All set for a little adventure!
On the heels of another boring errand - picking up the vacuum from the repairman - I decided that we'd finally check out Millbrook Marsh.
Are you noticing a theme here? I love throwing something educational and fun in with the mundane things of life. I see it as a priceless life lesson ~
behave in the boring things and good things come your way.
The boardwalks at the Marsh are rather intriguing, since we don't normally get to explore such things.
We're up for games of Pooh-sticks... ahem... Pooh-flowers.
Brush up on your A.A. Milne if you aren't certain how to play.
And the cat-tails!
Oh, the cat-tails! What curious marsh plants they are, especially when there are scads and scads of them, whispering and rustling gently in the breeze. Blossom3's delight and fascination with her cat-tails rivaled glee over a true cone of cotton candy.
We checked out the bird-watching station, noting the calling "squee" of fowl
amidst an azure sky.
Hmmmmm, more Pooh-flowers?
No, more exploring!
Blossom1 lingered at the back of the pack, lazily and affectionately chatting with me.
Blossom4 enjoyed listening to her hollow footfalls, as the crunchy leaves tumbled down the boardwalk in the gentle wind.
She also adored balancing on the edges. I don't usually mind walking a bit slower to accommodate her little footsteps. I was a gymnast; I spent A LOT of time balancing on curbs and whatnot. My mama never left me behind.
Blossom4's pixie energy drove her to stare inquisitively over the side of the boardwalk, in order to see what was underneath. I can't say that I blame her, as I wondered that myself.
It strikes me that a lot of parenting is a generous dose of empathy. When I step in their shoes, I'm a little more patient, a little more understanding. I slow down. I look. I listen.
Blossom4 also whipped out her magnifying glass to better admire nature's intricacies.
This "lace" is exquisite, wouldn't you agree?
Blossom2 forged constantly ahead, willing to "harvest" these and other small beauties for her sisters.
So many little things are quite lovely ~ tiny packages of beauty.
Blossom3 was enthralled with the purple plumpness of these berries. She sketched them in her nature journal, among other such things.
We lingered on a wooden outcropping, getting comfortable and quiet, relishing the cheery buzzing of cricket-like creatures and the faraway squeal of a chipmunk.
Colored pencils clattered about.
Erasers were shared.
The "Mama, how do you spell _______?s" littered our sporadic conversation.
Afterward, the Blossoms ventured creek-ward for more exploring. Our rock hound, Blossom2, discovered this fascinating rock in the happily babbling creek. It had been painted by a local artist, complete with a hashtag for internet searching.
The Blossoms' curiosity was piqued when they realized that Blossom2 had to re-hide this rock.
"It's a game? Hide and re-hide?!"
Mr. Drake here agreed that the perfect hiding spot was absolutely necessary. (Blossom2 informed me of his thoughts on the matter.)
How 'bout a tree?
Look up! Should she hide it there?
Or in the wild mint so jauntily swaying in the current?
Doggedly they hunted high
and low for a new hiding spot.
They searched far and wide,
and settled on a non-descript garden.
I would've chosen the tree, but hey, I'm just an adult. What do I know about hiding things?
Dominique
