The two springs merge and flow south through pasture land for a quarter mile, where their little stream is joined by another that small stream that emerges from another spring. While the first two springs will go dry in a drought, the third one has never ceased flowing in recorded memory. The property on which this latter spring sits is one of the original William Penn land grants (I am told). A home was built over the spring some 20 years ago; prior to that time, I would frequently stop there for some ice cold water during a run.
But back to the watercourse. The yield of the three springs crosses the Clay Hill Road and continues south, but only about another quarter mile. Here there is a crevice in the limestone bedrock of the streambed, and in times of relatively low water the entire flow of the stream simply disappears into the ground. It submerges into a limestone cave, one whose passages are too small or without a human-sized opening to access and explore.
Oh, and the nexus to Ultrarunning?
In Ultrarunning, I have periods when I am in emergence mode and times of submergence mode. Sometimes I am busting out, full of energy and full of the possible. It is a time of race applications, of long, involved training runs, of complex schemes.
Other times I find myself more contemplative, more inward, more in simple maintenance mode. I’ve submerged and will bide my time until the light of day beckons again.