magnolias in bloom
The main treehouses are open again at Tyler Arboretum. The elves/fairies/gnomes and other fantastical creatures haven't arrived yet, but we were welcome to climb, explore, dress up, and make noise in the seven permanent treehouse structures.
noise tree!
I braved no fewer than five obstacles on Monday's trip: I did it stroller-less (which mean that I'd be stuck carrying any felled/obstreperous children to the car, atop my usual load of backpack/lunch/baby); Lucy insisted on wearing a new pair of leather dress-up sandals; the weather hinted strongly at rain; Lucy wanted to see the bean tee-pee and the faun "but that's it, that's the only stuff I want to see."
they were ballerinas and ballerinos
In the end, I carried no children except Thomas; Lucy's foot did get irritated from her shoe but she learned a good lesson about practical footwear*; the weather held off; and, despite the absence of the bean tee-pee and the faun, much fun was had.
So much fun that Peter and Lucy fell asleep on the drive home. Thomas, of course, stayed awake. Of course. But he doesn't seem to mind if I eat forbidden snacks in his presence as long as he can crinkle the jellybean wrappers.
neighborhood cantaloupe pushers
Of all our outdoor adventure favorites, Tyler is by far the closest. And possibly the easiest. It's unclear to me why we don't visit more often, treehouses or no treehouses. Peter and Lucy spent fully half of our visit Monday either (1) throwing things into the pond; (2) pulling up muck and mire from the pond with large sticks, a game they called "fishing for poop!"; (3) overturning stones, logs, and other downed objects to find worms; and (4) playing hide-and-seek in the magnolia grove.
Here's also where I should point out that we live in an arboretum (literally) and do this stuff at home pretty frequently. Perhaps that's why Tyler doesn't have the appeal that it ought to.
*Which is, in her words, "them shoes are good for church or parties or eating lunch."
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