My Watermark is the Sauble River, Ontario.

When I was young at the river, I stood at the edge of the falls and let the water go through my feet. The water is cold and clear and fresh. It was so quiet and peaceful and bright. I was careful to not be swept away by the current. It was truly beautiful and majestic and pure. I carefully climbed the falls as the water rushed on my face.

I rented a kayak and went down the river. I saw a snake and turtle and fish. The water was so clear and fresh and full of life. I dragged my finger along the water and made ripples in the water. There was no one in sight.

I would fish. The water was so still. The water rippled away from my hug. Then I felt it, it was a bass, spotted and colorful and full of energy. As I pulled it out of the water, water dripped off of it. I picked it up, its scales, slime, water and all.

As the sand went between my toes, I dove in the water. It was fresh and clean and clear. When I was young, I never wished to climb mountains or live in the city, or camp in the forest. The river was enough. It still is.