On my way home this evening I bumped into my neighbour's son hanging about on the corner. He's about 9 or 10, I guess. We admired another neighbour's sports car as he drove past.
'Are you off to play football?'
'Nah, it's been cancelled. Too wet. But, my pal's coming to meet me. Look what I've got....'
He held out his hands and giggled. He had managed to craft two small balls from the last of the grubby urban snow.
Kids play. Even when it's cold, damp and a bit miserable, they find the opportunity for investigation, adventure and fun. I love their determination and ingenuity. Us grown ups ought to play a little more often too, we might enjoy it.
I hope his aim was good.
So true--as a kid I spent all day in the woods, easily, and it was a balm for everything. Now, after an hour or so I'm through with it. As an adult it is sometimes difficult to tune into that "sense of wonder" as Rachel Carson called it.
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