The Webhanette River flows between Wells and Moody Beach Maine and forms the Webhannet Marshes behind the dunes of Wells Beach. On its way down to the sea it flows over some rocky ledges. Waterfalls of any size in Southern Maine are few enough so that the Town of Wells has created a little park around the falls, not, honestly, much visited. It is a quiet spot just of busy RT 1, on a loop of road that has been bypassed by newer construction, and worth a look most seasons. Here it is in its winter persona, minus, due to our strange winter so far, the usual solid coating of snow that generally buries the rock and the ice itself…so I guess it is a somewhat unusual view. 

I like the way the flowing water has frozen…the interesting shapes and textures…and the way the strongest flow has remained free.

Canon SX40HS in Program with iContrast and –1/3EV exposure compensation. 1) 120mm equivalent field of view, f4.5 @ 1/160th @ ISO 100. 2) and 3) 410mm equivalent, f5 @ 1/160th @ ISO 125 and 160.

Processed in Lightroom for Intensity and Sharpness.

And for the Sunday thought: Many places in the world, and even in Maine, no one would even notice Webhanette Falls. It is too small, too tame, too homely. But when you live on a coastal plain, hundreds of miles from real mountains (where in fact any decently high hill is called a mountain) any waterfall is a treat…a reminder of the beauty and the power of falling water. And what is it about waterfalls anyway? Why do we humans, pretty much universally, find them awe-inspiring…why do we drive and hike out of our way to see them? We paint them, we take pictures of them. We are irresistibly and undeniably drawn. Why did the town of Wells, when the new Rt. 1 was constructed, preserve this little park around this vest pocket water fall?

I can ask the questions but I can’t answer them. All I know is that waterfalls make me glad…a bit giddy in fact. They lift my spirit, fill my soul with wonder. They make me happy. There is a sense of play about them…from the smallest to the most majestic that speaks, always…maybe in a whisper at Webhanette and a roar at Niagara…but speaks always to the place in me that feels closest to the creator.