Sound came first. Flowing water leaping and splashing. I walked a little faster along the gravel trail.
In a state park known for caves, I’m hiking the shortest, least demanding trail. A couple of minutes from the visitor’s center and trailhead lies a long, narrow, wide body of water. It’s the sort of thing that makes me wonder where the line is between pond and lake. The surface is quiet, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of an insect landing or a small fish grabbing one for a snack.
Half a dozen Canada geese float on the water, ignoring the humans hiking along the shore. I look for a turtle sunbathing but fail to find one. This is just their sort of lounge area.
The water calls in a constant chorus. It’s a small thing as waterfalls go, guided by a concrete passage between a smaller (definitely pond) body of water several feet higher than the main one I’ve been following.