My neighborhood in Sonoma’s west side has a lot of foot traffic – students walking to and from school, patients going to their medical appointments, pet owners walking their dogs, shoppers carrying their grocery bags. I see them pass daily from my kitchen windows, and I can wave or say “Hi” to those I recognize. They have formed a familiar part of my life, a relatively peaceful routine, until the morning two carts of youthful passengers enlivened the scene.
Imagine multiple rows of stroller seats connected into one parade buggy. Sometimes six little ones would be rolling down the sidewalk pushed by one strong, young woman. Sometimes two buggies with precious passengers turned the corner. Scanning the huge world around them, their little faces turned to look at whatever caught their attention as they passed. I was enamored.
After a few days, I looked forward to their arrival and didn’t leave the house until they had come by. One morning I finally went outside and asked the adults where their group was from. Turns out they were members of an infant care program at a local elementary school out for some fresh air and environmental exploration. I think my teacher’s instinct kicked in, and I told my husband who also enjoyed seeing the children, “I have an idea.”…