A Closer Look At Chagrin Falls, Ohio.
There is a quaint little town east of Cleveland where time stands frozen in the Spring of the season. The only constant motion is the waterfalls that harbor ducks and geese, and children feeding them bread. There is an old fashioned ice cream and popcorn shop where many delectable delights can be consumed as you walk down the wooden stairs to stare at the falls.
The sounds of the water cascading drowns out the traffic and the chatter of excited tourists above, and you are swept back to some earlier time, poised on the brink of a long needed crossing away from the chaos of today. The falls are well known for one stunt man who every year sets himself on fire and leaps into them. The reason why they named them Chagrin Falls
is beyond me, for I am anything but sad when I visit there. There is a lovely hand wrought bandstand at the center of town, where concerts are played often. There is also a theater where Tim Conway once walked the stage boards as a teen. This was his hometown till fame called him away. With many gingerbread trimmed houses, and more gables then Clark could have ever sired, there is much architecture to savor all around the outskirts of this fair lady
Yours Truly is a restaurant that has been a staple there for years, serving incredible food
to all who stop in and partake of their not-so fires loaded with cheese, sour creme and chives if you like a bit of tang. It is an artist community, and art is visible everywhere, And the have a huge art show in mid summer with well over a hundred or more exhibitors of fine work.
But it is most of all a place to gather one's thoughts, on the sun baked streets, and by the refreshing splash of the falls as it tumbles eternally away.
Enjoy the pictures, and perhaps go there sometine when you are just passing through, and see for yourself the serenity if can offer.
More by this Author
"When quiet shatters...its pieces can scar you forever." ~ "Somebody help me.....please call 911!!" a lady cried banging on my screened entrance in a staccato of fear yanked brusquely from the...
I pause in my journey to the grave of my friend, to commemorate his birthday in a mid-December snowfall. The trees are skeletons beyond the gate coated in white. It is as if the bones, buried far below, have...
An extract remarks a north. Peace Sleeps in the the Dust of Lost Dreams. © -MFB III They came to the old hippie, a poet of great merit, asking him for hope. just some peaceful solutions freshly penned, ...