Copyright Paul C Hanson and Chris Wagoner 2015
Lyrics and melody by Paul C. Hanson
Arrangement by Chris Wagoner
Musicians: Chris Wagoner (violin), Mary Gaines (cello), Doug Brown (guitar), Erik Radloff
Sound engineer: Jake Johnson, PARADYMNE Productions
Lyric (our attempted control over nature)
Verse 1
There’s a story must be told, now that I am grey and old.
My life was renewed in the spring of her beauty.
In my mind she’s standing still, resting ‘tween the verdant hills.
Afar gently calling, my heart endless falling.
Chorus
Move along my lady, wait no more.
Thy journey will restore, completely, wane lips that greet thee.
Falling Creek, beseech me. Restless dreams.
Return ephemeral stream, thy waking will ease my aching.
Verse 2
Not that I could ever see beyond her mystery.
Unlike any other, a gift from the Mother.
Wish that I could understand the purpose in her hand.
The life she is making, the one she’s forsaken.
Chorus
Verse 3
Though I tried to meet her pace, found that I a different race.
The power she’d been given, untamed, always driven.
Never would my selfish plea overcome what’s meant to be.
Her course is unbending, her pull never ending.
Chorus
Some places leave an imprint on your imagination, casting a lasting spell long after you’ve left. These places captivate us, pushing us to think beyond our own experiences and evoking a sense of magic that transcends the present. For me, one of those places is Falling Creek, a small reservoir with a timeless allure.
I first visited Falling Creek in June 2015 on a scientific research trip. Rarely does a place so perfectly match the image built in your mind through stories—but this one did. Standing on the dam, the reservoir stretches wide at its base, nearly a kilometer across. Mixed hardwoods overhang the shoreline, and on the left, steep mountain slopes rise dramatically. To the right, a bluff juts into view, obscuring much of the reservoir’s hidden expanse. Though man-made, Falling Creek feels untouched, a forgotten relic nestled in the backwoods of western Virginia. A century ago, this place didn’t exist, yet today it carries an aura of permanence. The last settlers left its shores nearly a hundred years ago, their presence marked only by abandoned stone walls that have softened into the hillsides, overtaken by oaks, hickory, and the occasional gnarled apple tree—a remnant of another time.
That day, I was there for science, but my mind drifted through the valley’s past. The contrast between Falling Creek’s seemingly eternal beauty and its relatively short history weighed on my thoughts, shaping the melody of this piece. The gentle plucked harmonics of the guitar at the opening evoke raindrops slipping from tree branches. A single, sustained cello note forms the foundation for the violin, which gradually builds into a sweeping theme—one that echoes the rhythms of early Appalachian life. As all three instruments come together in the steady, unhurried pace of ¾ time, the story of Falling Creek unfolds, pulling us ever deeper into its history and the rolling hills of Virginia.