Do you remember these kiddos. You certainly have seen a great deal of them over the past nine years, but this, this was that first year. The first time a new generation of children discovered your rocky shore.
The first time to be excited by a bowl of rocks, a bobber that could be tossed and reeled in over and over, a so tiny fishy.
Do you remember my contemplative meanderings? How grateful I was to having something right out my door that provided hours of exciting entertainment.
How I wondered when life would get so crowded with friends, video games, baseball games, life, that your babbling stream would no longer call to them, would stop being such a delight. How each year brought such obvious developmental milestones- slippery rocks managed without Gramerly's hand,
and oh, my, holding a crawdad all by yourself.
Was that a humorous gurrgle I heard when you noticed that creek boots weren't meant to used quite this way?
Or when adults discovered they might still need a hand to hold?
Did their discoveries delight you as they have me?
Were you as surprised as me to turn around and find them growing so fast?
And, oh the songs we've sung, and the stories I've told about you, and the many trips they've taken in their imagination, down this creek to the Ohio, then on to the Muddy Mississip, which of course required a rendition of "Look Out for Me, Ol' Muddy Water."
Do you have memories of natives of old who might have paddled down this creek?
And that Grumpy Ol' Troll still lives here. I hope he hasn't bothered you much.
And here we are, nine years down the road, and you've changed as well. Each season brings a bit of a twist in the rocks and the shoreline, but the joy continues.
Do you ever wonder, like me, if your seeing double? Isn't this the same little boy in that first picture?
No, Bean is big guy now, and he is showing you off to the wee one, who might just live down here if we pitched him a tent.
So, as with all my dear friends, I thank the Lord for you, and pray we have many more sunshine and laughter filled days of discovery.
Love one grateful Gramerly