Growing up on Vancouver Island my boys are no strangers to what the wet and wild west coast has to offer. My oldest has gone through 3 pairs of rubber boots this winter already. Not outgrowing them, out using them! The rips in their jeans were not purchased rather earned through failed attempts to jump, run, bike or hop their way through the natural world.
I’m one of those people when you ask “whats your favourite time of year?” I’ll immediately say summer, no hesitation. I revel in the warmth of sunny days but in the middle of summer my heart yearns for a brisk fall day and in the middle of winter I look forward to the green of spring.
Spring seems the most alive season and wandering through the damp trails in the mornings is one of my favourite things to do. The foliage seems to sparkle and I’m mesmerized.
Yesterday we hiked along Oyster River trail leading to where the river meets the ocean. As we pulled in to park I heard my oldest mumble under his breath “not this one again.” Ignoring his unenthusiastic comment I bustled both boys out of the car and started on down the path. It’s been raining around here lately so the path was slick with mud and adorned with sporadic puddles perfect for encouraging smiles in even the most unimpressed 5 year old boy.
Here’s where the adventure begins. Instantly covered in mud from their toes to their noses the trail becomes a pirate’s ship, walking the planks of old fallen logs immediately turning them into super heros hiding behind fresh rain washed ferns onto pretend bows made from twigs to shoot pretend arrows at imaginative dinosaurs trembling the forest floor with every step. Once we reached the beach my head was spinning not sure if I was good, bad, ugly or being saved from something fierce.
A short reprieve came when I silently watched them struggle to build a driftwood fort attempting to carry logs 3-4 times the size of themselves. On the way back we stopped to marvel at the speed of the river flow and the newly sprung greenery all while hitting every single mud puddle possible.
Somedays it takes all my energy stepping out the front door with a wild 2 year old and a distracted, moody 5 year old. I frequently contemplate the life of a hermit but when you let everything go, everything, and just follow the little minds of these natural adventurers it’s a whole new world to see, to be in. One minute you’re far, far away and the next your smack dab in the range of the muddiest puddle splash.
The pictures, from my phone camera, don’t do it justice the green is so vivid and the contrasts and textures of nature so deep it needs to be explored in person. Open the door, step outside you won’t regret it.