarks along the creek.  The last time I walked down there was only a small dip in the creek, where once the water tumbled over the fall.  It made me sad, I didn't want my world to change, but like the foreshadowing in a story the loss of the waterfall foretold the changes on the horizon in my own life.