small wonders

101 things to do outside with children #9: rest

2011-10-17T09:31:00.000-07:00

Today is a milestone day for me! My forthcoming book (Early Childhood Activities for a Greener Earth) has been sent on to the publisher for typesetting. I am so thrilled!

And, so very, very tired.

My suggestion for the day is fitting, then. Rest! Here in Minnesota we've been blessed with some lovely, crisp fall days with plenty of sunshine. I like to spread a blanket out on the ground under a tree and just enjoy lying down together. Of course, lying down and being still is hard for some children (especially my son!) so I like to have a book or some sliced apples for us to enjoy together. Of course, there are many ways to tempt them to come and be still. When J was playing in the leaves and I was lying on a blanket, I invited him to bury me in leaves and then to lie down with me. It worked! We lay under the leaves, listening to them crackle, for a good 3 minutes before he was up and off again.

Young children are often loathe to be still for long periods of time, but doing this practice frequently invites them to enjoy stillness, and they can eventually "work up" to longer periods of quiet reflection.

We get so busy and so focused on "doing" all the time. It's lovely to carve out some time to just rest and be together.

101 things to do outside with children #8: go barefoot

2011-09-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

Here in Minnesota, we are savoring these last remaining sunny days of fall. Soon enough we'll be dressing in layers and our feet won't see the sun again until April. But there's still time to enjoy nature barefoot-granted, we have to wait until the sun's been out a while so our toes don't turn blue, but still. Whatever the weather is in your area, take off your shoes! Running around barefoot is something that comes naturally to most children, and is a great way to connect with nature. But, as adults, we tend to forget the simple pleasure of being barefoot.

Everything feels different when you're barefoot! Walking on a warm sidewalk, padding barefoot through the grassy lawn, and snuggling your toes into a sandy beach-all sublime experiences, to be sure. Such a great way to get in tune with the many different textures and terrains of nature. Just take off your shoes and notice how things feel. Does the grass tickle? Is the ground cold or warm? Being barefoot is so good for balance and coordination, too. There are about 20 muscles in each foot, so give them a chance to work. Shoes are necessary for many things, and in many places, but any child will tell you that tree-climbing and rock-wandering are activities best done barefooted.

101 things to do outside with children #7: Listen for nature

2011-09-13T18:39:00.000-07:00

Airplanes tearing through the sky overhead. Buses lurching to a stop, then starting again. Cars racing past. People shouting and talking. Dogs barking. Car doors slamming. Garbage trucks roaring down the street. Sirens wailing.

This is what my children and I noticed in just a few short minutes of walking through the neighborhood. last week. Granted, we live in an urban area and these kinds of noises are par for the course on any given day. Early in the morning, as we're walking to school, so much noise feels like an assault on my senses. It gives me an appetite for nature sounds.

Where you live, what kind of noises do you hear on a regular basis? How many of them are nature-based? Here in Minneapolis, it's sometimes hard to "tune out" the city sounds, and tune in the nature sounds.

The other day, when we really tried, we could hear some nature sounds, buried in among the city noises:

an angry squirrel chuck-chucking in a nearby tree,
a goldfinch twittering as it bounced through the sky,
a crow, clearing its throat,
and of course, lots of wind (we're ushering in a cold front, after all!)

Admittedly, this was really difficult! Of course, all things get easier with practice, right? We're practicing finding nature sounds now, in the mornings, when we're all still tired and especially need some gentler noises to help us greet the day.

Where you live, how hard to you have to try to find the nature sounds in the cacophony of everyday life? Can you do it?

101 things to do with children outside #6, celebrate something!

2011-09-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

This seems like a good weekend to consider how much we have to celebrate.

Children are such great teachers for us! They celebrate everything. Life is still a party, and nature is a great playing ground.

When in nature, I'm moved toward gratitude. We enjoy so many freedoms, and we have access to so many wonderful natural areas and special places in this country. Despite the political turmoil,the nightmare economy, and the environmental crises that face us, really, there is so much to celebrate. Nature can soothe the spirit and heal many emotional wounds indeed.

I encourage you to grab your family and find something to celebrate this weekend. Our city has an annual festival celebrating one of my great loves in nature: monarchs. But you don't need a festival to celebrate. (Of course, they sure do help!)

Celebrate colors, the changing seasons, a beautiful flower, a sunset. We are so lucky to live on this amazing planet at this amazing time. What can you celebrate this weekend?

101 Things to do outside with children #5: Notice something new.

2011-09-07T07:58:00.000-07:00

It's already jacket weather here in Minnesota,at least in the mornings, and that means the beginning of a whole new season for nature play.

School has started for both of my little ones, but we're still finding plenty of time to get outside. During the transition from summer to fall, or any season's change, it's a great time to heighten your awareness of what's happening outside! Of course, here in Minnesota we notice the temperature's change first, but there are so many other things going on. The leaves have just barely begun to change, as pointed out by my very astute 4 year old, J. Just look at this tree:

He called it a "half and half" tree. he pointed this out to me on our walk home through the neighborhood. We'd gone out in search of migrating monarch butterflies (and oh, we found so many!) but I was so caught up in finding butterflies I forgot to notice some other pretty amazing things. How lucky for me that he pointed it out. I would have walked right past.

Maybe in your part of the world, the seasons aren't yet changing. Or maybe they're farther along than they are here. Go outside and let your child show you what they see. Share in the discovery together.

101 Things to do outside with children: #4, Make Noise!

2011-08-24T11:00:00.000-07:00

"Shh!"

"Inside voices, please!"

"Not so loud!"

Have you considered how often children hear messages like this? There are few places these days where children can really test the limits of their own voices. How often are they given the freedom to yell, scream, sing out loud, roar? Even in outdoor spaces, it seems, there is a limit to how loud children can be. It's sad but true: we have a pretty low threshold for tolerating children's noise.

As the parent of one child who absolutely loves the strength of his own voice and the other loud sounds he can make, I am all too aware of just how often a quiet voice is expected, if not required.

I encourage you to take your favorite herd of children outside and find a nice, wide open space and be loud. You can encourage noise, or just let it happen. Many children, as a result of constantly being told to hush, find it difficult or awkward to be really loud when given the chance. So try singing, or start a game of chase where you're all animals, making crazy animal noises.

Not only is it kind of fun to make a lot of noise, it relieves tension and anxiety too! And once your children realize they are free to make noise, it's a delight to share that with them. Tonight my daughter surprised herself singing a song in a monster's voice. We need to let children experiment with their voices: loud, soft, crazy, monstery, animal-y, whatever. They deserve this freedom!

101 things to do outside with children #3: Tune in

2011-07-05T21:19:00.000-07:00

No matter where you go these days, it seems, people are always chattering on their phones or texting or facebooking, or whatever. In the grocery store, in traffic, even (gasp!) in public restrooms. I don't know what it's like in other countries, as I haven't done much international travel lately, but in America, people are constantly "connected" to their phones, computers, work, and whatever else.

We are pulled in so many directions. It's easy to be distracted. So many of us are busy multi-tasking, juggling jobs, families, hobbies, and everything else. It's difficult to give anything your full attention.

I myself am guilty of this. Until recently, my "old school" cell phone was capable only of making and receiving calls. It was fine for my needs. But when the phone finally died, and I went in to replace it, I was "upgraded" to a "smart phone" that could take pictures, surf the web, receive email, and who knows what else.

