When I was in grade school there were two boys who rode my school bus who sat at the back of the bus and talked loudly and used foul words that made me cringe.  I thought they were knuckleheads.  It didn’t stop me from taking my place at the back of the bus where I would verbally spar with them using words they didn’t know.  In fourth or fifth grade, I got a phone call from one saying the two of them wanted to come see me on Saturday.  I had absolutely no clue why they would want to come to my place, but after saying okay, I started planning our expedition.  A beautiful creek wound around our place in the foothills of the Blue Mountains.  It was my wilderness passage–from our long gravel driveway to the huge culvert that went under the Pennsylvania Turnpike and was large enough for us to ride our horses through.  The boys arrived that Saturday morning.  I stood in my rubber boots, saying we would explore the creek.  The beginning of the journey was easy and benign–the babbling creek with rocks and crayfish was picturesque and navigating it went smoothly.  As we ventured on, the way got more difficult–briars folded thickly over the sides of the creek.  One cannot barrel through such brambles without harm–it takes patience and skill to lift the thorny branches and scramble under them.  The boys started complaining and wondered why anyone would do this.  And I was in my element–each passage through the creek was an exploration of Nature’s wonders.  I told them all about the plants and creatures I knew about.  After more than an hour of leading the expedition, we arrived at the waterfalls–my favorite place.  Boulders built the four-foot high falls, and the water from the mountains cascaded over them into a deep, cold pool.  This was the reward for toiling up and down muddy banks, through the briars, and over the slippery rocks!  What a great morning!  The boys were tired and complaining and called their mom as soon as we got back home.  It was the only time they came to my place.

In the middle of April, my friend Ruth invited me to explore the islands in the Mississippi River below her house.  With our minimal snowfall and spring rain, the River was low enough to walk across rocks to get to the islands.  Our canine companion Coors was eager to investigate and happily ran ahead of us.

We discovered tracks and made tracks of our own in the mud.

Even the main channel of the River was low, and the water swirled around the sandbars poking through.

Walking the islands was like we were navigating a different world.  Tall trees, both standing and marooned, inhabited the island wilderness with no regard for the homes that lined the banks of the River on either side of it.

April is an exploration of Spring.  New discoveries unfold with each passing day.  Creatures of all kinds can be found at any given time.  I was surprised to find two squirrels and a rabbit eating together beneath the bird feeder.

When the sap was flowing from the drilled maple tree, I noticed the yellow-bellied sapsucker spending most of his day clinging to the tree, lapping up the sweet liquid.

On a walk one day, we found a tiny, penny-sized turtle alongside the road.

When we returned to the eagles’ nests, we discovered the first nest was empty.  Perhaps the eggs never hatched or the tiny eaglets didn’t make it for one reason or another.  At the second nest, we were surprised at how fast the two eaglets had grown in a month’s time!  They were nearly as large as the parents!  And still we spotted the papa eagle bringing food to the young ones.

The young eaglets were standing in the nest when I first got out of the car, but the mama must have told them to lie low when she saw me.  The one dark-feathered eaglet is to the left of the male with its head at the fork of the tree trunk, while the other one is behind the mama.

Early spring flowers trailblazed through April with color and magnificence–first bright forsythia, then elegant star magnolia and furry pasque flowers.

April snow and April rain unearthed Spring among days of sunshine and warmth.

Life is like my first photograph of the Viburnum tree–the present is unfolding right in front of us, grabbing our attention and our energy.  But there is so much more beyond the opening of the leaves or the expedition following the creek.  I never knew why those boys came to my house–perhaps one of them liked me.  We never talked about it again, but they seemed to have a new respect for me or maybe for all girls.  What lies beyond or behind the present?  The oak and cedar trees are an important backdrop to the viburnum–the woods are deep and wide with discoveries to be made.  My expedition up the creek had little to do with those boys and much to do with my past and my future.  We decide which tracks to follow and which tracks to make.  We navigate life like the River and the creek, watching out for sandbars, sometimes getting stuck, sometimes finding treasures.  And each year brings Renewal–often side by side with loss and pain.  From our nest of protection and sustenance, we are free to explore, grow, make new friends, and drink the sweetness of life.