We got rain the other day and between showers I sloshed over to the salt mash trailhead to paint some puddles. I was followed by a very brave preschool teacher and a wild gang of little explorers. Instinctively the children ran straight towards the slippery mess like bits of iron pulled to a magnet. I could see a calmness in the teachers eye as the boys and girls begged him forward. Like Daniel walking into the lions den, he stepped forward with grace. This is when the clouds parted and the miracle occurred.
I watched those kids run up and down through the mud, splashing doing all the stuff that toddlers do, and then he called them back and to my amazement no one was soaking wet. No one was muddy, no one fell, slipped, splattered their cloths, splashed another, nothing. It was a true miracle. I would have put money on one of them putting their hands in the mud at the very least. I was shocked and a little disappointed.
Instead of a dove a wild California Vole popped up three feet from my easel as the kids were passing. I called the teacher over and the kids gathered round to watch the vole play in the grass. Then it started to rain and the brave teacher and his troupe giggled their way back to the school. I tipped my hat to the vole, and started to pack up. I didn’t want to get stuck in the storm without my umbrella. I was on my own now. There’s a grace period between miracles, you got to wait at least three day before you can ask for a second one.