"Cool," I thought, doubting I'd ever use any of the bells and whistles. But sure enough, now that I've owned the phone for several months I am as guilty as anyone of being distracted by the blinking red light on my phone that indicates I've got email waiting to be read. It's so easy to quickly push a button and peek. I haven't counted the number of times in a day that I check, but I'd bet it's more than I'd want to admit! But what message does this send my children? What messages are we as a society sending our children when we are constantly distracted and frequently interrupting our interactions with them in favor of our phones? Can't we tune in to our children instead?

When I'm with my children, I want to be fully present to them. When we're outside, I try to be available to follow their lead, to tune in to their messages, rather than the ones on my BlackBerry. I want to let them lead me to the things they're interested in. This is difficult and yet so worthwhile. I want my children to know that their interests are important, valuable and real. I want them to know that I care about the things they care about. I want them to show me what they love, what they are curious about, where they want to be. This is the information that really matters. These messages are more important than email, facebook, or any of the other technological distractions we have at our disposal.

I'm thinking we need a "National Day of Rest" where all cell phones, ipads, and handheld gadgets automatically shut down so we can reconnect with what really matters: our children.

If we can't free ourselves for a whole day, how about 15 minutes? Try following your children out the door, and then following their cues completely. Just do it for 15 minutes. Let them decide where to go, what flowers to check out, or which rocks to collect. Let the children choose the path or decide on a picnic site. If they want to catch fireflies, catch fireflies. If they want to putter around on the sidewalk, poking at anthills with a stick, so be it. Follow their lead. Turn off your phone, put away your ipad. Be fully present--even if it's just for 15 minutes.

101 things to do...#2: Look UP!

2011-06-28T20:10:00.000-07:00

When was the last time you lay on the ground and looked up? There are so many wonderful things to see. It's one thing to tilt one's head back and look up, it's another thing entirely to actually lie down on your back, breathe deeply, and take it all in. The experience is worth savoring. Trust me.

L reminded me of the value of this vantage point recently by stopping suddenly during playtime outside and dropping to the ground on her back, under the swaying leaves of a maple tree:

"Oh, Mommy, you just have to come and lie down with me. It looks like the trees are laughing."

We tend to spend an awful lot of time on our feet. Second to that comes sitting down. But think of it-we're always looking at stuff that's in front of us, usually at eye-level. It is good to change that vantage point from time to time. Check things out from a different perspective.

It really doesn't matter where you do this: your front yard or the wilderness. Just do it. Lie down, all the way down. Take a deep breath. Feel your body being completely supported by the earth beneath you. And notice what you see: Are there clouds? Leaves overhead? What color is the sky? Do this on a hill, in a valley, near a lake, near a stream. Try it in a desert-try it wherever you are, at whatever time of day it happens to be. Just try it. Give yourself a few minutes to really relax and enjoy. Worried about bugs, or the tickling grass? Whatever-throw down a blanket and lie down on that. Do what you need to be comfortable.

Children need and deserve opportunities to quietly savor the natural world, to really "take it in" in as many ways as they can. In early childhood especially, they are developing an aesthetic awareness--that ability to quietly reflect and consider beauty. Provide them with plenty of opportunities to find beauty, in as many ways as you can. What better way to do this than to lie down quietly together and share the beauty of nature?

101 things to do outside with kids!

2011-06-22T19:16:00.000-07:00

The first day of summer was yesterday-and it inspired me to try something new with this blog. I got the idea from my friend Tiffany, who did something similar on her awesome blog, Art Food AND Motherhood. She is a fabulous, creative wonder and has been my dear friend for years. On her blog she lists 365 creative and artistic activities to do with and for children.

I'm hereby officially committing to post on this blog, 101 things to do outside with kids.

Since summer is such an "easy" time for most people to get outdoors, lots of these ideas won't come as a huge challenge to many of you, but for some of you they might. Either way, hopefully there will be some ideas and inspiration here for you to get outside with your own children (or others) and try something new.

Remember, you don't have to be doing something "productive" outside for the time to matter. In fact, for the most part, the "less" you are doing, the better the experience. But I hope to offer a few suggestions and examples of fun outdoor things to try, many of which will be free or cost very little in terms of either money, supplies, or time. I want to make it easy and fun for you. I'd love to hear your suggestions and ideas, too. What are your favorite ways to spend time outside with children?

So, without further ado, I present, #1: Wait for a rainstorm.

During breakfast this morning, as the sky rather suddenly filled with clouds, my ever-observant 3 year old said, "Looks like it's going to rain soon!"

Like most young children, mine are both fascinated by and a bit afraid of thunderstorms. All that noise, wind, and lightning can be a bit much, especially at night. Just the other night both my children woke up screaming after a particularly loud clap of thunder that threatened to crack the windows. But a rainstorm during the day, ah, now that's a different story altogether. They love the huge raindrops, and we have enjoyed many rainwalks and puddle dances together during summers past. But most of our daytime storm-savoring has happened outside during the rainstorms, rather than experiencing the energy and excitement of a storm to come.

This morning, since we had both the luxury of time, and the good fortune of knowing the storm was coming, I thought it would be fun to head outside and just experience the feeling of the storm growing closer. It's such an exciting time, when a thunderstorm in approaching, with all the wind, and the clouds, and the change in temperature. I wanted them to experience this anticipation first-hand. We headed out, but only after L and J had donned their "protective suits" (blankies!) wrapped snugly over their shoulders.

I brought out a little mint tea and we sipped, and noticed the way the leaves on all the different trees behave in the wind. Some leaves really shake and "act frantic" (L's words) and others wave only slightly, despite the strong wind. We watched the clouds fill the sky, and grow darker and darker. We felt the wind in our hair and watched it billow and pull on the kids' blankets when they held them up in the air. We listened to the windchimes going wild. We watched the grass in the neighbor's yard ripple like waves on the water as the warm wind blew across it.

We sipped our tea and we waited. The wind kept getting stronger, the temperature dropped quickly, giving all of us goosebumps, and finally, the rain came!

I'd love to hear your ideas for sharing nature with children.

All wet

2011-06-21T19:31:00.000-07:00

Some delightful neighborhood children were at our house playing yesterday afternoon, and since the weather was hot, I sent the children outside, where they belong. As I said, it was hot. And my kids aren't fools--they know how to cool off! In no time at all, L and J had turned on the hose and were positively rejoicing in the spray of water. They took turns making rainbows with the water spray, playing "limbo" under the stream from the hose nozzle, and spraying each other like crazy.

The neighborhood girls tentatively joined in and a game of "who can get the wettest" soon followed. Of course, within minutes all children were soaked through and through. Completely wrung-out, fell-into-a-lake wet. There was much smiling and laughter coming from the backyard. Until the neighbor kids' mom arrived.

Suffice it to say, she was not happy. Her children were drenched, and despite my offer to send them home in dry clothes, she promptly shooed them out of my back yard and they marched off down the street. No terse words were exchanged, but the sound of her voice and the look on her face when she arrived said plenty. Then, when her own daughter sprayed her, I had to stifle a giggle myself.

Oops.

Now, granted, I probably should have called to check with her before letting the kids play with the hose. (Should I have?) But in my opinion, a little spontaneous water play is a perfectly harmless thing-one of the great childhood joys. Remember those days, when summer was hot, and you were hot, and you just had to cool off, so you got in the pool, or the pond, or ran through a neighbor's sprinkler, clothes and all? Planning ahead, changing into swimsuits, these things all have their time and place, but really, when it comes right down to it, half the fun is the feeling of "getting away with something" and getting wet in your clothes, isn't it? These kids were having a great time, and feeling a little mischevious, which makes it all that much better.

