My boys (ages 3.5 and almost 2) eagerly hopped out of the car in search of treasures and a creek in which to throw rocks. We have been here before, so they knew the hike to the creek was not far, even on their little legs. It was not long before they began diving into the leaves left over from last fall, pushing said leaves around with sticks, pretending to vacuum the forest floor for its spring cleaning.
As their attention waned from the fallen leaves, the sound of the creek, Spring Creek, called from the distance. Young faces full of wonder and astonishment cried out, "Oh, wow!," and "Look, Mom.," as they gazed down the ridge at the water tripping and falling over the rocks below.
Making our way down to the creek to take in its beauty (and to throw rocks of course) we could hear the faint sound of a male partridge calling for his mate.
Alas, all grand adventures must come to their end. So with dirt under their nails, water in their boots, and a "Goodbye creek, see you soon," the boys hauled their treasures up the hill to the trail. Coming home with us today are a half-eaten acorn; a rock, smooth from the creek washing over and over; and a piece of birch bark fallen to ground after the winter's snow. Dad will love seeing the treasures and hearing about our time on the trails.
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