There's a small river way back behind our house, and over the years, many trees have fallen over it. One of them makes a nearly-perfect bridge (for the brave and well-balanced) to the other side, though you have to climb awkwardly over a near-vertical root ball to complete the journey.
Franklin has not yet made it all the way to dry land on the far side, but he keeps trying...
...and chickening out at the last second, turning around (he hasn't fallen doing this — yet), and running back to home turf.
He'll get there someday.
xo
xo
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