Change Welcomed

Last Ski in the Woods

Likely the last ski of the winter

Took me through cedar groves

And stands of hemlock, birch, maple.

The warm March sun

Casting shadows

Turning straight tree trunks

Into curves and arcs

On the undulating snow drifts

                                                    

I stopped to take it all in

When tiny chirps and the

Whirrrr of wings past my ears

Made me dig deep into my pocket

For a handful of sunflower seeds.

Holding my well trained palm flat

The tiny bold birds

Impossibly light, lit on my hand

And one by one

Carefully selected the seed of their choice.

Further on, tracks of porcupine

Like tire tracks

And bounding squirrels,

Whitetail deer and cottontail rabbits.

Weasel tracks circumnavigated

A puffy pile of brown feathers…

A forest murder mystery

That kept us occupied

Deciphering the clues

Spring Song

The soft grey catkins bursting

From the aspen branches

At the end of the road

Don’t lie.

Spring is coming.

The birds know it.

Crows, chickadees, blue jays

Have changed their songs

More varied, complex.

Spring means only one thing.

Sitting on the dock, reading

In the March warm sun

I look out over the

Frozen lake waiting

For the first migrant birds

To spring into sight

Soon the geese will be

Staking out their nesting sites

Sitting on the still frozen ice

Patiently knowing that

Spring is near.

We sit by a fire fed by the

Rotted boards of an old

Dock in need of renewal

And repair once

Spring is here.

I walk carefully over the ice to

View the progress and

Suddenly find myself

Right thigh deep in cold water

Surprisingly not painful.

I pull myself out and

Take off my wet jeans and

Socks in front of the fire

Covering myself in my

Blanket I laugh.

Spring is here!

Pussy Willow Power

When I was four years old, I lived in an apartment in the west end of Toronto near the Black Creek.  I remember the weeping willows in the nearby park.  Whenever I drive past that park, even now, I remember the child feeling of delight under those long waving branches and the world feels simple and safe once again.

Then we moved to a house in a new subdivision in Brampton.  There were no trees anywhere in the newly “developed” farmer’s field.  My father set to planting the yard with tulips, roses, mint, forget-me-nots and trees.  We made frequent visits to the local nursery.  I always pondered the use of this word with regard to plants.  As a child, I pictured baby trees being stroked and talked to so that they would grow big and tall.

On one particular visit I encountered my first pussy willow bush and fell in love with its soft catkins.  Here was a plant I could stroke and talk to for sure.  I asked my dad if we could have one but he had his sights on something else.

The owner saw something in me that my father didn’t.  He told me to come with him over to the bush as he pulled a cutting tool out of his pocket.  He quickly removed three pussy willow branches from the bush and explained that if I went home and put them in water, they would root.  Then I could plant them in the earth and I would have my own pussy willow bush.  It seemed to be a miracle to me – too good to believe, but the man looked into my eyes seeing the gardener within me and I trusted that what he told me was true.

Sure enough, a few weeks later I had a jar with rooted sticks and my dad helped me to plant them in the garden.  They grew and grew and eventually the bush was twenty feet tall.  It survived insect attacks that left it near dead more than once and rebounded faithfully year after year.  Each spring, I would cut some branches to have the sweet grey “pussy cats” in my room. 

This was my first and formative experience of co-creating with nature that I can remember.  Nature needed me to put the sticks in water, wait, dig a hole and pack the earth in and then it took over.  The bush remained a companion and evidence of the power to co-create until I left home.

I would plant cuttings from my first bush at every home I lived in after that if there was a piece of land available.  It connected me to the earth and made it feel like home.  Eventually, my father tired of the bush when I was long gone and he had it removed.  But the knowledge that I could create with nature was firmly rooted within me and nothing could remove that.

In a generous moment, that nursery owner changed my life.  I went from a child dependent on a parent’s good will to someone who could co-create with the owner, the plant and the earth.  This knowing never left me.

Even at my office in Toronto, the pussy willow stalks that I put into the planters on the front porch often took root.  In one planter, the bush grew to ten feet in height.  Unfortunately the landlord’s assistant thought that this was “in the way” and it was cut down much to my dismay.  But the next spring, up it came once again.

My last home was a farm on a hill where pussy willows refused to grow no matter how many times I tried.  Just one year after leaving the farmr a new little piece of land on the shore of Georgian Bay became available for me to garden on.  One of my clients brought me pussy willows recently and I am already rooting them so that I can plant them in Waubaushene this spring.  This piece of land is so close to the lake that the pussy willows will have their feet wet and I know they will flourish.  

The grandmother that I now am feels childlike as I co-create once again with the earth.  I know that when I plant the stalks in the earth and watch them take hold and grow that it will feel like home.  And that knowing sustains me.

Change is in the Air

If you're like me then David Suzuki has been talking about the environment for most of your life.  Indeed, he is turning 80 this year.  I support many of the foundation's endeavors and receive a weekly email of his blog.  This morning I was reading "Change is in the Air" and I wanted to share it with you.  Suzuki feels that the revolution is already under way.  Check it out on his blog.

