Some Kind of WONDERful

I reminisce about the endless days of summer we cherished as children.

We were masters of balancing a busy social schedule. We would play an outdoor game called Around the House, see how high the backyard tree swing would go or have a contest of friends vs. friends at the baseball field across the lane from Mrs. Eldridge’s rugosa rose bushes.

Our curiosity would have us stop to count the spots on the back of a ladybug or look in on a tadpole or two. Perhaps, we remember so many of those moments because we were present.

Presence slowed time.

We embraced wonder. We were naturally ourselves. We didn’t resist weather changes or seasons; we adapted and saw opportunities in them.

Spring rain made puddles for splashing and high winds meant bread bag kites. The birds returned and the perennials in the neighbourhood gardens arrived. It was the time of year we began living a little more outdoors than in.

July and August included a little pool with cut grass from our feet floating on the surface. At the beach, we waited for the fog to burn off, then it was all sun and sandcastles. The first few minutes wading into the chilly Bay of Fundy was an adventure. The waves became our playground. The salt water and sand were worth all the grittiness that accompanied them.

Summers were for exploring every inch of our neighbourhood. This season also meant more visits to my Grandparents’ house, one of my favourite places in the world.

The colours of autumn made life look even more vibrant. I can smell russet apples and remember returning to school, happy to see my classmates. Soon the leaves would inevitably fall. The warm scent of the sun hitting the dried leaves invited me to linger. We couldn’t wait to jump into that first big pile of raked crispy goodness.

Winter became construction season. We made enormous snowmen, snow forts, and slippery slides. Stormy weather was for playing inside with the same imaginations that played outside. Our creativity was endless. As a youngster, I was excited to see the animated Santa Claus that stood in the window of the downtown hardware store. I always felt it was worth the trip especially if big fluffy snowflakes were falling.

Among my favourite memories are the bicycles belonging to neighbourhood friends. When they collected on the lawn, it meant something fun was about to happen. We were often together.

Seasons come and go and life gradually pulls our attention elsewhere.

 As adults, we have forgotten our natural way of looking at the world. We may catch glimpses here and there, but our day to day does not seem to hold the same awareness or excitement.

As I began noticing, and weaving the moments together, I realized that this beautiful earth is still here, right where we left it.

My inner self had been calling to me for a long time. One day, that old familiar little spark revealed itself once again.

I sat in silence for a while and thought, I wonder…