Refreshed by Waterfall Artistry

I enter from above the waterfall at Russian Gulch State Park, passing a small deep basin of water, deceptively still, before it rushes down a rock face.
Rough steps wind down a serpentine trail to a simple wooden bridge.
Alone on the structure I gaze at beads of water suspended in air as they drop down to a shallow pool.
Magnificent redwoods and firs have fallen to create thick tightropes on which to walk if you have that type of daring blood coursing through your veins. My blood is only partially daring; or is it foolhardy?
Some logs are definitely off limits.
But I am adventurous enough to explore underneath them where someone has dropped a line of Andy Goldsworthy-style orange peels. The out-of-place color plays off dark leaf shadows and a checkerboard current.
My artist’s eye notices lime green reflections dancing above splinters of wood resting on the sandy silt.
The bridge’s shadows have the feeling of a monochromatic abstract painting. Art is everywhere.
On rare hot days I’m willing to unlace my hiking boots, wade into the coolness and be sprayed by the falling water.
But today is brisk and I’ve finished wandering. Time to head back, refreshed and ready to continue the day.

Photos © Sondra Sula.

Take a walk with me by reading my daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.

If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

When the rains finally arrive on the drought-ridden coast, it’s time to hike to The Waterfall. And everyone here knows that means the one in Russian Gulch State Park along the Falls Loop Trail.
Water trickles down in many spots, but there are few dramatic falls in our area. Even The Waterfall can look pretty meager during the summer months.
The rains also bring mushrooms, from large
to small.
The added moisture freshens up lungmoss, named for its resemblance to lung tissue.
Teas made from it are thought to help respiratory issues. I left it to dwell in its natural habitat not only because I don’t like ants in my tea, but because it is unlawful to remove any plants from California state parks.
I discovered some traditional moss growing through a toadstool and found myself once again marveling at the exquisiteness of creation.
So much of what I was seeing was fleeting: here today, gone tomorrow. My takeaway is to appreciate what I can here and now. It costs nothing but time.

Photos © Sondra Sula.

Take a walk with me by reading my most recent daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.

If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.

Loved

I went to the far north end of Russian Gulch State Park—a portion I had never explored before. I beheld curvaceous coves, rocky outcroppings and surprising sea tunnels.

The vistas were lovely. The sky kept changing from white to blue, which in turn colored the water slate or turquoise. A view that I thought of as constant shifted without moving. Impressionists would be intrigued.

I enjoy grand scenery as much as the next person, but getting close up is my chosen way to experience the world around me. Once I climbed down the cliffs, I encountered tiny plants and flowers.

I spent the next ten minutes tracking a beetle across an expanse of lichen-covered rocks. As I watched its segmented red legs scurry, its antennae wave and its tiny black eyes rotate to choose a path, I thought: You, my friend, are loved. By me. By your Creator. We are aware of you.

Now completely satisfied, I turned and began the trek back. I crouched down for a better view of a tiny snail shell that caught my eye—a perfect spiral. Even though it was no longer inhabited, I knew God loved it through its entire life cycle.

As if in confirmation, and only due to my close-to-the-ground vantage point, I saw the word “loved” carved underneath a picnic table. I realized that no matter how much life shifts around us, the constant is love.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

Life on the Edge

Walking along the headlands of northern California is not for the timid. Strong winds, crumbling cliffs and dizzying heights all must be taken into consideration. A fall will change one’s life dramatically, or end it, due to the craggy rocks below. And even if one is fortunate enough to plunge directly into the sea, frigid temperatures will soon render one’s arms, legs and mind useless. Sounds daunting, right?

Yet many people traverse these narrow trails daily. Why? Because the views are stunning and life on the edge provides a thrill—a sudden gratefulness for one’s very existence.

Plants thrive and bloom despite the harsh gusts, some clinging to shallow deposits of soil between boulder cracks. The bluffs are awash with color: rich purples, flaming pinks, shocking yellows, brilliant greens. Some flora is designed to absorb moisture from the coastal fog, other plants can wait it out until a rain washes through.

Insects don’t shy away from these promontories, either. Bees, beetles and buzzing bugs would create a symphony if not for the roaring waves and whistling wind.

If the headlands have a message I would venture to say it is: Life is worth the risk. If fear is keeping potentially enriching experiences at arm’s length, draw a little closer. Just make sure you have deep treads on your hiking boots and know when you’re too close to the edge.

All photos © Sondra Sula.