PALESTINE — I know of  a magical place. I have only been there two handfuls of  times, but each time I go, I feel a sense of serenity. This particular place is owned by a friend of mine. Land that has been passed down from generation to generation. Her great grandfather purchased the land in this area in the 1880s.

I am not sure that I can describe this magical place well enough to do it justice, but I will try. When  I first appeared in the driveway that leads to this magnificent place, I see nothing but pasture and a barn that her grandfather used for storing hay. As I drive farther onto the property and over a ravine there, nestled amongst the trees on a creek embankment, is a home. The numerous trees are very large, some possibly one hundred years old, each limb reaching out in every direction as if they are pointing to something remarkable. Scattered about the yard in front of the home are old pieces of farm implements used once upon a time in these very fields by her great grandfather. The white stucco home with numerous sliding glass doors in front, is nothing of particular interest to me at first, and as I walk upon the stone walkway to the home, I  am perplexed as to where to find the front door. As I follow the stones, I soon discover that the front door is on the side of the house, where close to the door written into the stucco before it hardened, it states that six generations of this family have graced this beautiful land.

As I walk through the front door of this home, I stop, astonished at the spell binding view through the floor to ceiling glass that covers the entire back of this home. The ceilings are vaulted and extremely high, so this spectacular view includes the trees and the sky. The rooms are very airy and flow openly from one to the other. The back and sides of the house are surrounded by concrete patios.  All of the bedrooms are at the front of the house and each with a sliding glass door that leads to one concrete walkway. Along the back of the house are two large great rooms with the kitchen in the middle, all with a floor to ceiling view of the beautiful creek below through the astonishingly large windows that all slide open from floor to ceiling. All of the walls are off white in color, which makes the home appear bright and cheerful. A large wood burning cast iron stove fills one corner of a great room.  As I am walking through the home I notice that above each doorway is a plaque with the inscription of an ancestor's name, each plaque reflecting a different name. The only hallway in the home is filled with framed photographs of ancestors gone but not forgotten, moments captured in time.  As I walk down this hallway looking at these men, women and children, I envision the lives that they must have led and the memories they created on this land. One particular photograph of two children in a small wooden cart harnessed to a goat draws me near. Later I learn that one of these children is the father of her cousin, who also is a friend of mine.

Each room in this home has a great view, but I am fascinated with the view through the glass windows overlooking the creek.  The creek flows year round through this property.  The upper crest of the creek is directly behind the house, where a waterfall spills softly over iron ore rocks into the lower part of the iron ore creek bed; the transformation gradual and very therapeutic.  I walk through the glass doorway to find a stone trail off of a concrete back patio, the trail leading down the embankment to the creek. The view comparable only to something out of a fairy tale. I walk down the steep stone path, thick with ground covering on each side, to the creek and follow the creek bed in the direction of the flowing water.   

As I am walking with my friend along the spring fed creek, I stop and ask about two formations consisting of many large iron ore rocks that are partially up the creek bank. The formations are the size of a large wash tub.  I am told that they are man made troughs, made in the 1880's by her great grandfather for the horses. There is one more water trough, the size of a loaf of bread, that sits at the top of the creek bank centered above the larger troughs.  This “dipping trough” was built for the people that lived and worked on this land to drink from. All of the troughs hold the spring fed water that flows through the creek, only known to run dry during a severe drought. This was something that I have never heard of, and I stood in wonder gazing at them. As we reach the beginning part of the creek bank there is a spring fed well carved directly into the iron ore creek bed. This five foot deep well was dug by her grandfather and pours onto the creek bed during rain.  

 This place is so magical and is amazingly peaceful. I am so envious of her being so blessed to be able to live on this beautiful land so rich with her family history. I imagine my friend curling up with a good book and a cup of coffee in the mornings, listening to trickling water, leaves rustling in the breeze, squirrels chattering and birds chirping in this truly wonderful place. I do not go there often, but when I do, I love walking with her and listening to the stories of her ancestors and how this place came about.  

Our town is so rich in history and stories, I have a lot of heritage in this town, and love learning about my families’ history and the land that they own, but this place, owned by my friend, is by far the most fascinating of them all. The home was designed by my friend’s mother, said to be her mother's “happiest accomplishment in life.”  Looking at the home and the scenery surrounding it, I soon realize that extreme thought was put into every aspect of this home, displaying the heritage of the land and the people who have lived there before.

 We all should have a place that is amazing to us. A place that reaches out to us as individuals. A place that takes our breath away, whether it be a busy city, an ocean, a lake, a mountain top or a spring fed creek nestled in the heart of East Texas. This  place, for me, is the most, well for the lack of a better term, magical place I have ever encountered.