Today's run at the High Bridge State Park was fabulous.
I'm always impressed at how well the trail is maintained. Today I even ran across this beautiful scene.
It reminded me of the story about a little boy who lived on a dairy farm whose mother was having a birthday. The little boy doesn't have any money to go and buy a gift, so he goes out to the pasture where it's springtime, and the meadow is filled with these beautiful wildflowers. He spends some time picking an assortment of them, and then on his way back to the house he stops by the family dump and finds an old mayonnaise jar. It's cracked, it's nicked, it's scratched, it's filthy, but it'll do. He takes that jar to the barn, washes it out until it's clean enough, and then puts the bouquet in the jar along with a little water. He takes that gift to his mother. "Happy Birthday, mommy!" Needless to say, she's just overjoyed. She breaks into tears of delight. Of course, her joy is all about the flowers, not the mayonnaise jar.
All of the great educators I have ever known always felt in their heart that they were just a mayonnaise jar, just a vessel that somebody happened to pick out of the trash and wash out. Nothing special to look at or get excited about, but just serviceable enough to hold a few beautiful flowers.