When was the last time YOU got your clothes wet? It's something we adults avoid at all costs-think of the pains we take to stay dry: umbrellas, raincoats, dashing from car to house or parking lot to grocery store, newspaper over our heads to protect us from the rain. What's the harm in water?

Why not take a lesson from our children and savor the feeling of spontaneity?

At last, a return to blogging!

2011-05-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

I'm finally back! It took a random comment from a reader who stumbled upon this blog from a link in the Children and Nature Network. I'm finally back to the blog. It's been an exciting year, to say the least. The family and I relocated (temporarily) to a Chicago suburb, and I've been frantically unpacking, learning the lay of the land, and working on my first manuscript!

My book is "Early Childhood Activities for a Greener Earth" and it's due out in March 2012. I've been working hard and am so thrilled to have this opportunity.

I'm also thrilled to finally have a little time left for returning to this blog, something I've loved, but that has fallen by the wayside in recent months.

Other exciting news is on the way! Thanks for checking back!

Rush hour

2010-11-17T07:27:00.001-08:00

I'm currently out of coffee, so this was not one of my better mornings, parenting-wise.

I coaxed, I nagged, then finally bullied the kids into putting away their legos and eating breakfast. I rushed them to get dressed, and then crabbed at them as I zipped, snapped, and velcroed all the assorted winter gear. Finally, we spilled out into the backyard. The kids wandered in a daze, stomping on the chunks of snow, kicking frozen leaves.

I unlocked the car doors, barking, "Come on, guys, get in the car!" and L was standing next to the patch of ground where we started a little flower garden over the summer. "In the car!" I said again.

"But Mommy, I want to show you something!!" she pleaded.

"OK, honey, I'll look at it after you get in the car." I said, buckling J into the car seat.

"No, I want to look at it with you" she said quietly.

Huffy, I walked over to where she was standing.

"Look!" She said in a stage whisper. "The little purple flowers we planted are still there!" She was utterly delighted, thrilled that the flowers were still there, despite the recent snow and frosty mornings.

For children, these little discoveries in nature are so important, and they become even more special when shared with a caring adult. In our constant rushing around, it's easy to lose touch with that, to forget to notice and share the special discoveries our children are so good at finding. Or to dismiss them in favor of other more pressing things.

But allowing children (and ourselves!) the time to make these discoveries is such a gift. Being geninely interested in sharing those discoveries is the best way to honor a child's curiosity and wonder. We honor our children's relationships with nature when we value the discoveries they make. We honor our children's abilities to make discoveries, to notice things. To be curious.

I'm so grateful to my daughter for calling me back to what's important. I'm so glad she took the time to stop and notice, despite my rushing and griping. And I'm glad I took the time to share the discovery with her.

Even if it did make us late for school.

we're back!

2010-11-16T20:15:00.000-08:00

It's good news that I've been so busy with work demands-there is a huge interest in the "children and nature" movement and I've had lots of interesting and inspiring conversations and lots of great work. I'm just finishing up with teaching a University class on Children and Nature, which has been wonderful but very time-consuming. The Bad news here is that-maybe you noticed the 6 month lapse?- my writing has taken a back seat. I'm hoping to change that.

Recently I attended a workshop on the Reggio Emilia approach to early childhood education, and I'm so intrigued. It's an approach that embraces art and creativity and where the interests of children drive the explorations of the class. I am thinking about how my work as a science educator can be influenced by this approach. I'm also very interested in learning more about how Reggio responds to the natural world, where it makes room for children to connect with nature.

Here at home, we've been enjoying the first snowfall of the season. Dug out the winter gear and hit the slopes for an afternoon of sledding. I'm convinced there is no better way to unleash one's "inner child" than by jumping on a sled in fresh snow.

Screaming Lemurs

2010-06-30T19:33:00.001-07:00

When I was a small girl of about 5, I stood outside the Ostrich Yard at the local zoo and poked my finger through the chain-link fence, awed by the huge bird blinking at me. (these were the "old days" of zoos, when one could do such things) In a flash, the ostrich pecked at my finger and I screamed. I was scooped up into the safety of my dad's arms, all the while screaming.

That is one of my earliest "animal memories." Young children learn so much from their early contact with animals, and some of these interactions can have powerful effects. I love birds and always have, and while I'm not sure this particular incident, er, hatched that love, it certainly made an impression on me. I've never forgotten it. It was the sheer intensity of that experience that made an impression. In a very startling instant, that ostrich went from being something completely disconnected from me to something that was very real, and in fact was interacting directly with me. Early animal interactions can have many "hidden" effects, many positive. Perhaps most importantly, they show children that animals are independent beings, with thoughts, feelings, and reasons all their own. They aren't playthings, displays, or inanimate objects. They're real. They do things, sometimes unexpected things.

Today at the zoo, my kids were looking at a branch covered in lemurs. Now, L in particular has never liked primates much. In fact, she's expressed an actual dislike and fear of them on more than one occasion. She prefers less human-looking animals. So I was impressed with her curiosity about the lemurs. (Lemurs are primates, although less monkey-looking than other primates)

The kids and I stood watching for a few minutes while two Red-Ruffed Lemurs groomed each other on a branch. We speculated about what they might be doing, why they'd be licking each other's faces like that. We guessed what their fur would feel like. We marveled at their long, sleek tails.

Then suddenly, the lemurs both looked at us, with their huge, pinprick eyes. They opened their sharp-toothed little mouths and emitted a shriek like someone's throat was being cut. One of them lept off the branch as it screamed.

Seized with a primal terror, both kids shook and clung to me, one on each leg. They buried their faces in my legs, howling and crying. I rubbed their heads and stood there dumbfounded. (I've never heard a lemur and wow, what a strange noise they make!)

Despite the other, cuter, more "kid-friendly" animals we saw at the zoo, the one thing the kids talked about all day long, was the noise the "monkeys" made. All the way home, despite my probing questions:

"What was your favorite animal?" "What was the best part of the day?" "What do you want to see again?"----the kids were completely stuck on the darn lemurs. The scream. The way their "eyes popped out" when they screamed. Their sharp teeth.

It is very likely that this will be one of those "early animal memories" for my kids. It was powerful, surprising, and emotionally intense. They are still talking about it.

Summer Solstice

2010-06-21T19:03:00.000-07:00

Happy Summer Solstice!
I hope you have a beautiful summer. It's been an amazing spring for us, with lots of travel to the North Woods and plenty of time outside.

I promise, PROMISE to check in again in a day or so...fun stuff cooking...

Slick

2010-05-20T18:47:00.000-07:00

"Mama, did you know there's a crack at the bottom of the ocean and there's oil spilling out? I heard it on the news. "

"Yes, honey, I did hear about that." I responded. "How do you feel about that?"

"I feel very sorry." She said.

"Me too." I replied.

So far, this is the first time I've heard one of my children talk about global environmental crises. Despite the overwhelming realities of climate change, deforestation, and endangered species, and the looming issues of water quality, air pollution and toxic chemicals in the food we eat --and despite the fact that one of my jobs is to educate people about these very issues--I've done my best to keep my kids blissfully unaware of tragedies like these. Here is an excellent essay by Sandra Steingraber, an ecologist and environmentalist and mother-and her take on how to approach tragedies.

I am of the very firm opinion that early childhood should be a time of play, wonder, and delight in the natural world. Kids are not developmentally ready to handle frightening realities such as those I listed above, until about age 8 or so. At around age 8, some important things are happening developmentally:
First, a child's sense that she can have a big impact on her environment really starts to kick in: finally,they can understand that we have a certain amount of power and responsibility to take care of these problems, that the problems may be bigger than us, but we can affect them.
Second, they are finally old enough to not be completely afraid and overwhelmed upon learning of these problems.

