We spent this past Tuesday morning at The Wilderness Center, a favorite hangout, doing a program for kids (and those who have them) about insects. Armed with sweep nets and bug boxes, we headed outside to collect bugs.
I learned about many things, including a little tidbit about spit bugs. You know, those bugs that create a little blob of spit like stuff on branches to hide in? Found out that they should actually be called "diarrhea bugs" because that's the end they make the bubbles with. Save THAT one for your next friendly conversation!
In any case, after collecting the bugs, we brought them back to feed to the resident box turtle, the only turtle in Ohio that can completely pull in its arms and leg. Incidentally, this is a rescued turtle who is missing a leg.
And sure, it was fun enough for the big kids. Flower girl was a bit fearful of touching the turtle, but she gave in. Scout was all over the thing. But it was the little one, who has yet to earn her name (I'm leaning towards Rocks because of her love of hematite, but more on that later) that showed unbridled enthusaism. I'm talking loud and violent enthusiasm. Screaming and clapping, arm waving, foot stomping. All for the love of this 3 legged turtle who is slurping up worms and other slow bugs that we showered him with.
For me, it was just another one of those moments, the kind that makes me stop in my tracks and think about what really matters. Shopping lists, laundry baskets, vacuum cleaners, neglected blogs. They don't matter. It was that moment, that very moment, of pure innocence and fascination with that turtle that really makes the world go round.
Not that I'd ever get a pet turtle, but I can tell I've really been blessed with a child with a love of nature. Truly blessed.
Bright lights, bright mornings…? - I’m not going to lie. I get really crabby in the winter. My family quietly urges me to seek sunlight, drink joyous teas, meditate, sing, eat, dance, and...