It's a fairly shallow brook that runs behind my parent's house in NS. I remember playing down there for hours when we were kids. Throwing rocks, watching sticks float down stream, and at one point there was even a swimming hole that was maybe up to our waists. The brook seemed to change every year and I think we could only swim in it for a few summers.
When we were visiting over Easter Emma and I took a walk along the brook which eventually feeds into a river. We walked all the way down to the river, stopping in spots to throw rocks and sticks into the brook. Emma had her rubber boots on so she waded in the freezing cold water.
Love those rubber boots. I could not get over how much the brook had changed. Things were grown in more than I remember and it seemed that spots we use to play around looked so much different. New streams had formed where the brook had taken a different path. I could literally close my eyes, listen to the sounds of the babbling brook and be transported right back to my childhood. It was no Disneyland or Seaworld but to me it was a magical place.
I don't know if Emma will ever feel the connection to this special part of home that I do, but one thing is for certain we sure did have a great afternoon "playing down by the brook".