Water falls by way of gravity, making its way back to the ocean and leaving behind scenes of beauty like this clear mountain river in Jackson, NH.
I walked another trail to Diana's Baths, a splendid series of waterfalls and elegantly carved stone. As I sat by the rush of water over hard fissures and rounded swirls of rock, I felt a sense of timelessness.
What does it take, I thought, to break such hardness into progressively smaller stones, to carry all of that material downward and cover valleys with nourishing soil? In turn, even the valleys disappear as all of the land is taken.
What does it take to remove a mountain from the earth and cover the bottom of the ocean with its remains? Such a thing transcends me.
The water flows and carves, giving no heed to the scale of human notions. The White Mountains, like the rest of the Appalachians, are hundreds of millions of years old. Once as tall as the Rockies, perhaps taller, they have been eroded down to nobs of hard granite. And like these images, these splendid, rounded mountains too are only a snapshot in the eye of unimaginable geologic time.