Dill's Attic

It started as a simple father-son outing, just me and my 10-year-old son, Christian, chasing waterfalls with camera in hand. He’s usually glued to a controller, not a trail, so I knew it’d be a push. We began at Lower Dill Falls—an easy walk, enough to warm him up and get his blood flowing. He handled it well, snapping a few photos and skipping rocks while I framed my shots.

Then came the climb to Upper Dill Falls.

The sun was relentless, and the 80-degree heat wrapped around us like a wet blanket. Christian started to fade, huffing and puffing up the trail, cheeks flushed and shirt soaked through. “You okay, bud?” I asked. He nodded, breathless but determined. Step by step, he kept going, refusing to quit. I was proud before we even reached the top.

And when we did… the reward was divine.

The light cut through the trees just right, illuminating the mossy rocks and the cascading water like a scene from a dream. I waded out into the cool stream, set up my tripod, and captured the moment. Another masterpiece from God’s gallery, frozen in time.

Christian stood beside me, quiet now, awe replacing exhaustion.

We didn’t just find a waterfall that day—we found strength, beauty, and a moment we’ll both carry forever.