The water falling down the steep, moss covered ledge of rock forty feet to a diagonal slate below causes the water to fan itself down to the refreshing pool carved overtime below. I can only imagine what a treat this must be on a hot summer day, a natural water slide. Sitting in front of and below the falls, I cannot imagine a more proper and fitting name than "Chapel Falls". It was named after an old chapel which existed above the falls sometime in the 1800s; Nature has since reclaimed the land. I like to think the name derived from the lower most falls, water dripping, falling, and splashing onto the flat slate below in the most majestic sense possible. A flat, square ledge, constantly covered by a thin layer of water dramatically forming and falling, pattering, speckling, and spatting, the sound reminiscent of church bells,of the wondrous beauty Gothic style architecture people once obsessed over, slaved over and made a reality. Of the flying buttresses and rose glass windows, steeples reaching new heights, adorned with pointed arches and reverent references to Art History. Waterfalls: are my Chapel.
