I feel spring when I read the poem (in Just-) by E.E. Cummings. The words “Puddle wonderful” from the poem came to mind today as I headed off on a walk after school. My dog waded through puddles while I chose to navigate around them. It was sunny and there was lots of luscious melting activity taking place. Liquid dripped off roofs and down the sides of houses. Little rivers evolved in driveways and created pathways through yards. Snow banks were loosened and added to the water park fun in the street. Cars splashed through small pools sending spray my way. Little boys with sticks poked at the rivers and stirred the puddles, daring each other to take one step deeper. Two giggling girls rode by on a new fat tire bike, one pumping and the other on the seat, doing their best to stay out of the slush.
The “Puddle-wonderful” trickling sounds combined with the sun worked magic throughout the neighborhood. Everyone smiled and spoke. “I’m ready for this!” one man called as he cleared his driveway of melting debris. His small daughter stood in her puffy pink snow pants working along side him.
Suddenly, I was reminded of another small girl, my daughter at about that age, who had refused to wear pink. I remember shopping for rubber rain boots when she was three or four and how after looking them all over she had settled on the plain, dark green boots. I pointed out bright polka dots boots and bumble boots with anntenae. “No,” she had said adamantly. ” I want the zookeeper boots.” And sure enough, those dark green boots were just like the boots we had seen the zoo workers wearing. We brought them home and she loved wearing them. They were so easy for her to pull on all by herself. We went puddle walking often and always, she called them “zookeeper boots.” “Puddle-wonderful!”