|Nugget was at the groomers and missed the walk.|
My special brand of masochism involved taking my children with me today. And it was every bit the disaster you'd imagine. They're on spring break and mercifully go back to school tomorrow. I was able to get them out of bed and on the road before 10am. Ben assigned himself the job of monitoring my speed on the interstate; Andy designated himself the head of the Smug Police, and issued a verbal warning to any backseat drivers who seemed to big for their britches. They corrected each other's grammar and criticized each other's vocabulary. Andy befouled the car several times and claimed the stink with the pride of an 8-year-old.
When we got off the interstate we drove along the country roads in the bright sun and Ben said, almost nonchalantly, "I see a wolf, Mommy." I asked him if he was serious, and then his brother chimed in and said he'd seen a wolf, too, naturally. If they actually saw anything, it was either a red fox or a coyote, so I turned the car around and rumbled along the berm peering into the woods while they argued over whether foxes fart and who saw it first. I saw nothing. Andy stuck to his story but Ben finally conceded that it might just have been a bush.
The ice was still there. This weekend was the first weather above freezing in two months. For over eight weeks the ice has lingered. It's given me an amazing study, watching it change every other week, seeing the many forms it can take and the many, many moods. The Conservancy has closed the spillway and the lake is beginning to rise. Signs of spring! In the photos it's obvious where the rising water has seeped out from under the thick, opaque ice and has frozen along the shoreline, but this ice is frail. Off the end of the dock I was able to stand on it, and I suspect it will take all of 10 days for it to disappear.
|The lake is rising|
|My little blonde burden|
I tried to give the kids a nature walk. I silently told myself that they were not willing to receive the experience today. But then I realized they were having their own experience. They are little children; they don't see the moods of the ice. They don't relish stillness, and the sound of a woodpecker is but an interesting tidbit on the way to the next mudhole. They aren't capable of seeing what I see, and there's nothing wrong with that. When I was 8 I probably enjoyed tossing rocks and tire swings more than I did traipsing through crusty snow that came up to my shins. That was where I started, and now I'm a grown adult who put those fun little moments in nature together to form a greater appreciation and desire for nature. Whether I put them in "real" nature or "artificial" nature, I cannot manufacture experiences for them. Nor would I want to. Today I let them play, and I let them take some risks. I didn't ask anything of them but to walk with me and listen for birds. I may not know for 30 years what these experiences mean to them, but hope they will be worthwhile.
As for me, I did not get my dose of Piedmont Peace. But I saw another perspective, got a stern reminder that my eyes are by no means the only eyes. Take whatever experience you like from nature; it's all good.
|Here you can see how far up the lake has risen since |
they closed the spillway.
|He decided this was as far as he was willing to go.|
|The church campers will appreciate that, Andy.|
|Those two dark blobs in the snow are|