Elm Park. Wednesday.

My son has taken to hanging about the big window in our living room and saying "Go? Go? GO! GO!" when it's good weather.

Hot with a cool breeze, sun blazing overhead.
We paint ourselves with SPF 50 and set out for the Park.

He squeals and giggles on the swings.
Somehow his hat stays on as he goes higher and higher.

I sip an iced coffee and revel in the sun on my bare arms and legs.
The air smells of sun block and the new flowers on the trees.

Then the buses arrive.
A hundred (that's a fair estimate, not an exaggeration) school children
- with giant stickers "Park Ave. Elementary" stuck to their shirts -
pour out and descended upon the few parents
and grandparents with babies.
Amusing at first, but when Sam wants to run around
he keeps getting in someone's way,
and I fear he's going to get plowed.

So into the stroller. We meander around the rest of the park.
To the bridges, the shady, flowering trees.
We run into Belle
(named for the Al Green song, her daddy has told me)
and her daddy.
We see them most times we're here.
She's 2, and I think Sam is in love with her.
She runs to him "Shammy! Hi Shammy!" and he hugs her head.
He gets out, and toddles around after Belle.

A woman and a dog are paddling in a carnation pink kayak.

They approach the ever present geese,

and the geese take flight, relatively low.
They go right over our heads.
I tell Sam to look, but he's sitting in the grass,
munching a dandelion.

The schoolchildren are on the march,
and the playground is deserted.
Sam and I bid goodbye to Belle,
who wants to climb a cherry tree,
and he swings until he gets tired.

Home for snack and a nap.

And a chronicling of our morning.