We've been enjoying the first rainy spring in what feels like quite a while. Everything is beautifully green and the season feels like it's just taking it's time in getting to summer. We're especially excited to see the ponds and streams fill back up after last year's drought. We've spent some good time at ponds, but hadn't had a chance to visit the Concord River in a while; today, on the way home from the feed store, we remedied that.
As expected, the water was high. The boys delightedly pointed out that our picnic spot last time was under at least two feet of water, and marveled at how many trees were awash.
The air was chilly and the water downright frigid, so no one was tempted to wade. But not to worry, we found plenty of other entertainments.
But of course the most interesting thing was the water—or, really, the intersection between water and land. The boys explored the marshy field where a tongue of the river had invaded, and we squished along damp paths that ended abruptly in lapping water (along the way we got a lot of practice identifying the baby leaves of just-awakening poison ivy). Nobody got wet, nobody froze to death, nobody fell too hard from the tree, and I got shot about four thousand times by three minutemen with rapid-fire repeating muskets. It was a lovely outing.