“There is always music amongst the trees in the garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it.”
Minnie Aumonier
We went for a gorgeous, fall walk in the forest and Fig had a spill. She tripped on a root and rolled, head-over-heels, in beautiful form. It looked choreographed, as though she was demonstrating the perfect tumble to a stunt class.
When she stopped moving she was flat on her back, arms open, looking straight up at a wise old maple tree. I didn’t think that she was hurt, so I didn’t rush to her, I simply observed her reaction. (Truth be told, I pulled out my camera.) At first she looked as though she might cry. She glanced at me, saw no evidence of panic on my face, then she looked up at the astonishing tree above her. This was a new perspective for her. The look of wonder on Fig’s face made me want to lie down in the leaves too. I used to do that a lot as a kid. Just lie down in the middle of Mother Nature and look up.
“Mama,” she called. I thought perhaps Fig might request some assistance.
“Yes Fig?”
“Tee,” she said.
“It’s a beautiful tree.” I agreed.
“Booful tee,” and she took it all in. A moment later she was on her feet again, merrily toddling down the forest path.
