About a half mile from where I live, just off a hardpan dead-end road there's a spot that slopes down on duff past large boulders to a lively rock-bottomed, burbly stream that periodically changes its bed, piling up rock and gravel walls that will eventually also wash away in some future winter storm. Along the bank is a tall tree-lined timeless place where you can almost visually see gladsome little beings flit about.


I call it a magic place.