Float To The Sea

Sunday dawned and it was bright! Weather to walk in! After breakfast we put on our coats and set off for the park.we had not walked long before I realised just how cold it was,it may have been blue sky bright but the wind was icy,I was glad we had wrapped up well and I hoped the walk and play would warm us up.

The park wasn't wet,well the equipment was not wet but it was damp and on the first slide Chips came to he just stuck halfway down. The climbing frame was a bit dodgy to climb on as it was slippery and the swings took a bit too much effort to work up,so we headed to the river.

The water levels of the river were up and it was flowing at quite a pace. We clambered over the rocks and made our way upstream to where there was some benches,once there we sat and had a drink and a snack - a winters picnic. A winters picnic is different to a summery picnic,you have to be wrapped up warmly to enjoy a winters picnic and you huddle together but it's still good and still special.

Once the picnic had gone Chips went on a stone search and had a great time throwing any stone that he could find into the river and making the biggest splash that he could. There was not many,or even any stones left by the time Chips had finished rooting around. His gloves were grubby and muddy and he looked like little children should look,pink cheeked and a little bit dirty. In my books there are two kinds of dirt - good dirt and bad dirt. This was good dirt,the sort of dirt that you get from playing outside and being a child and not particularly caring about how dirty you are going to get by messing around with sticks and stones and climbing walls and splashing near rivers. This kind of dirt is easily solved by a quick dip in the shower and the muddy clothes being put in a washing machine - sorted. Everything clean once more and a child that has played...to me there is nothing better than a child who has played.

It was getting bitterly cold,so we decided to have a stick race and then head on home. We found two biggish sticks and we took them right to the beginning of the river,to the count of one,two,three the sticks were thrown into the bubbling river and off they floated. We never saw them again. The river was much faster than us and try as we might,we never caught up with those sticks again.

As we walked home we talked about where we thought the sticks would go and we decided that they would definitely make it to the sea. We plotted the route they would take and estimated how long it would take them to get there. Sticks that lay under trees,now having their biggest adventure yet,floating past villages and under bridges,joining up with bigger rivers until they reached the big open sea,what an adventure.

It was two weary but happy people who returned back home that afternoon. Full of tales about parks and rocks and stones and flapjack and sticks.