Tuesday, August 24, 2010
A Sunday walk
A few weeks ago we had a fantastic Sunday walk and I have been meaning to tell the world about it for some time. You see, Chris had found this fantastic and large park that had a fishing pond, trails and play ground. We had been searching for a good one near us for some time so it was a big deal that one had finally surfaced so we anxiously bundled ourselves in the car and were off.
That day the sky was blue, sun shining visible rays between the billowy clouds and there was a soft, moist breeze wafting through the car windows. At first I thought that it was the movement of the car that made that air seem cooler, and wetter and the clouds darker and the beautiful sunrays sparser. We were scarcely a few miles from our sunny driveway when the rain hit, it was like someone had sprayed a hose directly into the windshield. A few more miles of careful driving later we arrived at a beautiful, soggy pond (which is an impressive state, since ponds are wet by nature).
After long debate, driving half the way home and turning back again we sat there, in the parking lot, waiting for the rain to stop. We were hoping that we would, in fact, get to trot around the pond and the lush forestation around and behind it if we just waited around long enough for the rain to pass. There we sat, noses pressed against the window like little kids peaking into a candy store. We eventually decided a little rain never hurt anyone, it's not like it was cold rain or anything. Chris strapped Parker to his chest and I tucked Lyra onto mine and off we went.
The park was beautiful and the rain was more of a drizzle. We slogged around in the mud, slurping from one firm-ish piece of grassy mud to another as we watched some of the more determined young fishers cast their hooks back into the pond. Chris shook a series of branches over my head till, drizzle or no, Lyra and I were soaked. Don't worry, though, we got Daddy and Parker back and ran away over a slick grassy path before he could retaliate. It makes me chuckle sometimes, imagining what we must have looked like; two wet adults with kicking and laughing toddlers strapped to their fronts chasing each other in the forest like impish flirts. We followed trails and threw pinecones in other ponds we found, watched leaves race down swollen streams and rinsed our feet in warm, clear puddles. The clouds had diffused the light so that everything had a soft, rich glow to it. I love Houston during the storms that pass through here.
As we were heading in, Parker started jumping and waving: he had just discovered the many birds flocking on the soccer field. Chris trotted over and raced through a thick grouping of birds to the chortling of Paker's excited screams. Not to be out done, I turned to the ducks that were not far off and Lyra, too, became animated and excited. I followed a few of the bigger geese, as they seemed more exciting to her, right up until the thing started hissing at us. I realized Lyra was strapped to my front and would probably get her sweet little feet nipped long before the thing got to me. I was so mad I was ready to kick it's hissing beak face into the beautiful mud; how dare that goose pose a threat to Lyra! But I would have to save the goose thrashing for later, Lyra's feet were still dangling and the goose was now charging so I snatched them up and skipped out of range quickly. It was my fault, but I was still surprised how mad I had been at a silly goose.
Chris took my hand in his big warm grasp and it was only then that I realized how cool it had become. I wrapped an extra arm around Lyra's front and pulled her closer to ensure that she was still warm, then walked a little closer to Chris. The muffled quiet was made particularly cozy by the sound of the trees shaking the last of the rain from their branches. The smell of clean fresh bark accompanied us as we headed back towards the car. What a lovely Sunday jaunt it had been.
We arrived at the car, threw on the heat and drove home, tired and happy, the babies cheerily munching on teddy grams, Chris smiling in the rear view mirror at his two beautiful kids, and me thoughtfully considering the best goose mangling technique.