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. 

Blessings,

Bev

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.