It’s my daughter holding the remains of a turtle egg.
This weekend, I went for a walk along the Rappahannock River. As I walked along, I started to hope–against the odds–that I might find a turtle.
|On the Banks of the River|
I always look for turtles. I rarely find them. (There was that one strange day when I tried to lure a turtle out from under my porch.) Turtles and I have a strange history. I can remember every single one I’ve ever found. When I think about turtles, they symbolize all the Good Things, all the Enchanted Wonder, all the Beautiful Hope of childhood.
Have you found a turtle and felt this way?
So I’m walking along the river, hoping for something as silly as a turtle.
And lo and behold!
|Turtle Laying Eggs|
The whole landscape becomes a turtle heaven!
The mountain laurel hides their nests.
|Hiking Through Mountain Laurel|
I look down, and I find another one.
|Turtle Hiding in the Leaves|
|Mountain Laurel Blooming|
And then another.
It was a great day.
Then, as if those turtles weren’t enough, I saw three more when I went on a walk with my sister in another part of the state.
Those turtles remind me of abundance and delight. If I hunt, I will find.
Journal: Do you remember finding turtles?