It was Phoenie’s first time out in the rain. He (little Phoenie, not Chris…but then again, why NOT Chris?) was fascinating with the water coming out of our neighbour’s downspout. He squatted into a little ball and grunted with delight, like a baby bear, as the water came splashing down. Phoenie’s world had just gotten bigger. Hand in hand, Papak and Phoenie strolled up and down the sidewalk, taking time to stamp their feet through every puddle and to examine every earthworm that had wriggled its way out of the floods.
That was a few years ago. Fast forward to this morning. It was a big day at school. Phoenie was taking part in his first Science Fair. His lima bean didn’t break the soil surface fast enough to watch it grow towards the sun so last night, he and his mom had to resort to Plan B. Magic Mud is the official name of a curious suspension of cornstarch and water but over the phone, Phoenie described it to us as “blue quicksand.” There was such excitement in his voice as he verbalized his qualitative observations.
“I can put my whole hand into it …or a baby’s arm!”
I’m interested in how his teacher responds to that scientific description.
Chris and I have watched Phoenie discover raccoon skulls and railroad spikes, shot gun shells and washed up fishing huts, duck hunters and animal tracks on the ice. I think it has given us the opportunity to re-discover.
There has to be peace within to see with out. You just can’t enjoy the first tulip breaking through in your garden or the coolness of a dog’s nose when your head is spinning or your heart is heavy. You can’t be in a hurry.
Chris and I are taking a little road trip to Sudbury today. There isn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun is setting right before our eyes. We’ve seen a lone fishing hut on a frozen river and huge icicles cascading from the rocks that line this highway. Such beauty to behold.
“There is not the tiniest corner of the world that isn’t packed with interest. Boredom is less a matter of what’s going on around us than what’s happening, or not happening, inside. Janie B. Cheaney, World Magazine