"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.
Tiptoe lightly.
They are fragile my son.
Let your eyes gaze upon them.
Look in places you might not see at first.
For they are there.
Living.
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.
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