On Sunday we walked in the desert east of our house. We can access this sliver of land, owned by our homeowner's association, by sneaking through the right-of-way between two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac. Here the desert holds a network of dry riverbeds variously called washes or arroyos that rarely run with water. During our rainy season, though, the larger wash is fed by rain water and snowmelt running off the Santa Catalinas. Running water in the desert is cause for excitement!
Here the boys attempt to build a sand bridge. Play starts pretty tame. After all, temperatures hover in the low 60s and there's a windchill that makes it feel like high 50s. We're cold-blooded creatures in the desert southwest, happier in the summer when temperatures dance around the 100 degree mark. I didn't even feel the water.
But you can't lead boys and dogs to water and then forbid them to get wet. The boys were light on their feet in their initial forays.
The dogs had no such reservations. They jumped right in. I love how Cassie eats the water.
They played.
And played.
And played some more, until the adults started spouting that nonsense about how you'll get sick if you stay out in the wet and cold for too long, and it's time to go home and have a warm bath and some hot chocolate.
Evan said, "I've got a rock in my shoe!" That cracks me up.
We had fun.
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