atlas and i went for a hike that turned into an adventure!

when we turned off the gravel road and onto our trail, we found a puddle that still had ice around its edges. i took a shard of ice and wandered around, looking at bits of the world through my icy lens.

an evergreen. the sky. red berries. the sun.

when i was ready to turn away from my soft, muted, sparkling world, i offered the ice to atlas. he likes to eat ice and drink from puddles so it seemed like a double dose of pleasure.

when we left the trail and wandered into a field, we found a small grove of trees. they were dark grey and completely devoid of cover. aside from the rustle of dried leaves below our feet, the air was quiet and still and haunting.

just beyond the trees, there was a dark mound of something, so atlas and i went over to investigate.

the dark mound was felled trees. these trees looked like they had been pulled from the ground and loosely tossed into a pile. the tangled roots on the end of the nearest tree reminded me of an old man with a beard. i fully expected him to open his mouth and start speaking. (the old man wordlessly requested his privacy so there is no picture.)

when i looked to the left of the trees, i knew exactly what had happened. there was a large open pit in the ground. it was a giant sandbox!

atlas and i explored the sandbox for a while. it held rocks and sand and patches of snow and ice – and a tiny patch of flowers that resembled soft brown puffballs.

beyond the sandbox was a mountain, a mountain made of gravel. next to the gravel was a rusty turquoise excavator.

by this time, it was late afternoon, and dark comes early, so we turned toward the trail.

as we walked back, i watched the sentinels in the distance grow closer and closer and closer. it felt like they were circling us in protection and calling us home.

if growing up meant losing your ability to imagine, to play, to pretend, then i wouldn’t want to grow up at all.

fortunately for me, i know it doesn’t.