On Wednesday we went to Brookfield Orchards; they have a nice size sandbox, dozens of Tonka Trucks, sturdy baby swings and a merry-go-round.
Its usually pretty quiet (I’d like them to get a bit sturdier on their feet before they get muscled by older kids...)
Another plus plus?
They have fresh apple dumplings.
Henry and Sophia haven’t been in swings since early last Fall; they’ve never been in a sandbox. And a merry-go-round?!
I tried to photograph as much as I could and still provide sizeable, healthy pushes, pulls...
However, I failed to capture Henry watching the mini-Caterpillar clear away some of the trimmed apple wood (Henry is, through-and-through – a boy. I expect one of his new words to be t-r-u-c-k spoken, of course, with a deep-manly-voice).
He ooh-ed. Ahh-ed. And waved at the driver.
The two hours we spent there inspired me to meditate on how my children are just like apple trees. The trees themselves provided a metaphoric backdrop and a nice place to contemplate on the upcoming Spring.
They’re a little awkward, unsure, of few words but filled with so much mystery, power and promise. They grunt, groan, thrill in the breeze, speak in sign, need to be watched carefully for subtle change.
They dance to their own tune, laugh with each other in a language only they understand.
And for some strange reason, refuse to eat apple dumpling with me.