If you tell a 4-year old all about the oil spill, and the resulting millions of critters that are going to die as a result, and the resulting thousands of people whose lives will be made profoundly worse as a result of this crisis, what is she to do with that information, really? She might be able to have a conversation with you about it, but what's happening in her heart?

Think about it: in early childhood they are just beginning to get a sense of their own power in the world. So many things are much, much bigger than they are. So many things are out of their control. They deeply love animals and people. To hear about something very far away, that's completely out of their control, that is causing death and destruction (or, worse, to see images of this occuring) can be powerfully frightening for children.

In his fantastic book "Ecophobia" one of my favorite authors, David Sobel, says, "No tragedies before the third grade."

How can children be asked or expected to save anything (the planet!) before they're given the chance to know it, and to love it? They can't. They need to have experiences that foster feelings of love and connection to the natural world. These are the very feelings that motivate and inspire the kinds of actions that are needed to combat Earth's problems. Only after children have been steeped in love for the natural world during that formative and important time of early childhood, only then should we introduce these issues, with care, and humility, and -yes-even optimism.

Until then, let's plant the seeds of love and delight, so that our children can be ready to take action when the time comes. But let's not rush it.

runaway

2010-05-10T10:40:00.000-07:00

Recently, on a walk in the woods, L got mad at me and ran away. She took off down a trail. I waited about 3 minutes before doing anything, figuring she'd get just out of sight, realize how far she'd gone, and come back.

She didn't.

Slightly freaked, I set off down the trail and finally caught up with her. There were a few moments of real panic there, when I got to a fork in the trail and realized I couldn't see her. At all. When I found her, she was on the trail, but she had run past two other trails and frankly, I think I just got lucky when I took the same trail she did.

For reasons I'm still trying to sort out, I was fairly sputtering with rage by the time I caught up to her. Underneath the anger is fear, of course. But my mind is churning, and my heart is churning.

I like to think that I'm pretty easygoing when it comes to safety concerns outside. I've written about risk here and here. I've given it a great deal of thought.

And really, I'm surprised at how strong my reaction to this was. Of course, running away is a pretty big no-no. And the possibility (remote though it is) was there that she could have gotten lost, or hurt and I wouldn't have been able to find her.

But how much risk was there, really, in running off? Chances are, I would have been able to find her. Chances are, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Then again, she's only 4. Things happen.

But here's the thing: After days of thinking about this, I don't think my problem here is that she ran away outside. It's not that fact that is pushing my buttons. I am just not OK with either of my kids just getting mad and running away. Not in a grocery store, and not in a crowded public place, and no, not even the woods.

What it comes down to is this: the fact that I got scared has little to do with the fact that we were "out in nature" when it happened. It has everything to do with the fact that she took off, far out of sight, and for a few terrifying moments, I couldn't find my daughter.

Superheroes

2010-05-04T23:20:00.000-07:00

The kids, playing in the living room and chatting about some media characters they've become vaguely familiar with as of late:

"Mommy, do you know why he's called Batman?"

"uh, why?"

"Because he loves Bats! and Spiderman is called that because he loves spiders!"

Imagination-1
Mass Media-0

The answer, my friends, is blowin' in the wind...

2010-04-27T18:35:00.000-07:00

Ahh, spring.

With apologies to my allergic friends, I can think of few things better than being outside on a breezy spring day. Just watching the leaves fluttering in the wind, listening to the sounds. And feeling the wind in one's hair.

Did you know that wind is created when warmer air and cooler air are "trading places?" (Actually, the gases in the atmosphere are "equalizing pressure") Maybe you know that spring is particularly windy because -at least in our part of the world-we have "warm fronts"--large, long stretches of warmer air replacing cooler air.

Well, anyway. The fun is in watching and experiencing the wind, no?

This week, while you're outside, try these things to help you and your kids really savor the breezes and the moving spring air:

Choose a tree that you love and then lie down under it. Let yourselves be mesmerized by watching the leaves flutter and blow.

Choose a tree that you love and then climb it. Let yourselves be mesmerized by being among the leaves as they flutter and blow.

How else can you watch the wind? Think of water, of seeds traveling on air, of sand moving. Pinwheels! Who doesn't love pinwheels?

Listen to the sounds of wind. Experiment with different things: You may choose to hang a windchime, a crisp flag, or you could even poke a stick through a paper bag and create a windsock. How many sounds can the wind make?

Can you feel the wind on your face, your hair? Close your eyes and turn into the wind. Open your arms.

What words can you use to describe wind? There are gentle winds, whispery winds, fierce winds, growling howling winds, and even, to quote my daughter, "lonely winds"

reason for hope

2010-04-20T08:24:00.001-07:00

Last night I had the amazing opportunity to hear Dr. Jane Goodall speak. She is truly an inspiration.

She gave a very compelling and inspiring speech about why she has hope for our future, and how she can manage to stay hopeful in the face of overwhelming destruction of the earth's resources.

Her 4 "reasons for hope" are:
1. The Human Brain--marvelous in its capacity for creativity and innovation, she believes we WILL stop harming the earth and reverse the damage already done;
2. The Indomitable Human Spirit--that capacity we have for compassion, altruism, and love that WILL guide us to making the right choices, and inspire others to do the same;
3. The Resilience of Nature--nature's ability to be re-born after seemingly impossible odds and the ability of populations to return after reaching the brink of extinction;
4. The Determination of Young People--she has created a worldwide network of young people involved in environmental projects. If you're a teacher, you MUST check out Roots and Shoots, and get your students involved. This is an incredible movement and involves a huge number of people. What a way to let the young people in your life know they are not alone in their concern for the environment, and what better way to let them know by empowering them to work together.

Dr Jane Goodall, the woman, is incredible. She's 76 years old, she travels over 300 days every year, spreading the message of hope and working tirelessly for the environment. She started working as a field biologist at 26 years old, and has done more work for chimps than probably anyone else on the planet. She is an ambassador for animal welfare and a UN Messenger of Peace.

But the thing that struck me the most last night was her vivid description of being a little girl. She spent a summer on her uncle's farm in the countryside of England. She was thrilled to be in such close contact with animals.

She shared a memory of "disappearing" for an entire day-hoping to catch a chicken in the act of laying an egg. When Jane finally returned home, rather than get angry and scold her, her mother sat down and listened intently as Jane regaled her with an exciting tale of her thrilling discovery. Her mother was enthusiastic and loving and believed in the importance of letting Jane make discoveries and explore nature. Throughout her speech, she mentioned her mother's support and encouragement as the single most powerful, guiding force in her life. Thanks to her mom, Jane said, she had the courage to dream of living in the jungles of Africa, and later, thanks again to her mom's love and support, she accomplished this dream and is now literally changing the world.

Won't it be wonderful when all parents and all educators can be a beacon of support and encouragement for our children as they make their own connections to the natural world! Just imagine what could happen!

a captive audience

2010-04-08T09:16:00.000-07:00

When I told the kids we were going to the Nature Center last week, they wanted to know if it was the one "where the snake lives"--we've visited this particular nature center many, many times and there is indeed a very large fox snake living there in a huge tank. Despite the perfect weather, as soon as we got to the nature center, the kids rushed straight inside.

They stood in awe as the snake lay there. They looked at it, watched it "crawl" up the sides of the tank.

