Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Yesterday, early afternoon, we headed out, the bunch of us, to dinosaur at the Royal Ontario Museum. There's nothing like rambunctious children and constant chatter to focus one's mind on things other than cares, concerns and issues. We went through part of the U of T grounds and I noticed Ruby come to a complete stop. She was momentarily in Ruby heaven. She loves seeing buildings covered in ivy. She has since she first noticed a building wearing a leafy sweater. In front of her, stood a prime example of nature's knitting. She immediately began asking questions. We explained a bit but as it was possible, Joe walked her right up to the building and they carefully pushed through the leaves to see the vines.
I had scooted ahead and found a tender tendril reaching out across the brick looking for a place to grab hold of. It was so young you could see where it had finely attached itself to the bumps and crannies as it continued to reach forward. When Ruby came near, I called her over. I showed her the very young stalk of ivy and showed her where the young plant was gripping on the rock. She reached out and touched it, very carefully not wanting to disturb it. There was awe in her eyes. This, to her, was fantastical. I had her feel the roughness of the rock and got her to point out where maybe the ivy could find a foothold. She was completely engrossed in the looking, the feeling and the experiencing. I love moments like these.
At one point when going through the dinosaur exhibit. Surrounded by amazing display, Ruby got tired and asked to sit with me. She climbed up and let me drive around holding her onto my lap. We were talking about the dinosaurs. Then she said that she was thinking about the ivy and wondered if what she was thinking was right. I asked her what she was thinking.
"Well," she said, "it gets a good hold, and then it grows. Is that right?"
I'm figuring, she got it right.