Josie jumped. Peter Pan jumped. And Harley ...Well, Harley may have jumped. It’s difficult to tell with his being so very near to the ground and all, especially when you yourself have jumped almost entirely out your skin. 
     But we’ll say that the four of us jumped in unison—albeit in our varied heights—startled by a patch of Buttercups that exploded in our approach, took wing, and made for wood’s edge, where, like a fistful of golden coins, strewn and spin glimmering, end over end, the flowers vanished into the thick of underbrush and briars there. 
     I know for certain that the four of us stood then for quite some time, blinking, uncertain of what we had seen. 
     Blinking ...until bird by bird, the Goldfinches appeared at the low tips of Dogwood boughs and blackberry cane, to preen and wait our passing their sweet patch of Buttercups, spring-laden with seed.