The Nature Center director saw their interest and got the snake out so the kids could touch it. They each stuck out a tiny, tentative finger and stroked the snake's back gently. Neither child said a word, they just stood there, "petting" the snake for a few minutes, until the director had to move on to more pressing tasks. They silently watched her put the snake back into it's cage and then we went outside to play. They spent the afternoon "looking for snakes" in the leaves and stick piles.

For days afterward, they made snakes out of everything: scarves, spaghetti, and even blocks. There is a poster of snakes on J's wall and the kids traced the ribbony bodies each night with their fingers before going to bed.

Those of you who remember my old blog may recall this post I did after a trip to the zoo. I've made no secret of my misgivings about captive animals, particularly those in zoos: it seems they often lead depressing, incomplete lives and I find it really sad to encounter them.Then again, contact with "real live animals" can be literally life-changing for some people. It was for me. This is an issue I've had to sort out over the years, and my perspective has changed since I had kids. Funny how that works.

Also,I've spent many years working in nature centers myself, tending to all manner of captive animals: snakes, salamanders, turtles, even the occasional bird of prey. I've seen time and time again how direct contact with a "wild" animal can ignite something in a child: a curiosity and zeal for learning. A newfound interest in that animal. A collapse of fear about that animal, or others like it. Even, of course, a sense of connection.

Many nature center and even zoo animals are "non-releasable" for a number of reasons which could include permanent injury, physiological differences from native populations, too much time in captivity, etc. so-- is a life in a small, cramped cage better than death? Is it worth it to "sacrifice" one animal (by keeping it in captivity) if it serves as an ambassador of sorts, opening the minds of children and adults alike? What effect does it have on you or your kids to see captive animals? How do you feel about it?

These are really, really difficult questions.

I've arrived at my own conclusions. What are yours?

10 ways to welcome spring

2010-03-19T11:29:00.000-07:00

As if we need some reminding of the wonderful ways to embrace springtime!
Here are ten ways to welcome the season, in no particular order:

10. Lie in the grass. Put down a blanket if it's too soggy.
9. Just close your eyes and feel the sunshine on your skin. Count to ten. Breathe.
8. Climb a tree.
7. Listen for birdsong. (yesterday I heard my first robin of the year!)
6. Notice the buds on the tree branches. They are getting bigger!
5. Leave your jacket inside.
4. Get your rain boots on and go wading in the nearest lake, creek, or stream.
3. Pack a picnic lunch and eat outside
2. Pay attention to your sense of smell. There are so many things to smell in the springtime, as the snow melts, the ground warms, the buds grow.
1. Join us at a Nature Playgroup.

Leaving it to the parents

2010-03-14T19:48:00.001-07:00

We're school shopping. Not in the sense of buying clothes and supplies, but we're doing that now-familiar to me ritual of spring-thinking about where the kids will be attending school next year. They're only going to be in Kindergarten and preschool, but this is what I do. I shop around.

L's current preschool is nice, beautiful, and they do a wonderful job with their outdoor area. For an urban school, it's a pretty large play space, with a few "traditional" pieces of play equipment, (swingset, monkey bars) but it's filled with natural features too: logs, shrubs to hide behind, large rocks and hills to play on. They are outside for about an hour each day. This school goes through 8th grade, and we may well keep her there.

We just haven't yet "settled" on a place for the kids to attend school. We dearly love L's school, and she will likely attend Kindergarten there next year. But, you know me, I love to explore my options, and I have just enough of an education/science background and just enough of an obsession with nature education that I'm a bit...well...picky. And I have pretty high expectations.

Here's how our process seems to go: I pick a school that I like, one that has an educational philosophy that I believe in/agree with/understand. I read book after book on that particular educational approach. I study the pros and cons. I talk to colleagues who teach, for their opinions on the approach. I look at how (or if) said school integrates nature into the curriculum, into the day. We visit the school. I pelt the teacher or principal with questions. All of which are along the lines of "Can I check out your outdoor play area?" "How long are the kids outside every day?" "How many times a day do they go out?" "What's your approach to nature education?"

Here are the responses I got last week from two schools. Both Montessori schools. Montessori, in case you didn't know, is an educational approach which emphasizes strong ties to the natural world, a deep appreciation for nature and "authentic" experiences in nature. Seems like a perfect fit?

When I asked how often the children go outside, one enrollment coordinator told me: (she actually said this!) "Children who come for a half day usually don't go outside at all. We leave that to the parents."

On to the next school. This visit occured last week, during one of our rainy, 40 degree days. Huge puddles everywhere, snow melting like crazy, a perfect day to be outside.

"How often would you say the children get outside?" I asked innocently.

"Oh they go outside pretty often." Ms. Tour Guide beamed. "Except, you know, when it's like this. Or really cold.You know, if the weather's lousy."

Who decides what constitutes "lousy" weather? I wanted to ask. Where's your weather policy written?

I'm so frustrated.

Why do schools "leave it to the parents?" Why is there so little value placed on getting kids outside-in all kinds of weather, every day? I know about barriers, I know why teachers don't do this stuff. But please, somebody, tell me, when is this going to change? Why do schools not get this?

BEING OUTSIDE IN NATURE IS IMPORTANT. It is good for brain development. It is good for physical development. It is good for the soul. Now why on earth is something with so many benefits not an integral part of every day, in every classroom around the country?

Clearly, people, we've got our work cut out for us.

Making a splash

2010-03-07T20:21:00.000-08:00

I picked up a very soggy and sad little girl at preschool last friday. She and her friend had been playing chase when she lost her footing and "took a dive" as she put it, into a very large, very deep, and very cold puddle of mud. Her teacher brought her inside and dried her off as best she could, changed her clothes, gave her some warm tea to drink. Despite the fact that L loves mud more than anyone I know (including me)-this was a pretty big bummer. She was really upset.

It reminded me of a time when I was very young, at preschool, and a girl swept her whole arm across the grimy plastic turtle pond and splashed me in the face with fetid water. I was mortified. I remember being whisked inside, the teachers reacting with horror as they helped me dry my face and hair. I remember feeling sick to my stomach every time I saw the turtle pond after that-getting splashed was just too scary and had freaked me out too much. But I didn't talk to anyone about it. Something about those teachers and the way they acted made me feel ashamed. I had gotten so dirty, the water was yucky, and I stank. From then on, I was terrified of that girl, Maude, who had splashed me.

L told me the story of her "dive" twice during the short drive home from school. Later I heard her telling J the story a third time. Apart from this, she was quiet for much of the afternoon. She hadn't been hurt during the fall, apart from a scrape on the palm of her hand. I don't think "her ego was bruised" as one particularly, er, obtuse relative has suggested. Over the course of the weekend, I have overheard her retelling this story to four other people. She's not "looking for attention" (yes, same relative)--I think she's really just taking her time to process this event.

And you know? Losing your balance and falling into a puddle is a pretty big deal when you're such a small girl. And when that puddle is cold, muddy, and deep, it's an even bigger deal. But I think my role here is not to place value on the experience (as good, bad, scary, whatever)--I think my role is just to be a space where she can re-tell, and sort out her many feelings about the event. I'm not casually passing it off as a minor thing, nor am I blowing it up to traumatic scale. I'm trying to just listen. She tells me it was scary, I ask her what she did to feel better. She tells me it was cold, I ask her how she warmed up. She shows me the muddy stains on her jacket. I nod and we talk a little more.

It was an unexpected, startling and, for her, scary thing. And she's working it out. She needs to keep talking about it, keep replaying that experience over and over through retelling, needs to keep showing us her "owie." At some point, this will no longer be necessary, but until then, I'll keep listening.

a migration of sorts

2010-03-04T21:50:00.001-08:00

My educational consulting and training business has been growing in leaps and bounds-if you didn't know I had a business, check out my website to learn more. (I'll still be posting to the blog often, so keep checking back. Just had to share the exciting news.)

www.smallwondersmn.com

I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks for checking it out.

