The beauty of nature

Over the last couple of months, we have taken the time to share with our boys the beauty of nature. They are always outside making some valiant attempt to be at one with their environment. Whether it’s digging in the dirt, eating the dirt, or taking full blown baths in the mud they created from their dirt, it seems-at least in a mother’s mind-they could use a little guidance.

With the off season comes a little free time for Dad, and a true, concerted effort on our part to keep the boys interested in being kids. And that means playing, exploring, and of course, getting dirty. We made a day trip to the Wichita Mountains, spent several days walking the creek at Mamaw and Papaw’s and even braved an overnight camping expedition, indoor plumbing excluded. It was quite an adventure. But the experiences our boys added to their future memories of childhood far outweighed every rock to the shin and scratch from a tree branch we endured.

There’s nothing like a couple of boys seeing their first big buffalo to bring to life the closest thing they’ll ever see in the wild to the huge furry mammoth of Ice Age. And after their first viewing of Bambi, it couldn’t be more fitting for a huge, 10-point buck to be crossing the meadow in front of our car with two beautiful does and a little Bambino following close behind.

Little children are so easily entertained. They appreciate the smallest of gestures and the cheapest pursuits of amusement. There’s no need for trips to Disney or vacations to the moon when a drive through Prairie Dog Town will bring the smiles and laughter of two satisfied little boys. “I can’t believe they want to eat our pretzels!” Brisco shouted in disbelief.

I watched as my boys learned valuable lessons from their daddy and their Uncle Ryan-lessons I had to learn from Tom Hanks in a movie or that I leaned right along with them for the very first time. Like why we dig a hole underneath our camp fire or how to fry eggs and biscuits without a stove top to cook on.

I watched as my boys ran around the campsite, thrilled by the simplicity of shining their own flashlight into the dark night. I smiled as they sat side by side with their dad, imitating his movements, whittling a fallen tree branch with their white, plastic knives.

I watched their Daddy reliving his own childhood memories by climbing trees and jumping the creek, while the boys watched in awe and tried desperately to walk in his footsteps, following his every move. From skipping rocks on the water to “steaming” marshmallows on the fire, there’s little that compares to an adventure with dad and learning to be at one with nature.

We walked the rows of freshly planted wheat and answered questions about planting and harvesting and electric fences. We became explorers as we searched for deer tracks and “man tracks” and were overjoyed to find that “baseballs”, big and yellow, were also a part of God’s creation, although to me they seemed strangely similar to a gourd.

We all were taken aback as we climbed a steep hill of trees and brush and found ourselves face to face with a bull snake, just soaking up the sun.

And just this past weekend, as we celebrated Thanksgiving, we were totally immersed in the beauty of nature-maybe further than any man, woman or two-year old child needs to be, in my opinion-as we watched a mother cow give birth.

There is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for the boys God gave us-dirt, snot, slobber and all. Above that, I’m grateful for the father they have to look up to. There are many gifts a mother can give her sons, but the best gift in my mind is that of a firm, fun-loving and faithful father. Just one more way God allows the beauty of nature to come full circle, creating precious childhood memories that will last a lifetime.

And that’s All in a day’s work!