Today was a day for exploration.
Behind our house is a piney woods, complete with hills and downed trees and big rocks and all the things kiddles love to clamber about on.
The first thing spotted? A forty-year old beer can. I wish I'd picked it up.
(yes, I know this is a bottle. I've spent way too much time trying to find a picture. Google Image isn't always what's it's cracked up to be.)
Next, rabbit tracks. Since Cass is convinced the Easter Bunny lives in these hills, it wasn't a large leap for him to decide that the can was the Rabbit's.
Of course, if I was in charge of a world-wide egg conglomerate and I had to live in the woods, I'd drink too. (Happy hic! Easter to you too! hic!)
On the way back we saw this:
(you may have to click on this to make it bigger, but seriously? The best rendition I've ever seen of a tree standing on its head.)
So any odd noises I hear back there? We're blaming either the rowdy tree yoga class, or Peter Cottontail, shamefully blitzed again.