262. Springfield: Forest Park

When I got there, the nature class was already underway. I watched from afar for a while.

I'm no longer in a position to truly care whether or not school is in session. I've been out for twenty years, and my mom, a longtime French and Spanish teacher, retired in the spring. My son is only 2, so we haven't even gone lunchbox shopping yet. And I'll tell you one thing. He's not getting my Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox.

But there it was, a field trip. Our biggee back home on the South Shore was Plimoth Plantation, in the third grade. For these kids, though, there was a bit more hands-on work to be done. They had nets and were standing on the edge of the major pond that dominates Forest Park.

I never saw one swung in anger, though, They milled about, the girls giggling, the boys conniving. There were most likely dragonflies or butterflies about, or perhaps they were heading for some ponding exercises. I'll never know. I steered very wide of the log cabin style nature center they were using, although I wanted desperately to know more about it, architecture geek that I can be at times. Instead, I settled for the mallards and the Canada geese, and the fountains spraying water skyward. And hey, look at that - the rain had stopped again.

What a day.