We are officially into autumn, or as I need to re-learn, fall. A major storm came through over the weekend, flooding our sun room, and bringing with it slightly cooler temperatures. Don't misunderstand me, it's still Texas, and it's still hot-as, but first thing in the morning, and late at night, you can step outside without feeling like you've been bear-hugged by a moist bear wearing polar fleece. That's something, eh?
There was a week at the end of the summer holidays when Finch started school but Small Sun and Sprout had one more week at home. We turned out of doors for a walk one morning, when the walls were caving in. We were actually on our way home when we spotted a ditch full of water, full of tadpoles. We fetched a large pickle jar I found in the garage, and a tadpole collecting party commenced.
I read yesterday about a writer who takes a moment to write the best moment from her day on a small piece of paper before dropping it into a jar. It may have been a beautiful ray of sunshine, or a shared laugh, a small treasure to keep forever.
I keep going back to the joy of our tadpole party. The greenness of the grass, the long lying shadows of the trees, the reflection off the water, the dog twitching with desire to eat every squirrel in sight, my children returning home, triumphant and fulfilled, with their "babies".
Here is my scrap of paper and my jar, I'm popping this one in.
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