“What a tremendous day!”

That’s what a man told me as he passed us on the trail with his dog. Us — the “We” — this day, were me, and the kids, and the dog. The kids absolutely caked in mud, miserable trying to walk in shoes that were now more water than not. To support them, I ferried each kid a dozen meters, one at a time ... until the oldest finally decided she could walk.

It was a tremendous day.

The Coves are designated an Environmentally Significant Area. That day in mid-April though, the South Cove was also an organically grown spring fair with a carnival atmosphere.

We saw a kayaker. Fishers lining the banks in the sun.

A multigenerational family visiting The Coves after many years. The younger of the fathers telling me how he grew up on Cove Rd and how he fell through the ice demonstrating to his friends that it was so thick he would not.

Fish jumping (for joy we assume). An ancient snapping turtle. And billions and billions upon billions of toads just shrieking and fucking, shrieking and fucking. When one’s on top of another I call it a two for one deal; we laugh, but daughter quiets us. Says she doesn’t want to disturb the ones that are mating. My heart beams.

A younger couple on the boardwalk observing that the phrase “leap frog” appropriately describes what these frogs are doing, and musing — “how disconnected are we from nature that this is the first time I’m thinking about that??”

A couple, different, later, on the same boardwalk (when we come back to collect some soaked socks and a water bottle) point out a snapping turtle to us. We see its sturdy, militarized shell as it moves away — ancient and tremendous.

And my kids leaping after the toads. Right into the water. The eldest ventures right in, and nearly loses her shoes to the mud several times. The younger falls and needs comfort (recovers quickly like usual); strangers offer to hold the dog while I go down to him.

An older boy comes over who speaks halting English, and offers to show us an easier place to catch the frogs. We eventually follow — somehow his patience outlasts our slowness. He was right and there are tons of easily scoopable toads in a little pond within the marsh. I wonder where he’s from, but feel like that’s not a thing you ask. I wish I’d thought to ask his name.

This is an environmentally significant area. The signs make this known. They say not to stray off the maintained dirt trails. But the people and the land are together today. Nature is blooming; people are blooming with it. Nobody is doubting the significance of this place. It is tremendous.