Tuesday, 11 October 2011
It was the last day of the Indian summer and I walked to Sharrah Pool through dappled woods that glowed in their greenness. I was alone and didn't see anyone. As I approached the pool I noticed holly berries, already red and fat. There is something about Sharrah that stills your soul. You are enclosed by the trees but float under an expansively open sky. The water was its usual self; soft and kind in the wide pool and boiling and furious under the cascade.