A hard rain earlier in the week had knocked this bird's nest from a maple tree in front of our cabin. I persuaded Cole to hold it, for about a billionth of a second, before he ran off to swing from the long grapevine that was the give-your-mom-a-heart-attack highlight of the weekend's activities: jump off a rock, careen out over the road, swing back barely missing the tree, my god how strong can that vine be anyway. Exactly the kind of activity that would have consumed us, when we were kids, and so I gritted my teeth, stifled the mama bear urge to protect my cubs at all costs, even from fun...and let 'em swing.
Um, no, I never photographed the swinging.
The nest is far more interesting (than the swing)
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