This is not a new idea. Nor is it really all that innovative. But study after study shows the benefits of playing in nature. Children are healthier overall, have better mental and emotional functioning, and less aggression. And, of course, there's the environmental benefit. Most people who grow up loving nature will you that it was frequent and early exposure to natural areas that made all the difference.
It made a difference for me: I've been a naturalist and environmental educator for 16 years. I'm thrilled to have the chance to now "use" my kids as guinea pigs--to provide these early and frequent exposures to nature. I want to immerse them in nature, get them outside every day--offer them chances to see and feel the changing of the seasons and the little differences each day makes. Let them learn language of nature-the singing of birds, the sighing of the breezes, the whispers of leaves.
We climbed on the boulders, rolled in the grass, collected rocks and put them in our bucket to dump in the dry streambed that meanders through the garden. We watched grackles sail through the blue sky and perch on the tippy-tops of the "pine needle trees." We made a fort under a spruce tree's low, spreading branches. The kids climbed up and down the big rocks, balancing on one foot, then the other. We collected tossable rocks in our pockets and made our way to the little waterfall. After a long time throwing rocks and flirting with our reflections in the water, it was off to another grassy area for more lollygagging. J pointed out each and every robin he saw. L collected sticks and pinecones, which we used as puppets. Hours passed. We munched on warm cheese sticks, raisins, elmo crackers. Hours passed. We forgot to be hungry for lunch. The sunshine drenching everything, the smell of crabapple blossoms--it was positively intoxicating. For all of us.
Until.
A small bee was spotted, minding its own business of course, crawling on the top of a rock, then making a slow, low glide through the air to another one. J was fascinated, looking like a little old man: hands folded across his paunchy little tummy as he leaned back against a rock, watching the bee intently. L, on the other hand, freaked. She screamed, she cried. She howled. "Get it away from me!" I tried to reason with her: "it won't hurt you honey, that bee is just minding her own business and checking out the rocks." No effect. I tried to pique her curiousity, "Watch the bee, sweetie. See if you can tell what it's doing." Nothing. She was desperately afraid. I told her she was safe, held her close and squatted down for a closer look. She buried her face in my neck.
I tried one last thing: "Hey, L, you can talk to the bee, you know. Ask it to go away and leave you alone." Very boldly, she did just that. No more than a second later, the bee flew straight up, hovered for a second right in front of her face (as if to say, "well alright then, goodbye!") and flew off. I was thrilled. L screamed even louder and begged me to hold her. "It did just what you asked, honey. It was just saying goodbye! Isn't that great?!"
"I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home!" Maybe it was the lack of any "real food," maybe the fact that it was way past nap time, maybe it was the heat of the sun. Whatever it was, the girl was done with this day.
Although she cried all the way home, after she had a short nap she agreed we had had an absolutely heavenly day. That evening when I said, "I just love springtime!" she agreed, with one caveat: "I like to stay inside, where there are no bugs."
We'll work on that.
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