My Visitor

Yesterday I had a visitor... a small 4 year old boy who was allowed to roam (staying within hearing distance) and explore. He was shy, so we didn't have much one-on-one exchange, but it was great fun to be aware of him over about four hours. The creek drew him, as it does me. He sat on the bridge, peering over the railing, legs dangling over the edge, for long stretches of time.

I would love to have been inside his head while he was sitting on the bridge. I can picture all sorts of things he may have imagined... the huge nessies lying hidden in the shallow waters, the wonderment of far-away adventure as he watched the leaves he threw on the waters slowly bobbling downstream...

My fearless hunter (Siamese cat) brought up a small garden snake, nearly dead. The boy wasn't frightened at all, just curious. He had the same look of curiosity when he peered into a flower blossom he picked, as if wondering what was in there, or maybe what it was all about...

Too often I forget/neglect to take/make time for wonderment at the natural world we inhabit, to see it as a small child might, or as an adult should. Why do we misplace that enjoyment as the years pass? There is something so serene and peaceful in that still, small place... mesmerized by the swimming minnows in the creek, enchanted by a daddy-longlegs climbing a nearby tree...

I cannot remember the last time I laid down in the yard late on a clear moonless night looking up at the stars. I do remember that awesome immensity, coming from city lights to a remote camping site, and actually seeing the zillions of stars surrounding my world, sparkling in the darkness, and feeling so small and insignificant... and strangely, peaceful and invigorated. Gives my skin a tingly feeling just to remember...