I have many childhood memories of making boats out of leaves and sticks and floating them down streams and ditches or setting them off to sea in the rocky waters of Puget Sound. Yesterday we celebrated the sun by walking down to the Ravenna trails and playing in the creek. Have you ever spent the afternoon watching water sparkle beneath a spring sun, the kind of northwest rays that are lemony and transparent and filter through leaves in the most gentle of ways? And then looked at the entire scene and wondered what it was like to look at it for the first time ever in your life? I don't think I'll ever stop getting all choked up and amazed when I see the curiosity and excitement on Cora's face when she sees something for the first time.
"Wa-wa!" she shrieked, pointing at the creek.
"Yes, it's water. It's a creek! Let's make boats and float them in the water!"
"Wa-wa!" she shrieked again, just to make sure I heard her. "Wa-wa!"
"Yes, water! Let's make boats!"
While I was desperately excited about reliving childhood memories, I think it's safe to say that Cora could have stood at the little wooden fence and peered over for upwards of an hour, staring at the water dance merrily through the canyon and rustle under trees and leaves. I ended up coaxing her toward the water's edge with a variety of items in my hands: branch bits, rocks, cedar boughs, and dried leaves. We stood on a tiny bridge and crouched low to the ground, sometimes lying on our bellies and looking over, while we dropped items into the water below, waving bye-bye to each one as it was pulled away. She was smitten. I was transported to carefree days alone and free, or with a friend or my dog or my sister, wandering through the day with my heart high in my chest and a thousand new discoveries around the bend. I remember great efforts going into the making of boats, searching for the perfect flat branch and broad leaf, then sending it off with a pine cone sailor and my blessings for safe travels.
The Ravenna trails have been so well renovated in the past few years that they are truly an outdoorsy paradise in the midst of a relatively urban circle of neighborhoods. We ended up climbing a new trail out of the canyon and managed to arrive in one piece. Remind me not to try to carry a small child in my arms while pulling a too-heavy stroller and climbing exceedingly steep, muddy paths. I had hilarious visions of being that sad little headline in the local news: Mom and Child In Critical Condition After Hiking Local Hill. We were rewarded with such a sweet little patch of neighborhood streets, though, that it was well worth the trip. I wandered through the quietest, most lovely little spot in Seattle and ended up at the end of a dead-end street where I found a rope swing jerry-rigged over the canyon. Oh, the memories! You must have them, too--there are few children who can't remember one or more blood-curdling journeys high in the sky, the world dropping away while friends cheer in the background. I had half a mind to park Cora on the curb and take a few flights myself.
At the end of the day, I told B that if we lived in a slightly more welcoming climate, I'm not sure Cora and I would ever be inside. I think we would just fill our backpacks with snacks and head out on long adventures, coming back for naps and necessary toddler rejuvenation. I truly can't think of a better way to live than to be outside all day, breathing fresh air and dipping fingers in cool, clear water. We spent all day yesterday singing our praises of spring, looking at crocuses and daffodils and green moss and willow tree buds. It made me wish for the farm house in the woods that I dream about nearly every day...on acreage, surrounded by creek beds and birds and gardens, with a playhouse and a giant garden, and a ton of kids circling the lawn and shrieking at the top of their lungs. I continue to have an escapist obsession with Vashon Island and northern California, both, and can get all woozy and weepy with my vision of our lives in either place.
As an aside, I wish I had a picture to post of the trails. I've decided my blog looks really naked. I'm going to make an effort to add pictures, which will be a fun addition to the process. Maybe I'll even come out of the closet a bit more and post a picture of myself, or even send my blog to more people. I've been relatively anonymous about the whole thing, but have been thinking it would be fun to share these silly days and anecdotes with more people.
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