I'm not sure what I was feeling Sunday morning. It must have been something leftover from our time at the Migration Celebration. Whatever the culprit I had a sincere urge to get back out into nature after church and Lindsay obliged me. Olivia and our boys were in company and I couldn't have had a better time.
The rain beat on us relentlessly. The path was the kind of mud that leaves footprints behind you that instantly turn to little progressive puddles. The wet soaked through even our rain jackets and more than once Nolan and I threw off our hoods to let our hair and scalp in on the adventure.
The moisture was so dense it was white around us—a great cloud often obscuring our view.
We tromped from the top of Taughannock trail all the way down the south rim to the main entrance. Nolan made it a point to slosh through every puddle along the way. He was the wettest of us, but to his credit he hiked the entire way himself, never once was he carried. He was a real scout on this trip, often picking his mother flowers or random downed sticks.
At one point Olivia asked, exhausted, why we had come out on such a day as this cold, rainy day. I simply responded that I'd like to see her find any place more beautiful, or any memory more worth making. I loved it.
I felt so peaceful. Yet so energized. I was dripping head to foot. I was finally satisfied with my purchase of the waterproof Kodak Playsport camera. I drank from a fountain of rain pouring off a dripping tree. I relished how alive everything in the world is, and just how creative Heavenly Father was when the birds, fish, and plants were created.
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