Natural Selection

I took Sabine on a junior hike the other day and it was fifty times cooler than I expected. I expected to come home with poison ivy, a rattlesnake bite and perhaps some cactus thorns sticking out of her knee, but instead little monster chased butterflies and dragonflies; quietly watched a creeping lizard; tortured tiny tadpoles; climbed rocks around a pond without falling in; and sang while marching in an empty riverbed.

This is splendid news because today we leave for a weekend camping trip to Malibu, where there will be nothing but the ocean, tide pools, sand castles to build, seashells to collect, canopies of Sycamore trees, and a trickling stream filled with rocks and twigs. No parks with playgrounds, no ice cream, no bikes or toys, no TV (but maybe an iPad) and no stores.

Whenever I'm outside, where there are no other people or cars or buildings, but just the greenest trees, the brightest flowers and a Crayola blue sky hemmed with craggy mountains that look like sculpture, I feel better. I feel like somehow my mom is watching Sabine and her heart is exploding with the same kind of fireworks that mine does every time I look at her; like she's right there and not without us in the same way that the sky is not without the ground and the trees aren't without branches. One thing gives way to another and they're permanently connected. And so are we--my mom, me and Sabine. Joined. For always.

Hope your weekend is beautifully outdoorsy. 

Images via Observando