"Walk with me through this field, look gently, walk gently, gazing at the earth. For under each branch, for under each fern, for under the earth, we will see it. The tiny dancers. The tiny umbrellas. They are there. Walk slowly now. Gaze. You will see. Breathe in their beauty. Take a glance. Maybe not touch. For they are here. They stand tall in this busy world. They offer a mystical birth of winter. They are here.
They are fragile my son.
Let your eyes gaze upon them.
Look in places you might not see at first.
For they are there.
Waiting for you to bestow upon them your visions. Your dreams. Your fantasy. Tell the story. "
To dream. To wander. To enter yourself into the mind of a child. The richness of the unknown. The beauty of innocence. It takes you places you haven't felt since you yourself walked on a winter's day. Exploring the Earth with your hands. Discovering. Fantasizing.
Developing stories. Enchanting our child's mind.
Thank you Mother Nature for all your tiny beauties and the ability to tiptoe lightly with my son.