How to be a total drag

2010-02-23T18:45:00.000-08:00

Let me just start by admitting this: I have been a total grump all day for no good reason at all. Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess, and we have run out of decent coffee. Despite our best efforts, we all have cabin fever, I'm stressed about some work stuff, and the kids are a little, shall we say, tired of each other. So it's been a rough day over here. Perfect day to be outside, running off the extra energy, breathing some fresh air, right?

After spending the entire day putting off the kids' constant requests to go outside (I was busy trying to get work and projects done around the house, and stay on top of some work-related email)-I finally relented just before dinnertime.

The kids gleefully pulled on their snowpants, boots, hats, mittens, scarves, etc, while I got the dog hooked up with her leash and "gentle leader" and pulled on my own boots.

Bringing along a huge dog who has been cooped up and is also tired of staring at the inside of the house. Not a brilliant choice, given my mood.

We trudged outside and I tried-I really did-to bump up my own mood a bit. The kids were pushing their strollers around on the sidewalk and laughing as the dog pushed her face into snowpile after snowpile. I managed a half-hearted smile, despite being totally annoyed at the dog, who is way too big and lively for my liking these days. The kids trotted along, singing, while Nina yanked me around on the icy sidewalks. I didn't fall but merely had my leg and shoulder ripped from their respective sockets when some guy with a Wheaten Terrier walked by and Nina went completely nuts.

After that graceful incident, we approached a huge snowbank. I mean huge. This is the pile of snow that's been plowed out of our neighboring parking lot all winter long. It's probably a story and a half high.

L set her stroller aside and started to size it up.

Me: "No, don't go up there right now. This isn't a snowbank climbing expedition. This is a walk. Now let's walk." (Feel free to insert your own impression of my crabby, irritated, whining voice.)

After hemming and hawing a little bit she finally gave in. We walked a little bit further.

"I know!" She yelled. "Let's just run around this parking lot for a while! That would be fun!" and so the children proceeded to ditch the strollers and run in circles in a parking lot.

I don't know what I did at this point, I probably let out an enormous sigh and rolled my eyes. (I know! What's wrong with me?!)

I grumbled and grouched for a while and then finally hit the wall when they found a shin-deep puddle of near-frozen water and started jumping into it, then sat down in it.

Most days, I would be fine with this. Might even encourage it. But today? Oh, Lordy, not today.

So where did I go wrong? I was thinking about this while making our dinner tonight (which by the way was also uninspired and underwhelming.) I talk with folks all the time about barriers to enjoying the outdoors with kids, and I think hit a pretty good number of them today. (Barriers, not people.)

I wasn't in the mood, first and foremost. But this one can go either way. Sometimes you have to get outside and start breathing the fresh air before you get in the mood. On rare occasions, even that has no effect. I did try to "suck it up" for the kids' sake, who were so hungry for the outdoors today. But I just couldn't seem to do it.

Next: waiting until the end of the day? Come on. Anyone with kids out there knows that the dinner hour is a tough one for everyone concerned. Meanwhile I was stressed about housework, and work work and what I was going to make for dinner and trying not to get pulled over by the dog. Sometimes it's just hard to let go of that stuff. None of these things felt so large or important this morning, when I was fresh, well-fed, and ready for a day of fun. Wish I had seized the moment earlier, when we were all in good moods.

Finally, I was cold. I had neglected to put on a hat, or mittens, or snowpants. I was wearing thin cotton pants and a coat. It wasn't brutal outside today, but the weather still warrants a fair bit of gear if you're going to be comfortable outside.

And here's the worst part: personally dragging my childrens' mood from elated to grumpy, in about ten minutes flat. Really, I had no idea how bossy and un-fun I can be! Sheesh.

Loose Parts

2010-02-15T19:02:00.000-08:00

Rocks. Sticks. Leaves.

Who would have thought these items would one day acheive near-celebrity status in the toy world?

There is a growing appreciation among early childhood educators that so-called "open-ended" toys, or "loose parts" (that is, things with no designated role or purpose, objects that can easily be adapted to be any sort of plaything your child imagines) are good for the brain and good for children's play. They are said to help foster creativity, collaboration with others, and sensory awareness. They allow children opportunities to discover and master their environment (by naming things and then assigning them roles)

Eureka!

Child development geeks would call this "naming and mastering their environment;" L and J would call it "making a choo-choo train"

Any toy with no pre-assigned "job" is considered a "loose part"--blocks, stuff from nature, buttons, you get the idea. Things like rubber bugs, cars, and games would not be considered "open-ended" or "loose parts" because these toys were developed to have one specific role in child's play, therefore they tend to be used by children in only one way. (i.e as a bug, a car, or a game) Make sense?

I completely agree: my own children tend to assign a huge variety of roles to their rocks, pinecones, or blocks. The cars tend to always have the role of cars. The trains have never been anything but trains.

I have yet to see a bag of pinecones for sale at the huge toy store (though they are available online) but many child care settings and preschools are beginning to embrace this notion about loose parts. Teachers are replacing the molded plastic toys in their sensory tables with items from nature. Open-ended toys are brought out during free play time instead of toys with pre-determined roles.

Parents can encourage play with open-ended toys by simply making them more accessible in the home. Put the blocks and the nature objects in a prominent place, and make the "programmed" toys a bit harder to get at. When you're outside, think about what's available to you now. Snow is the ultimate "loose part" --what about icicles, snowballs, or branches?

What are your child's favorite open-ended toys? Tell me about a special way they have been used...

We interrupt your daily schedule to bring you....

2010-02-08T20:58:00.001-08:00

This afternoon, in the midst of another days-long snowstorm, as the snow was just pouring out of the sky, we set out on our afternoon's destinations: a few errands, then dance class. As soon as we stepped outside, though, we all stopped in our tracks.

"Ooooh!" they both roared, in unison. The kids stood in the snow and leaned their heads waaay back to feel those huge snowflakes falling on their faces. I overheard L tell a tentative J "It's OK to get some on your tongue, try it." Silently, they marveled as the flakes fell. Just then, I knew the day was too good to miss. Dance class? It'll happen again next week. Groceries? I was sure we could scrounge something up for dinner. The library? Well, the books are already overdue, what's one more day?

Then we spent a lovely two hours digging snow caves, sliding on snowdrifts, rolling in the snow, eating the snow, and even shoveling a little bit of snow. It was utterly enchanting.

Are you ever able to supersede your "regularly scheduled routine" in favor of outdoor play? It can be difficult, and so many of us are frankly tired of the winter by now, it's not always easy to muster up the enthusiasm to go sledding again. But when you have some extra-special weather to deal with, like today, this monster snowstorm with huge, fat flakes? Can you let yourself -and your kids-just drop the routine and play? When you get a huge rainstorm, sheets and sheets of rain, can you just skip the chores or the usual stuff and go outside and savor it? Or on that first, exploding, gorgeous day when it finally feels like spring, can you forget about your errands and your housework and your appointments and just let the day take over?

If not now, when?

Excitement

2010-02-06T09:37:00.000-08:00

This weekend I'm attending a conference for Lutheran Early Childhood Educators--so many of whom are interested in, committed to, and inspired by nature education. I attended a presentation all about Play--the value of it, and how we as educators and parents have a responsibility to preserve kids outdoor play.

The folks at this conference are sharing ideas and resources about how to increase kids' exposure to the outdoors-doing everything from Butterfly Rearing Projects to landscaping and everything in between.

