Leafed Brooklet

Just outside of Sedona, Arizona, lies of land of magic and wonder; a place where colors transcend space and time, a place that is so amazingly awe-inspiring that it is hard to remember to breath, and a place whose beauty cannot be described. Men call it West Fork Oak Creek, but surely it is a garden fallen from Mount Olympus.

As I was walking through the forest, exploring it and marveling in the wonders large and small that I found, I came across a small brooklet that used to run. Today, though, it was covered by the warm blanket of autumn, and the leaves shrouded, yet didn’t completely obscure, where the stream ran. Instead of running water, it is running color, a sight equally amazing. How could I not stop and make this photograph?

The leaves upon the mossy rock intrigued me as well. Did someone place them there? Or did they fall there, a perfect counterpoint the stream behind them, by mere random chance, should such a thing exist? The answer to the question, though, isn’t all that important to me.

For now, the stream bed beckons, and I need to follow it to see what other wonders are in store for me.

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