Williamson Creek

1. Prelude

White clouds floated across a blue summer sky, today. In the morning, a cool breeze blew out of the south. The sun threw down spots of brightness dancing on the lawn. In the afternoon the coolness was gone, and the spots no longer so much danced as hammered down upon us. Our hair grew hot; sweat ran down our cheeks. When evening came and the sun approached the hills, we went for a hike along Williamson Creek.

Behind a shopping center, the trail left the roadside at an acute angle and dropped into a seemingly untouched part of Central Texas. Water from the recent rains pooled in dark places beneath the Oaks and Elms, but whereas two days ago it ran across the trail, today our shoes stayed dry.

2. Crossing the Creek

Across a little bridge and a narrow street leading into a neighborhood newly carved from this place, the trail took us down to the creek. There were horse shoe tracks here and limestone boulders strewn to the left and right. And there were dry snags of flotsam some six feet high caught in the trees from some past flood. Today, the creek ran shallow and clear.

Two days ago, the current was swifter and just deep enough (calf-high) that we decided to turn back, but today we could step across the stones in its bed without getting wet and staying out of the mud. We climbed the opposite bank, leaving the creek behind us, emerging back into the woodland meadow.

We didn't really know where we were going, but we followed the trail, and we wondered where it would lead.

3. The Sound of Falling Water

Can you hear that? I asked.

I stood still. Trudy stodd still. Guinness stood still.

Can you hear it? I asked as I pointed to the woods. The gentle sound of falling water was coming from the trees.

She nodded, and we turned to continue along the trail.

Then I looked back at the woods and squinted to see what I could see. It was mostly dark in there, and the Juniper trees at the margin spread out daunting claws, but as I looked closer, it seemed that just beyond those Junipers the thicket thinned and the undergrowth cleared.

Wait, I said.

4. A Cathedral in the Woods

Let's go in there and find the waterfall.

So we turned off the trail, walking thru the knee-high grass, pushing aside the Juniper branches that had seemed so threatening, and walking into the trees.

Wow, I said, hoping Trudy was close behind. Look at this!

I was at a loss for words. Wow, I said again.

It was as if we had entered a cathedral. The canopy lifted. The Junipers stepped back. Oaks held out their branches above us. The light of day dimmed, filtered thru the canopy.

Ahead of us, Williamson Creek spread across a flat limestone shelf, flowing wide and shallow, filling the frequent fissures in the rock, running around periodic stones. And here at our feet, the shelf dropped, and the water fell over white rock and green moss, making the music that we heard from the trail.

It was getting late. The sun was going down. It was time to go home.

We promised that we'd be back.

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