This is so exciting to me, to see this momentum and enthusiasm in the field of early childhood education. Most of these teachers are open-minded and willing to try new things, and this is different than the climate I experienced, say, 5 years ago.

Used to be that there was a lot of convincing necessary to get educators "on board" with the need for nature and outdoor play. No more. People are starting to "get it." They are willing to try to make nature a part of their setting, their surroundings, and their schedules.

I applaud educators who believe in the benefits of nature for children. Parents too-those who continue to ensure that children (your own, others) have access to and time in the outdoors. It really does make a difference! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Bug-eyed birds make me crazy.

2010-01-27T19:17:00.000-08:00

My kids recently received a handful of those oh-so-popular toy animals: tiny things, about 3 inches high, with huge heads and enormous eyes. They look like deformed aliens. And they have accessories, like hair ribbons, hats, glasses and there is even a little sun visor that J's lizard wears.

Much to my chagrin, the kids LOVE these things. These crazy, stupid little animals have moved into our dollhouse, and they go for endless rides on J's fire trucks. They take baths with the kids, go on imaginary trips to the grocery store together.

I'm glad the kids are having fun. Thrilled that they are using them for endless creative adventures.

But, come on now, what is it with toys? Why can't animals look like animals?

Why are animals-just as they are-seemingly "not enough" for kids? Look around any toy store, you'll see few if any realistic looking animals. Look for animals native to Minnesota or the northern hemisphere, and you'll either pull your hair out in frustration, or you'll find yourself in a so-called "natural toy store" shelling out big bucks for charming, hand-carved,heirloom-quality wooden creatures.

Here's what you will find:
- The toy animals that are available are, more often than not, tied to media in one way or another, whether it's popular cartoons, or books, movies, etc.
- The animals also generally have a whole arsenal of additional "stuff" such as clothing, townhomes, amusement park rides, or vehicles. These are things which, I am sure, animals in real life do not have.
- The animals generally do not even look like animals. They are often found in very strange colors, they might have psychedelic hair, huge heads, or other distorted features that, if encountered in real-life would set off a scientific sh**storm.
- I've also noticed that their facial expressions are generally designed to make the animals look either 1) sinister: red eyes, long teeth, and the like; 2)stupid: buck teeth, crossed eyes, big butt; or 3) sexy: long eyelashes, a hint of cleavage, and racy accessories like short shorts or midriff tops.

I want my kids to have access to authentic images of animals. Is that too much to ask?

I want my children to play with animals that look like like real animals, the kind that they might see around the great state in which we live. I want them to have toys which demonstrate a respect for animals, toys that don't depict animals as stupid or evil or any of the things I mentioned above. I want them to be inspired to create adventures that aren't some confusing amalgam of human/animal experiences. I want them to hold these animal toys, look at them, and then think about actual, real animals.

I believe this will give them more connection for the natural world than will, say, a big-headed turtle who roller skates. And isn't that one of the reasons children play with toys? To make sense of the world around them?

Am I overthinking this? You tell me.

Win a few, lose a few

2010-01-16T19:54:00.000-08:00

So, what do you do when you wake up on an absolutely splendid morning-sunshine, white snow, and temperatures so high you don't even need mittens? Well, you bundle up your kids, and head outside of course!

After wrapping and tucking my kids into layers of down and capilene and wind-proof fabric and fleece, I stuffed 'em into their car seats, then plied them with cheetos and juice to keep them happy on the road. Finally we arrived at our destination and I extracted a rather grumpy two year old from the car seat and plopped him in front of his beaming big sister, who was eagerly waiting for him in the big blue sled, in which I was happily planning to pull them around in the morning sunshine. I had gone maybe four inches when he started complaining that he was cold. (What? Cold? But it's almost 35 degrees!)

I picked him up. Screams increased, made more intense by the wide open space. I tried to put his mittens on his hands. His fingers were wadded up into balls, and he thrashed and screamed and yanked his hands away.

"I want more Cheeto's! I want to go inside! I want to go home!" He screeched. "I'm cold!"

L was still in the sled, pulling in armloads of snow, happily burying herself while she watched the drama unfold.

J cried. He screamed. I tried to put him back in the sled. He flopped out, then exploded with rage when he got snow on his bare hands. He screamed some more. I picked him up. He screamed.

"I'm cold! I want to go home! I want to go inside, can we go inside!" I urged him to try walking. He flailed around a bit, then begged me to pick him back up.

Feeling torn and guilty, I looked at L who was happy and would have stayed outside all day if I'd let her. I tried again to convince J that this was fun.

Who was I kidding? He wasn't having fun. He was cold. He wanted to go inside. I quietly resigned myself to this: It's just not worth it,this is not fun for him right now, no matter what I do/tell him/try.

What do you do when, despite your best efforts to make everyone warm, well fed and comfortable, someone just is not up for an outdoor adventure?

You go inside.

Thank goodness I have an understanding 4-year old.

Come Out and Play

2010-01-13T20:02:00.000-08:00

Can you find my daughter in this picture?

If you're like most of us here in the Hinterlands, chances are, Cabin Fever has you in its grip. The temperature soared today! It was a whopping 25 degrees and did it feel good! The forecasts (for what they're worth) seem to agree it's going to be a lovely weekend.

Saturday at 10:30 AM, I'm hosting another playgroup, this time at a park along the Mississippi River. North Mississippi Regional Park is a wonderful place in North Minneapolis. This is a great opportunity to play and just "mess around" with your kids outside. We aren't doing a "nature hike" per se, and there will be no "guided walk"...although all these things are great in their own right.

But the intention of Saturday's gathering, as it is with all these Nature Playgroups, is to simply provide our children (and ourselves!) with a place where they can make their own choices: play where they want to play, do what they want to do, spend as much time making snow angels as their little hearts desire. Just be free to explore and play outside.

Most parents can agree: we all need some "unstructured downtime" as one friend put it. This is it, complete with laughing children, sparkling snow, and sunshine. I do hope you'll join us!

Ten Things To Do With Rocks

2010-01-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

We've got little rock piles in every room of this house. We can't help it-I've always been a saver of rocks, and L is too. Everywhere we go, she and I are collecting them, absentmindedly putting them in our pockets and bringing them home.

We dug out the stash of rocks and the kids came up with some very creative ways of using them. In no particular order, here are 10 favorites:

10. Use them as trucks. Long, flat rocks became bulldozers. Small round ones were steamrollers. J even designated one to be a feller buncher, his all-time favorite truck. (um, whose child is this?)
9. Use them as blocks. They make fantastic building elements. We created a cave, some bridges, and a "garage."
8. How many can you stack to make a tower? Which kinds of rocks work best for stacking?
7. Use them as characters in a puppet show. They all have distinct personalities, have you noticed? Is this a bit of a stretch for you? Pick up a rock and make it "talk" to your child. He or she will likely get the other rocks involved in the conversation and you'll soon see each rock's personality emerge.
6. Wash the rocks. You can do this in the sink, a pan of warm water, or better yet, the bath.
5. Paint them. An old favorite, this activity never gets old. Tempera paints are bright and bold, what effect can you get using watercolors? Or forget the paints, how about pastels? Crayons?
4. Paint with them. Instead of using brushes, use rocks. Dip them in paint, press them on paper, roll them around in a tray lined with paper.
3. Sort them. Let your children decide on the categories: size, shape, color. Where found, boy/girl (for some reason, in our house, rocks have gender) etc.
2. Hide them around the house. In our house, we never seem to tire of "hide-and-seek" games. The kids love it when I hide their stuff so they can search for it. Rock hunting inside is a new challenge.
1. Roll them around on various surfaces and compare what happens. Watch how they move, listen to the sounds that they make. This is especially fun if you've first dipped the rocks in paint. (see #5 above)

How does your family play with nature indoors? Love to hear your ideas.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-02T10:12:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the long absence...I've been "away" --that is, away from the computer and my home office and everything else, it seems, except family and friends and merriment. In the past two weeks we've attended or hosted more holiday-related gatherings than you can shake a stick at. It's been heavenly and I feel so restored and happy.

