Laughter and adventure is great medicine, but so is being swallowed by the beautiful tranquility of nature.
Everything living harmoniously together, working in unison to sustain life, whispers peace.
Thousands of years of endurance represent wisdom.
Even through it's very existence is often threatened, it trudges on with grace.
It doesn't fear wrinkles, it flaunts the characteristics that come with age like a trophy. 
Sometimes things that seem unbreakable collapse, but it's new path is embraced and adaptions take place.
The microscopic circle of life is always diligently working to maintain homeostasis, even when the world appears to be still.
And while the humans are away, the wildlife will play.
Sunday morning, while the majority of the campers were still sleeping off their hangovers or just rising to brush the cob webs off their teeth, Patrick and I explored the vacant swimming hole, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning and playing dangerously close to slyly looming vines of poison ivy.
It's amazing how differently a place can look on a desolate early morning as compared to a bustling Saturday afternoon.
An important part about being an adult is never forgetting how to be a kid.
Hide and seek, anyone?
Smacking on original flavor bubblicious gum and have bubble blowing competitions on the roots of a cypress at the base of a waterfall, anyone?
Obviously Patrick is way better at bubble blowing than I am.......along with whistling and playing the guitar and making fart noises with his ear.
But I can stand still and pose......
Him? I have to catch him in a rare moment of being still, with the assistance of a fairly fast shutter time.
Satisfied we'd thoroughly explored our surroundings, but with unsatisfied stomachs, we headed back to the campground to make breakfast.
Scrambled eggs with chopped cilantro and baby spinach paired with sliced avocado, thick apple-wood smoked bacon, and salsa was on the menu.
Yes, we'd brought everything with us but the kitchen sink, including a iron skillet and a blow-up mattress to put under our sleeping bags, but managed to forget our pillows (which wouldn't have been a terrible thing had I not woken up with a crick in my neck)!!! I read somewhere that using a large plastic baggie and closing it full of air could serve as a small camping pillow, but that just sounded awfully ghetto and equally uncomfortable, so I thought I could manage without.
Full and happy, we packed everything up in the cool morning breeze and headed to the spring for a day of leisurely activity.
We snagged a stunning spot on the bank with a splendid combination of view/shade/sun, key factors in calculating the the coordinates of where to place a picnic blanket on the waterfront grid.
I urged Patrick to get in the water first so I could analyze his face to gauge just how cold the water was.
He swam around for a bit and was looking too comfortable so I challenged him to be the first to swing from the rope.
Watching people swing and jump from objects into the water never gets old.
There's a certain amount of pressure that comes with doing such things in front of bystanders, their eager eyes gravitate and fixate on the awkward arms and legs splayed in all directions, waiting to see what happens when a particular posture hits the chilly water awaiting it's disturbance. Will they flop? Will there be a big splash? Will they do anything amazing? Will they suddenly become scared of letting go and continue to hang on to the rope, not thinking about the consequences of swinging back in the other direction, causing their body to slam back into the rock (like we witnessed a little boy do while we were there)?
It's a funny thing, sitting under a waterfall; you can never seem to get the water out of your eyes.
Thank goodness there weren't near as many people around on Sunday, or I'd have way too many people witness me flying through the air looking like a combination of a determined mutated Tarzan vs Wonder Woman with the unflattering crotch posture of Beyonce in that picture from her Super Bowl performance that keeps making an appearance on the Internet.
A couple of jumps off that rope and slippery climbs back up that over sized rock, and anyone in their right mind would be ready for a nap, so I climbed my way out to dry land with the handy help of some conveniently thirsty tree roots and joined Patrick in his relaxation zone.
Eventually, it was time to say our goodbyes to the Hill Country and head back to the city.
But before we left, we needed one more quick tree hug. 
See ya later Krause Springs........
We'd later find out all the "soreness" Patrick was feeling from the rope jumping was actually bilateral twin black, blue, and purple bruises on his inner upper thighs/groin, too gruesome and personal for pictures. "It hurts more now that I saw what's down there," he moaned. Hey, at least you don't have a potentially broken foot like me, or have a crick in your neck from not having something to rest your head on at night since I donated the extra wing of our sleepingbags to you to roll up and use as a substitue, or come down with poisen ivy from our exploring, or hit your face on a rock like the poor chicken kid did, or lose all your stuff from your ice chest tumbling over like those several unfortunate souls we saw.
What about life serves as the "best medicine" for you?
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