• By BOB ANDERSON
• Advocate Florida parishes bureau
• Published: Aug 16, 2007

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Cold water pours from the rocks overhead, glistening in the afternoon sun as it splashes onto my face.

Despite a dour mood that trailed me all weekend, I feel a smile emerge. The sound of a waterfall — big or small — soothes.

Life isn’t always kind to any of us, but when it shrouds my spirit I try to find a place like this one on Clark Creek near Pond, Miss.

My wife and I often hiked here before she died in May. Laurie and I began canoeing, camping and hiking together long before we married. After our children were born, they tagged along, stopping to see every small creature and to pick up every unusual rock. It slowed us, but watching the looks on their faces was worth it. What was the hurry anyway?

Now, as my youngest son and I scramble through the boulder-laden creek bed, I recall those days and am glad that I took the time with Casey back then to interest him in the outdoors and to forge our friendship. He’s a man now and my favorite hiking companion.

When faced with a destination choice, the route with a waterfall usually wins whether he and I are in the Rockies, the Sierra Nevadas or Tunica Hills. If there’s no waterfall around, then a lake, an ocean, a bayou or even a swamp has to do.

During the last few months, natural places have become an important escape for us. Even with limited time we’ve found tranquility canoeing on the Amite River, boating on Alligator Bayou or walking the boardwalk at Bluebonnet Swamp, while planning our next big hike which will be New Zealand.

Casey’s camera, a constant appendage, hangs from his shoulder. Today his best subject was an ebony jewelwing. The iridescent dragonfly flitted from leaf to limb posing in the sunlight as Casey leaned and twisted to follow its movements with his macro lens.

At Bluebonnet Swamp, sunning snakes remained surprisingly still as he inched — clicking, clicking, clicking — ever closer to fill his frames with their heads and flicking tongues.

At Alligator Bayou the favored subjects, of course, were alligators.

Casey seems to find a special solace in looking at wildlife through a lens.

When he and I took a 45-day train and backpacking trek across the West and into Canada a couple of summers ago, he shot more than 5,000 pictures. Since he’s a college student and pauper, I thanked God for digital cameras.

I shoot far fewer pictures than he, but understand how he can lose his cares by looking through a lens at nature.