Words are funny things, wiley creatures, slippery and shimmery. One makes time. Surely not. And yet…
Commonly on business trips, I do not make time. My usual work doesn’t stop its demands when the work on site adds its needs to the clamor of the day. And so I retire to my hotel in the evenings with my takeout and my laptop until past my bedtime.
Not this time.
My children, I realized, do not know that a darkened forest tunnel will feel cooler, the air lighter, than the meadow they just exited. They haven’t learned the precise angle that is safe to traverse down a rooted path to a creek bed without tumbling. They don’t know that the quiet one walks, the more one sees.
I have my work cut out for me making more time for the important lessons of childhood.
plumdirt 
Important thoughts to go with those beautiful photographs. You are on a good path
Thank you. One step at a time.
Lovely post. Our children are outside all day every day. It’s the best kind of childhood. Such wonderful photos.
Mine do as well, in our backyard. It’s so different than the childhood I had traipsing about the land around my parents’ home. Children are often so much happier outside than in.