Fall is Elephant Rock State Park, caramel trail mix, chili and pumpkin desserts.
Summer is snow cones by the pool, Muny Theatre and BBQs.
Winter is a trip to the zoo on a sunny warm winter day in St. Louis, a Christmas tree full of family ornaments and cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.
What do these traditions do for us, for our psyche? They fill us with warmth and satisfy our senses. It gives us family memories of laughing, filling our tummies, talking and spending time together. The smells and sights of seasons connect the past to the present and I pray it continues to be a connection point deep into the future.
Elephant Rock for some families may be a one and done location. For our family it is a yearly tradition. I’m just as eager as the kids about and planning a day trip to the park. The thought of missing a year truly makes me majorly disappointed. It’s a day that starts with packing a lunch for the trip. We hike, jump, climb and take photos. While the trip is full of usual things we do, each year we go we also discover something new. We take a new route through the rocks, we climb on top, or crawl between. We stumble upon old railroad tracks and building relics. We’ve seen salamanders, snakes squirrels and even mating butterflies. This year we skipped rocks with my husband. No one can skip a rock like Daddy.
The colors of Fall are the tapestry of our Maker (thanks Tina Abernathy for that beautiful reference). Our world is made beautiful by the variations of color, size and kind. The colors in the area from October to October range from greens to golden yellow, bronze, clay, pink and burgundy. I am never disappointed and always in awe of the painting we see across the horizon when we climb to the highest points.
I began going to this park as a young girl with my parents and big sister. It was a yearly trek we made. Mom was usually scared to climb too high or lunge across the crevices big and small, but she still made the trip, climbed and took photos. We continued that tradition. I will climb the rocks until my body no longer allows it, which I pray will be decades from now. And when I can no longer do it, I look forward to hearing and seeing my kids continue the tradition.
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ProvidentiallyClark 