In all the details.
One of my earliest memories is of my father taking me down to the dog pen in the back yard. My little three year-old ears heard a new sound. It was not the whines or yelps of the dogs. He went to one of the pens and emerged with a tiny beagle puppy only a week old. I spent hour after hour in the pen. I named them all and knew them all by sight and sound. Only later when my mom admitted that she could not tell the dogs apart, did I realize the power of observation mixed with time had taught me lessons that no book or human could provide.
We’ve spent the better part of the morning in 15 minute shifts staring down the barrels of the microscope. Exclamations of: “what the” and “coooooool” and “come look at this” kept us all hopping up to share in the microscope’s world.
We have shifted from dropper fulls of front yard mud puddles to back porch algae rain puddles to a drop from the black water barrier tarp protruding from under our shed. So far the black tarp’s dropper has provided more to stare at than the others.
Loading the slides and bringing it into focus are just the beginning. The call to observation has made us forget lunch. And led to deep discussions regarding life, the universe, and everything. Time and observation have made the world infinitely more detailed and wondrous that we had previously imagined.