Rain-Washed Treasures

Well, the forecast was right. It rained last night. It rained this morning. It’s been raining off and on this afternoon.

When Luna and Millie and I rambled around the yard this morning, the sun was out...

but it was blustery...

and things were still a bit drippy and soggy.

There were fresh deer tracks in the damp, soft earth...

and newly uncovered airsoft pellets.

Years ago, my son and his buddies were really into airsoft—as in, shooting airsoft guns at each other. Consequently, there are an infinite number of airsoft pellets scattered around our property.

(Seriously. Infinite. No end to them.)

When I married my sweetie and joined this family, I was a thirty-nine-year-old singleton who had grown up with only sisters. (I have four brothers but didn’t grow up with them; I grew up with two of my five sisters—kind of a girly family.)

So marrying into an all-male family of my husband and two sons, I had a wee bit of culture shock.

The airsoft pellets scattered all over the property kind of appalled me. It seemed like careless, wanton littering. I could see they had fun shooting at each other, but I was still appalled. And so many of the pellets were fluorescent orange! Ugly plastic!

(As they say, “You spot it, you got it.” Of course my son’s sloppiness drives me crazy because my own does, too. But that’s a topic for another day. For many, many other days.)

Well, then my grandkid came along.

How old was she when she discovered the airsoft pellets? Two? Two and a half?

Old enough to say, Look, Grammalisa, little, tiny balls!

Look! Anudder one!

An’ anudder one!

Lots of little, tiny balls!

Here, you hode dem.

(Natch.)

Looking for “little balls” became as much a part of our routine as blowing bubbles, 

reading stories,

going down slides,

and petting the cats.

Soon, we had a glass bottle with a cork stopper just for collecting little balls.

Finding a green one in the grass, May 2012:

Gloating over the growing hoard, June 2012:

The only reason the jar is so empty right now is because just a few weeks ago, it was so full that we had to empty it into a larger jar.

Now if I had begun collecting those little tiny little plastic balls when I first saw them, it could only have been a tedious, onerous trash cleanup, undertaken with resentment and self-righteous indignation, because I didn’t shoot them! It’s not my job to clean them up!

But now, because of that sweet little girl, it’s a treasure hunt. 

I even picked up a few this morning, all by myself.  

Good job, Grammalisa.