Looking for dinosaurs at Fernbank.
Third graders study fossils. At least around these parts.
As a child, my mother volunteered at our local museum. Part of the responsibilities entailed traveling to classrooms and giving presentations. To prepare for these forays into the greater halls of learning — the Central Florida elementary schools — she practiced on me.
I loved the fossil trunk. Smooth rocks and artifacts that were so mysterious. I mean they could have been around when Stegosaurus or Brontosaurus roamed our earth.
So I couldn’t pass a chance to load up my two — three if you count Dad — and head to Fernbank and . . .
The building itself is beautiful. Way back when we lived in Atlanta, our house was mere minutes away. The law school where my husband and I met just a few miles down the road. But this was the first time I had ventured inside.
I tried to get this guy (or gal) all in the same frame.
It was impossible.
Like me, the kids were to the Mesozoic era and back brimming with excitement.
They did come alive and in the science experiment room — where we could do lots of hands on coolio stuff.
But for me the drawing cards was the dinos.
Maybe in an age of movies and games that bring these prehistoric beasts to life, a bunch of old bones isn’t that big of a deal?
Or maybe like a lot of things, the closer I get to becoming a fossil myself, I can identify with these quiet, mythical creatures?
What say you?
Linking up with . . .
