Spring break on a farm in Virginia means cousin time, which means hours of mostly-unsupervised playtime in nature. It means no above-ground power lines obstructing my view of the tall skinny trees and vibrant blue skies (read: happy photographer). It means bird songs by day and frog songs by night. It means finding rabbit's feet and turkey feathers in the woods, and spotting vultures watching us from high above. It means tree swings and tree houses, farm dogs, and roasting hot dogs over a fire with sticks. It means visits to Big Pond, Middle Pond, and Near Pond. It means climbing on trees brought down by storms, and building fairy gardens from collected quartz rocks and tiny pine cones. It means fishing in creeks with homemade lines and fishing in stocked ponds with real fishing rods. It means making new friends with the farm owner's grandchildren, and hearing stories about Daddy and his friends's farm shenanigans "back in the day." It means constructing an art gallery out of rocks and a hula hoop. It means picnics and funny faces on the grounds of national monuments (this year it was Monticello, those are Thomas Jefferson's vineyards you see behind those silly cousins.).
Cousin time anywhere is pretty special, but on a farm inVirginia it is down right magical.
Spring break at Nana's house means marveling at the way the light falls beautifully in every room of the house. It means naming all the masks on the wall, and occasionally sneaking one down for a quick inspection and maybe even a photo. And sometimes it means using the iPhone instead of the "real" camera because dang that wide angle lens is awesome (see below).
The saddest thing about spring break is the part where it takes place 3,000 miles away and after an idyllic week we have to say goodbye for another year.