A picnic dinner hike to start the week. The boy in the carrier on my back, his feet bouncing against my hips as I climb the steep, winding trail. The girl running ahead as fast as she can, then stopping, and requesting Dada’s hand to ascend the steepest part. Reenergized, she’s off again, jumping over logs, skipping over rocks.
A Pileated woodpecker flying from tree to tree, tapping, knocking in search of food. His primate-like call echoing through the forest.
A short break beside the vast hedge of day glow yellow forsythia, planted near the abandoned homestead site. Sandwiches inhaled, and off they go again, running, tripping, sliding their way down the trail. Singing, laughing, chasing the first tiny periwinkle-colored butterflies of the season.
"I spy something white and flowery." The first wildflowers rising from the forest floor. White daisy-like bloodroot.
Chartreuse moss-covered rocks at the creek crossing. We all stop to take in the depth of color, to listen to the trickling creek, to breathe in the cool, sweet air.
Daffodils, with their heavy heads swaying in the breeze. Tiny blooms of purple periwinkle, carpeting the earth.
Grateful for these gifts from a spontaneous evening field trip.