Ducks, goats, peacocks and turtles.

Every time there is a change of seasons, I am flooded with nostalgic memories of my favourite elements of that season. I'll list a few examples. Summer: the smell of hot pavement drenched by a sudden summer rain. Fall: wading through piles of wet, pungent leaves on my way across my elementary schoolyard. Winter: savouring a steaming bowl of homemade soup after walking home from school in an icy rain. Spring: those cloudy days when the sky is grey but the grass is lush and there are cherry blossoms raining down onto the streets and parked cars; a veritable blanket of tiny pink petals.

We have gone to Beacon Hill park every Spring since Sonja was born to see the ducks, pet the baby goats, marvel at the majestic peacocks and peahens, and quietly admire the sunbathing turtles. 


The first time I took her to see the goats, Sonja was only about four-months old and had no idea what was going on, but I just had to rake her tiny hand through a baby goat's coat. The next year she was fascinated; walking around and around the pen, stunned at the antics of the rowdy, nibbling, bouncing goats. She chased ducks across the field until they dove into the ponds to escape and then she looked at me and squealed in disappointment, as if to ask "why won't they let me squeeze them?" Sonja was awestruck by the stoic, sunbathing turtles and I was surprised and impressed that she didn't rush at them. I actually think she was unconvinced that they were really alive; their stillness confused her.

Goat stampede!

If we continue this tradition, I wonder if Sonja and Haven will have nostalgic memories of our Springtime visits to Beacon Hill Park: the scent of the wood chips in the goat pen; the sound of the fountains in the duck ponds; the plaintive, catlike cry of the peacocks; the deceptively quick retreat of the turtles as they soundlessly slip into the murky water.

Well, I guess if they need any help remembering these times, they need look no further than the hundreds of photos I take everywhere we go. Seriously, all their memories are going to include me pointing a camera at them...