Leslie White Trailhead Studios
Rocks, Rivers, Reflections
The rock pile outside my Grandpa’s workshop was a hidden treasure. He would cut and polish all kinds of rocks in that makeshift shop that clung to the side of the cliff under the balcony of the family cabin. At the bottom of the cliff, the crystal clear North Fork of the Guadalupe sparkled emerald green. I used to love to pick through the polished stones and fossils while watching the Guadalupe bass swim along the bottom of the river. Our rock pile sat on a flint vein embedded in the limestone hill and grew larger and more interesting every time Grandpa tossed out leftover rock pieces from his projects.
I still look for rocks, at least in places where it’s legal to do so. When my husband, four children, and I lived in Africa, I collected beach pebbles along Lake Malawi. My daughter and I also once picked through shiny bits of crystal and slapped away tsetse flies while my husband and oldest son changed a tire along a road in Zambia.
Every rock tells the story of its creation, environment and history to whoever finds and admires its unique beauty. I am amazed by what I see while hiking, especially if I come across clear water that enhances the colors and shapes of everything it flows over.
I hope to go back some day to that cabin on the cliff overlooking the Guadalupe River. That is where I first learned to contemplate light patterns on water, colorful veins in rocks, and distant natural forms. My goal is to interpret special places in the world, from a bird’s eye view, panoramic view and also close up. Rocks, Rivers, Reflections