I extended my finger and she sprayed a little curl of foam on the pad, and indeed the foam popped and fizzed. A-ha, I thought, someone has finally combined the chemistry of Pop Rocks with the technology of aerosol cheese. I shook my head in the old I’ll-be-danged manner, and popped the finger in my mouth.

Later, when I got done rinsing and spitting and rinsing and spitting and pawing at my mouth like a dog with a lip-full of quills, and when the hysterical teenaged giggling subsided, I had a look at the can:

“WILD APPLE DAFFODIL SHIMMER FIZZ BODY MOUSSE”

Setting aside for a moment the idea that a man who would eat WILD APPLE DAFFODIL SHIMMER FIZZ BODY MOUSSE is in charge of the keeping and raising of daughters, let us consider that this same man, who considers himself moderately well-read and traveled was utterly ignorant of the existence of SHIMMER FIZZ BODY MOUSSE of any formulation, and is officially prepared to tender his letter of resignation as soon as he can figure out where to mail it. Why do I get the feeling that the road ahead is nothing but high-speed hairpins overlooking an endless canyon?

P.S. In her defense, please note that at no time did my niece suggest I actually eat the stuff.

P.P.S. On the back of the can, where it says “NOT TESTED ON ANIMALS”? No longer true.

As flattened, brown, and generally stomped as the landscape is at this stage, when you walk it, there’s also a great sense of rediscovery, and it was heartening to see my children reflect that. Much chattering, tree-climbing, pointing to this that or the other thing emerging from the snow or draped in flattened weeds, and of course – all children seem to have this chip – the greatest happiness reserved for water where there usually isn’t water. We have a small pond out back, and it was something to see last night, larger than it’s ever been. The oldest enjoyed toeing ice floes out into the open water. There were also many streams and rivulets gurgling along where later this summer will only be a faint grassy furrow.

We saw a perfectly preserved bear track (cast in dried mud), a deer (that’s like seeing a squirrel, frankly), and enjoyed a snack while sitting on a stump overlooking the valley. Back in the yard we were greeted by a sweeping clutter of chickens, and supper never tasted so good.

Gratitude.