Weekend Vingettes

This weekend I was laying on the couch finishing up Reservation Blues for my book club when Ashton asked if I was reading for school. I explained not this time, but that she was right, I do indeed read so I can be a better teacher. She then said to me, "I'm a good teacher too." I asked her to explain what she likes to teach.  Her response: "All about elephants, and snakes, and frogs, and flowers and plants and animals." I answered her with a long squeeze and gentle kiss on the top of her nose. She then burrowed in next to me to read her own book.

When I was out mowing the lawn this afternoon I found a frog hopping away to safety. I paused long enough to catch it and bring it over to my little naturalist. She was so excited. She carried it in her bucket until we told her it was time to set the little green hopper free. She said okay and quickly released it near a cluster of logs that converge into a cave and said, "Here is a good nest for you frog." For the rest of the afternoon she happily passed the time "frog hunting," and we finally got some spring time work done in the yard. It was rather nice.

On the not-so-nice side of life, on Saturday I went to open the sunroom door and luckily looked out the window before turning the handle. There, laying in the center of my path next to my Boggs was a helpless, lifeless vole. We often have stray cats come over to visit Teanaway late at night, so I thought maybe one saw the opportunity to leave us a gift since I left the screen door wide open. (Teanaway has never been one to leave us little presents at the doorstep.) I gasped, squeaked a little, maybe even sighed heavily and Ashton came running to see what had me so worried. I lifted her up to see the furry lump and she promptly asked what it was. I explained that the mouselike critter had startled me and that it wasn't moving because it was dead (a reality I wished I had kept to myself, but couldn't take it back). She said, "Well, I think it probably just wants its momma right now." I agreed and we went to the phone to call Poppie and let him know he'd be on clean-up crew when he got home. He tried to tell Ashton that it ran away, and Izzi said, "Yeah. To it's mama," nodding her head a bit to the left in vigorous compassion.  I thought that was the end of the vole until this evening when Ashton was having trouble settling down to go to sleep. I said, let's think of all the animals we saw this weekend. She promptly remembered the frog, and seconds later the vole. She said, "You were scared because it was dead, and Poppie had to take care of it." I guess there is no fooling her.