'Even the rocks look like they’re enjoying a spa day.'

The sound of rushing water grew louder as I descended the trail. When I finally reached the base of Horseshoe Falls, it felt as though I had stepped into a living painting. The water tumbled over the rocks in delicate streams, each one carving its own path before merging into the pool below. Ferns framed the scene like nature’s curtains, their leaves glistening with drops that caught the sunlight in fleeting bursts. A fallen tree lay across the foreground, its mossy surface a testament to time’s quiet persistence. I crouched beside it and ran my fingers over its damp bark, feeling a connection to something far older than myself. The air was cool and damp here, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and flowing water. For a moment, I forgot about everything beyond this small pocket of the world.