We arrive at San Elijo Lagoon, leaving the Sunday Scarries back at home to wallow. This coastal estuary hosts a new act of wonder minute by minute upon the wetland stage. Wandering rivers catch the glare of the sun for its last call of the day.
Fast and furious all three of my little birds take off running. Their confidence shoots up like the surrounding cattails as they gallop on familiar concrete bridges that jump the waterways.
“Stay where I can see you!” I yell to the middle bird like she’s on parole.
Native plants reach over the rope-lined walkway for a hello and a handshake. Black sage is mostly dormant, but I still manage to find the invigorating scent. Memories of the super bloom line the paths, now dried and seeded.
Three herons wade in the wetlands. And thanks to the nature center’s “Landings & Arrivals” list on the entrance door, I am now a heron expert – at least to my daughters. The great blue heron soars overhead, tapping either side of the horizon with its vast wingtips. White and slender, the great egret creeps along methodically in shallow muddy water while hunting for fish. My Hoka walking shoes seem clunky compared to the bright yellow, four-toed, waterproof feet of the snowy egret. Every foot and feather of these elegant herons is made for this environment.
Much like the birds, my daughters are all about snacks, though less subtle about their needs. We stop, carry, and cajole onward.
After the usual loop, we pause along a wooden bridge over a thicket of Southern California black walnut trees. Crinkled leaves from the nearby big-leaf maple span beyond the size of my face. My husband and I sit down for a much-needed rest while the kids jump into fantasy land.
“Alright, time to go!” I call. I’m tired and need a snack.
I hate going for walks. We always go for walks. Lagoons are so boring. I never—
Before I know it, the hard dirt and tiny pebbles underfoot lift me into take-off mode.
Mom yells something, but I don’t hear her. I am free! My feet kick up dirt behind me. I dodge other grownups on the trail and pet the friendly puppies.
We stop to touch a plant that smells like Christmas and tingles my nose. Most of the plants look dead, but Mom says they’re only sleeping for the winter.
A big grey bird soars like a paper airplane above me. A white bird roller skates in the water and bobs its head like a fancy dancer. A smaller white bird with a long neck parachutes toward the water and touches down with its yellow rain boots.
I am so hungry. My legs are thirsty. I can’t take another step. My body falls to the dirt and I lay my head back, propelling my arms like sand angels. The sky is so big and round from down here.
I get a fresh burst of energy when I see our tree fort ahead. My arms reach up to the branches and my feet follow. The leaves shake as I shimmy up and land in the “y” shaped groove of the trunk. Stumps below are set in a fire circle and I whip up my famous tacos – watercress leaves on bark with berries for a pop of color.
Mom gets up and wipes the dirt off of her pants.
“No, we just got here!” I yell. I wish we could stay all day.
Jenna Nienhuis 
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