Once the snow melts, I believe the next thing we unearth from the garage is the sidewalk chalk. My heart thaws when I witness the return of the sidewalk chalk. I regain hope for happy days, carefree play, and lazy moments in the shade. And my children have a flood of creativity, again.
It's a simple, archaic joy. The art of disposable expression -- here today and gone tomorrow. Well, actually because this state has very little rain, the works of genius last a week or so. And really, nothing replaces the powdery pleasure of chalk on your hands and cheeks and knees as you dream up extra big game boards, and pictures to walk into.
Frankly, few things are as pleasurable for a mother than when her boys are getting along and sharing the power of both of their brains as they play out their ideas in pastel colors on pavement. This pleasure ends abruptly when the sun sets and both boys march inside, strip down, and leave a trail of grit in their wake. Laundry knows no season.