Spring and dead muskrats
We're blessed with wonderful parks nearby. Parks with
branches bursting forth with sweet little green buds, and
furriness with a sense of adventure (look Mom, no hands!) , and
they know when to take a break, and
visitors with wisps of natural highlights that fight taming, and
little boys who still act like little boys, and
woody sermons, preaching of life springing forth, and
reminders to take a break, or go out on a limb now and then, and
visuals that what some would call weeds, we can choose to call something else, and
reminders to go out where it's a little deeper, but keep your head up, and
sometimes what we thought held life just doesn't, and
there are lessons on diving in, full throttle, and
sometimes it's okay to stick close to shore, and
a bad day of fishing is still better than the best day at work.
Spring, alive and well all around us. We just have to take time to look for it.
P.S. Littles first thought our creature was a beaver. Checked out tail. Then a rat. Then a muskrat, and after a few minutes of no movement, a dead muskrat. They thought it much more interesting than a live one. Oh to have the eyes of a child.