Around a curve in the path, the brook descended in a waterfall, only three or four feet in height and not much more than that in width. A sign revealed the lilting onomatopoetic name: Winnewissa Falls, from the Dakota language, meaning jealous maiden.
I imagined more than felt the hint of a light cool spray as I listened to Jealous Maiden falls. In the spring with the melting winter snows, the falls would have been boisterous. But it had been a dry summer, and a hushed and tranquil whoosh filled the air.
Excerpted from A Transcendental Journey
