With a spring in our step, we hopped over mud puddles, the only sign of wintertime. I crouched low to take pictures of purple flowers blooming plentifully against a rusty gate.
On the outside, the stone was white and chalky. Rubbing the rock brought back memories of erasing the blackboard with my hands as a child. The white stone simply dissolved into a cloud of dust at the touch.
I was sure we had missed a photo-op as we lazed away in the shadows, but the cows just kept on coming. One after another, they made their way through the trees.
The diminutive wildflowers of summer poked through our carpet of pine needles. Out came the coffee. Our border collie started up a game of pine cone fetch.
My kids took turns executing running jumps from the top of the high dunes, knowing that they would land in the soft sand below. They trudged slowly up the sand hill, then ran down as fast as momentum could carry them.