The Sands of Time

Sand.  I always assumed that pockets are filled with sand over the course of the day through extreme and rugged playing.  From wallowing in sandboxes, and rolling through dirt.

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But I learned otherwise on a hike through the Black Hills in Custer State Park.

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We drive the Needles Highway one day and did a hike to the Cathedral Spires.

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Jack picked up a piece of wood that was slightly curved, perfect for scooping sand, and there was a lot of sand and dirt to scoop.  Jack was a very good hiker that day, almost too determined, not wanting any help over some of the serious rock scrambles.  But on the way down, he asked me to carry his piece of wood filled with sand, because he was having trouble keeping the sand from spilling out on the way down.  I said he should just dump the sand and then fill it up again at the bottom of the hike.  Logical.  Subtext: Please lose that piece of wood on the way down.   Then I turned forward and started walking again, confident that Jack would dump the sand and follow.  After a few steps, I turned around to see him using the wood like a funnel, and filling his pockets with sand.   Filling his pockets with sand, on purpose.   New insight into the mind of a boy.

Seems odd to have a post about Jack and his antics, but Jack wasn’t really into posing that day.  As you can see.

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