Ginny and I went on a walk yesterday morning. Our destination was the creek. Ginny was really happy. While we walked she would smile her happiest smile. Sometimes she would walk ahead and other times I held her small hand. She had asked me during the week if we could do something alone together. She liked the idea of the simple walk. We walked to a big open grassy area. Ginny picked me some yellow flowers that were starting to close up, I guess, because the morning dew was going away and the warm Spring sun was taking its place. She also picked some greenish purple flowers that looked like they were going to turn into some type of grass or weed.

We then walked around by the backside of the creek. Some of it was littered with trash but other parts of it were pretty with mossy brown rocks and the greenery of Spring. We gathered a bunch of dandelions. We could toss them in the creek and watch the water wash them away. It took us about five minutes to get to the bridge where we would stop. The bridge is old and crudely built. When you walk under it, it looks like they used leftover building materials. But it has held together well enough. I sat down and put my feet over the side. I rested my arms on the round silver rail near my head. I like this part of the creek. I think it's pretty. They made a waterfall that is about 3 feet tall and there are the remains of an old bridge on each side of the waterfall. It reminds me of old ruins you may see in a place like ancient Greece. I need to take pictures of my children here again. About three feet away from the waterfall there is a "swimmin' hole". It's only about 6 feet in circumference and four feet deep. Dogs like to take a dip here. From the waterfall the water would fall in two different directions and in between was a big slab of gray stone which was mostly dry. When the two streams of water met again the water directions collided. Between the slab of dry gray stone and the waterways was an interesting area of water. I watched it. The water moved lightly. This would be my target area to toss in the dandelions. I showed it to Ginny. We both tried to throw our dandelions there. The big question in my mind was to see if the floating dandelions would remain in that spot a long time. If you took the long stems off they looked prettier as they floated on top of the water. I was hoping a bunch of them would congregate in the calm water. There was still too much water movement. They would stay a little bit and then gently head on down stream. Ginny and I then went to look at the creek from the other side of the bridge. The ten or fifteen dandelions we had tossed in had now made a trail. Their bright yellow color was randomly sprinkled on the top of the water until the creek curved around and you could no longer see them.

Ginny made sure I didn't toss the handful of flowers she gave me into the water. On the rest of the walk I clutched the small bouquet of God-grown flowers carefully in my hand just in case a "too small" stemmed flower would fall away. When we got back home I got our old brown syrup pitcher out of the cabinet. It sort of looked like a flower watering pot and we hardly ever use it anyway. The tiny bouquet and the tiny pitcher went nicely together. Especially being on display by the refrigerator where my little girl could see them so she would know that I was glad to get them.