Snapshot

I want to take a snapshot of exactly how you are right now. I want to carry it with me always to remind me of this time. This time when you were mine, only mine. A time before you belonged to the world of school, friends and teachers. A time when I was the center of your world and you were the center of mine. A time before you have to share me with Turtle, a brother, an unknown. A time when it was just the two of us.

In my snapshot there will be a sunny, warm day. There will be a playground full of children laughing, shouting, running and playing. But my snapshot will not focus on that action, instead we will be a few yards away. We will be under the shade of two large burr oak trees. The sunlight will filter through the trees, dancing on the ground as the wind blows the leaves above.

We will stand there you and I, together. We are apart from the action and the chaos of the playground because we have a greater purpose. There is work to be done. There are things to discover. There is nature to explore.

In my snapshot, you will be crouched above the ground, reaching down, examining what nature has to offer. I will stand nearby with my hand stretched out, waiting. Occasionally you will turn to me with a new discovery, a leaf, an acorn, the whole world. You will place it in my outstretched hand for safe keeping. You know that I will hold your treasure as dear as I hold you.

You find an acorn cap from the burr oak, you turn to me and exclaim "Momma, this is an acorn pail just like mouse had in Bear Wants More." For a moment, I am stunned that you can remember such a small detail but then I realize that is who you are. You remember things.

We talk about how we can't take all the acorns. We have to save some for the squirrels and chippers. I tell you how they will collect the acorns and other seeds and they will store them for winter. You pause for just a moment, letting this information sink in, thinking. Then you grab some sticks and leaves. You bend over, close to the ground, working furiously. You turn and gather some acorns, And then you turn back to your work. You step back to survey your work. You make a few final adjustments. You stand up with a satisfied look in your face and say "Momma, I made an acorn house for the squirrels." And it is perfect.

Full of your accomplishment, you move on. You exclaim with delight when you find a lady bug. You pick it up, letting it crawl on your hand. You hold on to it, not wanting it to get away. For a moment, I cringe. I don't want you to love this bug too much, until there is nothing left. But you don't. You know better. Holding the bug in one hand, you grab acorn caps with the other. You place the lady bug in a cap and cover it with another cap, building a cage, a home for the bug. You carry that home with you for the rest of our adventure, occasionally opening it to check on him. Placing a blade of grass in the house so he has something to eat. You care so much about this little lady bug, you want to make sure he is safe.

When my hands are too full of treasures, it is time to go. You find some soft leaves. You gather them into a pile. You open the lady bug house and you place him gently on the leaves. You try to remember the rhyme "lady bug, lady bug fly away home" but you forget how it goes. But it doesn't matter, you make up your own version and it fits, perfectly.

On the way to the car, we find another acorn. You pick it up to examine it. You hold it up for me to see. "Momma, this acorn is different. Its from a white oak." Of course it is. And it comes home with the rest of our treasures.

This is how I see you, so excited about the world and all of the mysteries it holds. You can't wait to learn. You want to know everything. You want to know it right now.

I want to capture this moment. I want to place it in a locket around my neck, and wear it next to my heart. You are wonderful now. You are perfect. You are 3 1/2. You are ancient. You are timeless. You are my daughter and I love you.

Nature Girl

I've come to the realization that I am going to have to learn to love camping and fishing and general outdoorsiness.

Now I've been camping and fishing when I was younger. I liked sleeping in tents, it was an adventure. Except when it rained and the tent leaked. I've been fishing and had fun. Until I had to touch a fish, then it wasn't so fun. I like hiking. (Shut up Sonja, I do too.) Well I guess I should qualify that as I like hiking on our nice rolling glacial trails in Wisconsin not on suicidal mountain missions in the Rockies and the Adirondacks that my friends like to drag me on.

So I like nature. I have an appreciation for its beauty. Its just that if I am going on vacation, I would much rather stay in a city. A city with museums and restaraunts and shops. And hotels. Hotels with spas and room service if possible.

But my daughter is a nature girl at heart. She loves animals and bugs and dirt. And she would love to be as close as humanly possible to those things. When I am out gardening, she follows behind me looking for worms to play with. She makes leaf sandwiches for the ants to eat. She loves scampering along trails looking for chipmunks, squirrels and birds.



If she knew that you could go to the woods, sleep in a tent and be surrounded by nature, she would demand we go at once. Who cares about pillows and nice comfy beds when you can see animals and bugs?

So this summer we'll be taking small steps. Visiting nature centers, farms and lakes. We'll experiment, we'll get dirty, we'll get our feet wet. And hopefully I'll learn to love it as much as she does.

Queen of the Explorers

Two intrepid explorers set forth from Fort Wauwatosa to brave the wilds of the Menomonee River. They were lead by Bunny, the Queen of Explorers, who has spent many months honing her skills by tracking the movements of some sly dinosaurs.


They were in search of the wildest of wildlife. The cricket, the chipmunk and the duck, oh my.


They could hear the crickets chirping but could not find the elusive insect. All attempts to find him in the tall grass were foiled by this wiley bug.


They searched high and low and found the entrance to the chipmunk's kingdom. But alas, they were denied a glimpse of the royal rodent.


They made one final, futile attempt to find some, any wildlife. They brought out the bread hoping in vain that they could coax a shy duck out of hiding with the promise of food. But the duck would not cooperate.


Bunny, Queen of the Explorers, was tired and ready for a nap. But she did not give up hope that she would find her quarry. She vowed to return to the Menomonee River wilderness another day.