Usually I let Greg pick the trail we'll tackle on a sunny weekend. He's already been on a few and knows what we can expect. But last Saturday, I chose. I picked an easy one because I was in the mood for a stroll, one where I could appreciate the sights and sounds of nature instead of wondering if the distance and the elevation might kill me.
The path we walked on Saturday crossed over a babbling brook- OK let's stop right there. "Babbling Brook" seems perfectly accurate, though I can't say why. When is a stream a brook? When is a brook a creek? How do rivers come into play? Do Brook Shields' streaming legs creek when she plays in a river? Let's investigate these words, shall we?
According to Merriam-Webster:
A brook is a small stream.
A stream is a small river.
A river is a large stream.
A creek is a narrow stream of water, usually branching off a river (but not as small as a brook?).
OK, I'm sticking with "brook." But why "babbling"? Some would say I'M babbling and frankly, I've already lost interest in what I'm saying. Let's just look at some pretty pictures.
Why so many pictures of bridges? The path takes you over EIGHT of these charming little bridges.
At the end of the trail, we were faced with this wall of rock and the sound of a waterfall we couldn't see.
Greg climbed up to get a better view. You can see him waving in the right side of the photo.
Somehow he convinced me to scramble up on the rocks, despite my fear of heights. I got a look at the small waterfall, shot this photo and bargained with God to somehow get me back down safely. He did. The bad news is that now I have to become a nun.
We decided this is a good hike for company who can't handle anything more challenging. It's a lovely, peaceful walk over eight bridges and a brook that won't shut up.