“Come over here!” my husband called to me and my younger son as we dawdled down the trail.

“What?” I yelled back, squinting at him and my older son.

“Just come look!” he said.

As we approached, I spotted exactly what he was talking about. The thin tree in front of him had deep gnaw marks all around its trunk. They almost – but not quite – went all the way through. The tree was still standing, but wouldn’t be for long.

“Ahhh,” I said in recognition. “What do you guys think made those marks?”

“A squirrel?” my older son offered.

“Hm, I think they’re a little big for a squirrel. But good guess,” I said. “Think big flat tail, big teeth…”

The kids stared at us.

Guessing that I wasn’t going to get a second response, I practically shouted, “A beaver!”

“Ohhhhh,” the kids both said, almost simultaneously.

“Let’s see if we can find other trees with beaver marks,” my husband said.

So we spent our hike searching for possible signs of beavers: teethmarks on trees, footprints along the stream, and piled-up sticks in the water. By the end, we found two more trees with the marks, although no signs of a lodge in process.

The hunt added a bit more adventure to my children’s normally adventurous approach to a fall walk. We were searching for treasure of a sort, no less precious to us than the jewels in old stories. Looking for those beaver signs forced us to pay keen attention to the environment, being aware of our surroundings when it’s so easy these days to cut ourselves off from what’s around us. They tuned us into listening to each other, as every gasp might be a new clue. As we kicked leaves down the trail and climbed over rocks without falling in the stream, we shared our joy and excitement.

But we only went on the walk, much less seen the beaver marks, because we embraced slowness that day. I’m an obsessive scheduler. I hate being stuck in the house – it actually makes me feel trapped at times. I fill up our weekend calendar a month in advance. In high school, I was the overachiever signed up for a million extra-curricular activities.

But my husband and kids are the opposite. Even when they love moving fast and having a sense of predictability, they don’t feel like every moment must be scheduled. They like lazy Saturday mornings and lots of free time. They’ve taught me a lot in that respect. I’ve come to understand that life is not measured in our productivity, but in our relationships and connections to others.

Which is how we ended up with an empty weekend afternoon on a spectacular fall day. That open time gave us the opportunity to go for a brief but wonderful adventure. If we hadn’t left that space open, we never would have had the freedom to find the beaver marks – and memories- that we did.

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