even though it’s dead it can look like it’s taken care of.
and if it can dry out we can take it inside.

a gaggle of kids exploring freely enjoying sun after a late april snow. we have our playground with wonderful metal and plastic sculptures, but what was noticed were the beloved dirt piles in the lot next door, the fire pit left from a church celebration, the field of dandelions, the grape hyacinths popping up all over, evidence of wildlife, mud from the melted snow, a sky that was “mostly blue with just a little bit of white.”

i settled at the delight and care in picking flowers, collecting sticks, making mud balls, running up and down the same piles over and over. i liked hearing the children claim the space around them.

heard:

we never need crayons again!  we have burnt wood to write with.

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it’s like i’m picking a whole rainbow!

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if we rub sticks together for a long, long time we WILL make fire.
i’ve never seen it happen, but i know it does.

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these are the most beautiful flowers ever.

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this is from the dead bunny. the bunny died because another animal had to eat.

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we don’t need playdough. we have mud.