Unquestioningly, it is important to encourage children to get outside, but I think that it is also important to encourage children to revisit the same place again and again; to really, REALLY understand what you are discovering. The importance lies under the auspicious ceiling of really getting to know somewhere intimately; less is more for when we refocus our attention on a snapshot it is easier to observe all that is within. Sure, broad knowledge is necessary, the changing leaves on the trees have always signified seasonal unwrappingings with excitement, but we would miss the emergence of assassin bugs on a tree if our eyes were only looking at the magnificence of the sky line.
For as many years as the children can remember we have headed to the same creek, season in and season out (actually, I don’t think there is an out season). We are so lucky that this creek is owned by family very dear to us; family who understand the importance of creating an environment that supports aquatic life and fosters children’s creativity in the first place, who understand what it is to get wet and dirty, who understand the importance of keeping bug nets close at hand and who, at the drop of a hat, choose to spend several hours down at the creek instead of washing the dishes after a family gathering.
The water gurgles along during spring, but unlike sand draining the hour glass it does not signify time; time here stops. Rocks are turned over and crawfish with truly ferocious craws are dug out, toes have the chance to feel wet silky mud under them, birds are watched establishing their territory, deer tracks are noted and most importantly frogspawn is collected, taken home and cared for until they emerge as frogs,
The babbling slows a little in summer. We come back and spend more time in its cooling mass. As mayflies and dragonflies glide by us we gently scoop out our frogs from canning jars and release them back into the swirling creek wishing them luck on their adventures, its hard, they have been embraced as part of our family; yes, they each have names. I find it difficult to do anything but lay in the sweet grass feeling the cooling breeze pass over me as I listen to excited children treasure hunt, days could fly by, and often they do, while we visit.
Trickling, the colorful leaves of fall add to the stream of water and they bob and float along and clog up the pools. It makes it hard to catch anything: natural camouflage from giggling fingers. Dandelions spill on the breeze and bullrushes are ready to burst forth.
And then winter, where each breath seems to freeze before it escapes your lungs, where popping to the creek gets coupled with words like “bracing” and “sharp”, but still we go, where boot clad toes prod adventurously at sheets of ice and the bull rushes have ceased to explode its cloudy comfort with each touch. The sliver tipped fronds of summer grass are witness to footprints and hold their shape in the frost.
We revisit all this, season in and season out (although I don’t think there is an out season). We take note of each change and comment upon all aspects of life. It is a joy to be able to anticipate what we will find on each visit, and it is always exciting when a change, a new happening has been discovered. To me it sends a message that says that through the year everything remains the same, but winthin season everything changes, and that’s okay. It sets the scene for acceptance, for tolerance, for caring, for noticing and for loving ALL living things, for if we can even love assasin bugs, the our love for humanity remains unquestionable.
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