secrets of small things and dripping Springs

A new set of colored pencils sit pretty and sharpened and ready, full of possibility in my "M" mug. I envision a few different art ideas, and want to wait for when patience and focus and time are all in line. But then not wanting to wait for this moment, I pull out a coloring book. What page speaks to me in this moment? Picking the page is fun.

I choose a page with this quote;

Smallness can be a celebration, an invitation for me to lie back on the wide green earth and let the world spin the sun right up above me.
— Emily P Freeman

It seems a fitting reminder, when I have visions of beautiful art and paintings to create, but instead in the cracks of times I am coloring in a coloring book.

My sister-in-law Shelby, bought me this coloring book; Illustrated by Jennifer Tucker, based on a favorite book of mine It's Simply Tuesday by Emily P Freeman.

She even had it signed for me. 

Today I look back a the little note in the front of the book.

It makes me smile.

My friend Meredith deemed November, slow-vember after how fast October felt. I quickly embraced that name and the instagram hashtag too; #slovember. Join along if you would like!

In my last post about October, I expressed how that is what I am wanting in November too; a slowness, a savoring, a settling, a smallness.

So on Saturday, we slept in, I let dirty dishes and laundry and dust wait a little longer, while Jeff, Oliver, and I drove out of town to Natural Falls State Park, to the dripping springs.

Sometimes it's nice to leave our home to explore

out doors

hoping for a vast expanse of Fall follaige

a place that makes us feel nestled in nature yet offers scenic outlooks and spacious views too

The waterfall was the main attraction, but really I think it was the joy of moving around unbound outside in Fall weather with autumn leaves falling like they are floating, and piling up on the foot path. 

We had never been to Natural Falls State Park. 

Walking towards the trail, we pass through a small wintering Garden, with some dried out mums, only one or two wildflowers still hanging on. I overhear an elderly lady say they are the Oklahoma state wild flower. 

She points them out to her friend admiringly, though most of the flowers are brittle and barely there.

I like the way she stopped to stare.

Oliver and Jeff would have kept walking, but of course I want to take a photo of a flower.

Where the Red Fern Grows was filmed at this park, which I didn't realize until we got there. The bathrooms labeled Little Ann and Old Dan and one trail named "Ghost Coon Trail". My heart feels tender. I made the mistake one year of reading this book out loud to my fourth graders. At the end, I could not hold it together, and one of my students volunteered to read the end for me. The memory makes me laugh now. Love that book and my sweet students. Also, I love ferns!

When we get to the waterfall basin there is only one pretty-pointless rail, that would not keep any toddler from falling in. We tell Oliver to be careful. Finally the group in front of us moves on, so it is just us for a little while. We sit down on the forest green benches with the Oklahoma emblem and listen to the dripping springs. Jeff spots the fuzziest caterpillar inching it's way on the rail over to our bench. 

Give us courage to sit on a bench and listen to the secrets small things have to teach us.
— Emily P Freeman