Two days ago I realized that it was time to plant the pole beans, yet I had no "poles". So in a burst of use-what-I-have inspiration, I rounded up the kids and told them we were going stick collecting. The small wooded patch (about 3 acres) behind our house (and behind the tall-grass field) is actually an old tree farm, so the trees are in rows and arranged by type. The ground beneath the river birch trees is simply littered with tall, straight limbs that the goats have broken off while trying to reach the higher leaves.
We are really quite grateful to them for clearing out all the underbrush and providing us with plenty of adventuring and picnicking areas.
The beautiful spring day had Tim, our miniature horse and self-appointed goat-herd leader, kicking up his heals and running through the trees like something from Chincoteague. He is still sporting his winter shag but summer will see him slick and quite a bit grayer in color.
After we collected the needed large sticks for the beans to climb, each child chose an all important "walking stick" for the hike home.
I love spring.