Last Child in the Woods

A few times every winter, my partner and I volunteer to take kids cross country skiing at the Wye Marsh in Midland, Ontario.  Sometimes they are Scouts, Guides, Brownies or Cubs. The kids who are athletically inclined or have skied before zip along after the leader.  I like to go at the very back where the kids who are not having such an easy time with this activity are struggling along.  I was not an athletic child so I understand that this can be quite a challenge. 

I tell them that this isn’t so much about skiing but really about being in the woods in the snow to see what is there.  We look for and find lots of animal tracks such as rabbit, weasel, deer, fox, coyote, porcupine, squirrel, mouse and grouse. I tell them that the tracks tell a story and just like learning to read a story from a book, we can read the snow – it’s just a different kind of language.  The kids at the back of the pack tell me stories about their pets and encounters with other animals.  If chickadees appear, I hand out sunflower seeds and the tiny birds delight the children by landing on their hands to eat.

My daughter who studied outdoor recreation and education gave me a book by Richard Louv a few years ago.  It is called Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder (2005).  Louv coined the term Nature Deficit Disorder to describe the recent phenomenon of children being cut off from the natural world due to parents’ fears of harm, increasingly busy lives and the rise in the use of technology to entertain kids.  He feels that if this bond is not fostered in children, it will be very hard for them as adults to create a bond with nature.

Louv cites research that “links our mental, physical, and spiritual health directly to our association with nature – in positive ways.”  He feels that children need good food, adequate sleep and a connection with nature to be healthy.  Louv reports on a growing movement to help connect children with nature.

The David Suzuki Foundation here in Canada is working with parents to provide children with time in nature equal to the screen time that children spend with technology.  The Suzuki Foundation has free  resources on how to spend time with kids in nature. This is good for the whole family.  People only protect things they know and care about so connecting children with nature is good for the planet as well.

As a “grandparent at large” I feel it is my responsibility to pass on my love of nature to children.  I want their experience to be a happy one, filled with stories, surprises and wonder since that is how experience being in the woods. 

One time, I was with a young Scout who had never skied before.  He was from the city.  He mostly walked on the skis so the 2.5 km trail took us a long time.  All the other Scouts were long gone down the trail.  But we stopped to look at tracks, different kinds of trees and to feed chickadees.  He told me all about his pet dog and lizard.  His Scout troop was spending the weekend at the Marsh camping and doing all sorts of outdoor activities.  “I’m definitely telling my parents that I skied,” he told me.  “Definitely!”

 A little while later he asked me if we were going to finish the trail.  I answered that we definitely were going to finish it.  There really was no choice except in an emergency.  It was then that I realized that I was with the last child in the woods for the day.  I thought of Richard Louv and I felt honoured to be spending time with this boy as we experienced the woods and nature in a peaceful way. 

Recently, I was with another group of Scouts and was once again at the back of the pack with a very reluctant and fearful young man.  I already had a plan to do a very small loop if things didn’t get better for him.  It took over ten minutes of falling and complaining before we even got to the trail.  But as soon as we got into the woods and I pointed out a rabbit track, he straightened up and became totally engaged with the tracks.  “Do you think we’ll see fox tracks?” he asked.  I assured him that was possible.  Suddenly he skied with more ease, drawn forward by the magic of the forest.  He even managed a few small hills without falling down.

 When he became discouraged on a larger hill with one of the leaders and another boy who was struggling with this new skill, we took off our skis to walk the rest of the hill.  At that moment a small flock of chickadees appeared and I gave the boys sunflower seeds which they held in their outstretched hands.  The birds landed one at a time and took seeds from the boys.  Their faces said it all.  The impossibly light little birds who were brave and bold enough to take the seeds brought a magic to these children and a connection to the forest that they will not soon forget.  “Those kids who are good at skiing are missing all of this,” said the boy who had been so reluctant.  “We’re getting the real experience!” he boasted.  Once again I felt tremendously honoured to be providing this experience, this connection for these kids, the last children in the woods for that day.

I was reviewing some of Richard Louv’s work on his website when I came across a video made by Miranda Anderson of British Columbia. This young woman has been making films since she was very young.  She felt so inspired by Louv’s work that she made a short film called the Child in Nature which you can view on you tube.  It is very inspiring to hear a child’s own experience of the importance of a connection with nature for her and her peers.

Richard Louv and others founded the Children and Nature Networke.org/  “to fuel the worldwide grassroots movement to reconnect children with nature.” You can find more inspiring stories there.  It seems that people are connecting with each other on behalf of the children of the world and their connection to nature.  It may seem ironic that they are connecting on-line to communicate the importance of connecting with the opposite of technology but such are the new stories we are telling.  Perhaps some of these stories will inspire you to share your stories with the children in your life when you are in a forest or by a lake or in your backyard.