It’s the Little Things that Count

I heard someone in the office use that quasi-Biblical phrase: It’s the little foxes that ruin the vineyard. I was thinking about that in comparison with friend Wendy’s blog (www.naturenuts.com) and the joy she manages to find in teaching nature to kids—little foxes all. Then I began contrasting Wendy’s ideas with the cliché of seeing the world through a child’s eyes and how it relates to my new-found role as grandpa.
I’m learning. Taking a walk with a four-year-old does open one’s eyes, that’s for sure. There’s an excitement in kids most people over 48-inches-tall have long gotten over—or forgotten. Our grandson picks up what I might think of as trash and tells me it’s material for his art project. Of course it is. He asks who or what; all the while my adult brain is trying to forget all the strangers I’ve met. Wendy’s kids learn that owls eat bones, then get off on the fact that their mothers would throw up if they knew that fact. How cool is that?
When we get to be adults, where’s our wonder? Most of us don’t even wonder about that name at the bottom of our pay check. Who is that person? We don’t care; only that the check arrives.
We don’t want to dream. We want the night to leave us alone. As writer Edward Abbey said, old men have guilty dreams. And writer/singer Patty Griffin says "Night only wants to kiss you deep and be on his way; pretend he don’t know you the very next day."
As Wendy frequently notes, nature can drive you to your knees. I thought that was kind of hokey. Now I get it. If we get down to that four-year-old’s eye level we’ll begin to see things as they really are—or the way they could (should) be.
And those little foxes? They’re just doing their fox thing. If losing a few grapes is a problem for you, get out of the whine business.