One of my favorite aspects of Idaho is its ability to offer a treasure around every corner! Between the foothills, the mountains, the rivers, and the dynamic outdoor world as a whole, this state has proved to be bursting with beauty and wonder. As fate and my wandering paws may have it, the tremendously travelable trails have most recently led me to a quaint destination of the utmost snowball-ish qualities. (You might soon notice that I’m on an alliteration kick today.)
Upon arrival, I allowed my two most trusted senses to work their magic. My nose told of animals. There were all kinds of scents, but faded ones. Squirrels? Birds? Humans? One or another combination of those things… all from the past. My nose told me that it had been many minutes since those animals had left. My nose is good. It knows everything. My eyes told of a ginormous white blanket — a field — one that went on and on until it met the bottom of the hills. But that wasn’t all. There were three scattered objects on the stretching surface — big, round masses of the same color. These objects were waiting for me and Ducky to sniff them. My eyes also told of a colorful, tangled mess of materials. The materials were tall and hard, winding and curvy. Some of the materials moved in a swinging fashion, while others would have refused to budge even in a windstorm. What are they? I will surely find out.
As I always do during my typically terrific travels, I followed my paws. First, they led me down a beaten path of snow and ice. It was a slow and careful movement, until suddenly, I found myself veering left and quickly making my way across the field. Fluffy snow everywhere! Before I had time to recognize what was happening, I looked up to see a ball. It was one of the few, scattered balls. It was a humongous snowball. Ducky and I gawked at it for a moment before gazing out amongst the rest of the landscape. It was all so white, so bright, and so big.
Next, we trekked to another point on the trail, where we passed sled riders and snowball fighters in action. They zoomed down the hills and sent snowballs whizzing through the air. Dipping and dodging as we passed, Ducky and I finally made it through. We reached the quiet side of the field. There, the colorful, tangled mess that I have mentioned awaited. We watched it. We smelled it. We touched it. We climbed upon it. We stomped all over it. We took a picture on it. We slid down part of it. Finally, we named it: a playground.
It was a playground, and the field was a park. My treasure of today: Guerber Park.
Until next time, Idaho, may your adventures remain slightly terrifying and never completely tangible — just like mine.
