arboretum crazy time

a sunny saturday morning visit to madison's arboretum has always been a favorite activity, no matter what season. winter is our favorite because the cross country skiing is so peaceful and serene, the snow so white and deep. it's just you, the trails, and the deer. spring is green and exciting, and you can listen to the happy sounds of returning birds. summer is a nice time for a stroll around the gardens and through the shaded woods. fall is gorgeous, always, for the leaves and the crisp air and the busy squirrels. leaves crunch beneath your feet, and you feel lucky for just one more day of warm sunshine before the weather turns too cold. these memories of the arboretum all share one common factor: peace, silence.

peaceful silent strolls in the arboretum may now be a thing of the past, as we learned this weekend. we took ramona to the arboretum, and at 20 months she is less inclined to passively rest in her backpack as we hike, and is more inclined to wildly rush about, babbling in rapid-fire toddler word-salad, and try to find animals. i wonder how many other peaceful silent strolls through the arboretum were disrupted by my spirited child this weekend.

things started on a very peaceful note: ramona was happy and snug in her backpack, and we had an opportunity to marvel at fall's beautiful leaves and cattails.



then she needed a snack, so cheerios it was. when the inevitable cheerio spill happened, she worried about how to pick them all up, who would eat them, where we should put the garbage, and whether some woodland animals might like them. which lead to a hunt for animals that mostly involved ramona calling out "animal! animal!" into the trees.


surprisingly, none came to the call. we had to get low, peeking through the trees, to see what could be making those distinctly animal noises in the leaves and underbrush.

then, pine cones. lots of pine cones. shouting about pine cones.

the visit included a little trail running. ramona suddenly got into her starting position and asked for a "mark, set, go" countdown, and began a long series of trail sprints with her father.

i'd love to capture just a fraction of her exuberance, enthusiasm, and energy and use it myself. but i cannot. what i can do is try very hard to remember always these perfect, and perfectly crazy, moments.