I hope you and yours enjoyed a peaceful, joy-filled holiday, whichever holiday you choose to celebrate. We did.

I'm excited to start the New Year by sharing a link to a fantastic website, The Motherhood Muse. I submitted an essay to the editor and it's in the very first issue of the online literary magazine she's publishing! Some of you may remember the essay from a post on this blog last summer. Do check out Motherhood Muse--it's a great website with a blog,writing contests, and a literary magazine for mothers--a place to explore your relationship with nature. Such a cool community. Special thanks to my friend and writing coach, Kate, for turning me on to the magazine!

Enjoy!

"It's a Beautiful Day Out Here!"

2009-12-20T09:35:00.000-08:00

These are the words spoken by my youngest the other day. It was 7:45 A.M. Eleven degrees. I was wrestling him into his car seat, trying to strap him in despite his puffy coat, hat that was crammed down over his eyes, mittens on upside-down, slush-covered pantlegs and one boot falling off.

I snapped to attention. Only moments before, I'd been silently griping to myself about my lost mittens, the icy air, the slush. I was annoyed that I had to scrape the car windows (again) and we were running late (again.) And it wasn't sunny outside, and I was cold.

How often do you comment on the weather these days? To friends, family, to your kids? How much of what you say is positive?

What does the winter season mean to you? To me, it means many different things: glorious shining snow, owls hooting, animal tracks and sledding...but I also think of being cold, of the flu, of hot uncomfortable coats, boots, slush, lost mittens, car-scraping and how we've gotta weatherproof our old drafty house. It sucks the enthusiasm right out of me. And why is it so easy and automatic to focus on the negative things rather than the positives? (just look at the size of each of my lists!)

During winter I try to be mindful of what I focus on so that I can help my kids find positive things to focus on too...their experiences are so shaped by what we adults say and do, how we react to things. I want to know what their experience of winter is like, untainted by mine.

So what do you talk about when the weather is not quite what you like?

When we all traipse outside and it's a nose-freezing 2 degrees, rather than say what I am tempted to say (Crap! It's COLD!) I comment instead on how sunny it is. How pretty the tree looks covered in snow. I wonder out loud what the dog thinks of this weather. I'm not overly saccharine or fakey, I just shift my attention a bit.

If it's too early, or I'm crabby and I can't think of a single positive thing, as was the case the other day, I take Thumper's advice: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nuthin' all." And when that happens, more often than not, my kids will say something nice so I don't have to.

Special Dark

2009-12-14T19:44:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about wintertime is how early the darkness sets in. (I know, I know, this is also one of the worst things about wintertime, too)

In the summer, we have to wait so long until it's really dark, it can be a rare treat to experience the darkness outside. But in the winter, there's often time to play outside for a little while in the evening, before bed. And, up here in the hinterlands, it gets good and dark very early.

How often do you play outside at night? There is something just wonderful about playing outside in the darkness. Things look different. Even here in the city, most nights, we can see stars. At least a few. That's really exciting. And the moon, seen from the backyard, rather than through a window? That's thrilling too! It can be so exciting to experience familiar places like one's own backyard, or the sandbox, or even the driveway and a sidewalk or path you've walked every day, suddenly in the dark. It takes on a specialness that is almost sublime.

And what is the first thing we noticed when playing outside the other night? Things are quieter. Which somehow seems to encourage children to be quieter. Very few cars drive by. We can hear dogs barking from a few blocks away. We move more slowly, as if checking out the terrain for the first time (and, in a way, we are.) The snow (if you're lucky enough to be outside, at night, during a snowfall) twinkles and sparkles in the dark. You can create your own snowfall by throwing a shovelfull up into the sky, then watching it fall.

The snow on the ground casts a special glow that is just incredible to play in. Snow angels look more angelic. Everything is more enchanting.

Bring it on

2009-12-04T20:41:00.000-08:00

The snow is coming! It's been lightly snowing all day here and the past couple of mornings we've found snow on the ground when we got up. It's supposed to stay in the 20's or below this week. The kids are beside themselves.

So this is it! Winter is finally upon us. This morning the kids could barely contain their excitement. L looked at me after she had her face pressed against the window, "The snow is coming, the snow is coming! Are you sad?"

Now granted, it's no secret which season I prefer. Despite this, I do know how to have a good time in the winter, and have grown to love many different outdoor activities: snowshoeing, skiing, winter hikes, etc. But still. Give me an 85 degree day with sunshine over snow anytime. The kids and their father refer to themselves as "winter people," while I am the sole "summer person" in the family.

It is easy for me to gripe and moan about the season's change. I'm cold. Winter is so messy. I don't have gloves yet. I want just a few more weeks that are "unseasonably warm." But this morning, I wasn't crying. Despite the gray sky, the cold temperatures, and the oh-so-dry indoor air, I think I'm ready for this.

It helps to have kids who are so enthusiastic. Truly, they are my role models. I will receive this snow, this season with all the wonder and delight that they do. I will catch snowflakes on my tongue, I will drop everything and play outside with them, even if I'm not in the mood. We will play with ice, eat snow, and go sledding. I am counting on them to remind me how fun this can be.

Questions

2009-11-29T19:08:00.000-08:00

I've got a question for you. Well, a few actually.

Several friends and blog readers have mentioned to me that as children, they played outside alone for long stretches of time, stayed out exploring until the sun went down, all without parents nearby. Of course, my kids are only 4 and 2, so obviously some of these things don't apply yet. But it's got me thinking, wondering. No matter what the ages of our children, these questions could spark an interesting discussion.

First: Do you have memories of roaming "aimlessly" outside in nature as a child?
I do-so, so many of them. I must have spent hours as a young child lying in the grass on a hill near our house--but not close enough that any parents could "supervise" my play outside.

Next: How often do you let your kids roam--without you nearby? How much physical distance is comfortable for you outside? How far can they get from you before you worry? Why? Does it depend on the setting, the other people nearby? Is this different from what you had the freedom to do as a child of that same age?

What is this about, this change in circumstance? Are we more-or less-protective than our parents were? Why? Do you believe the world is less safe than it was 20 or 30 or 40 years ago?

Empty Spaces

2009-11-18T21:08:00.001-08:00

Remember exuberance?

I love visiting big, open areas with my kids: spaces with few trees, few rocks, not much of anything other than grass (or sand). Playing with with them in places like this is so fun. It's different than the way they play when there are trees and rocks to climb, sticks to collect, leaves to pile up.

They jump. They dance. They spin in circles. Sometimes, they just run. They have room to move, to whip through the air with nothing nearby-just glorious space. They move their bodies through this space, feeling what they're capable of, trying new things, feeling the wind in their hair. Learning what fast feels like. And sometimes, what slow feels like. They play chase. They throw things as far and as hard as they can.

Usually they are also very loud, as if the wide-open-ness of the wide-open spaces just begs their voices to be as full and loud as can be. And how many places are there where kids can really yell, shout, scream, really check out what their voices can do?

It's great to visit these places and watch our kids revel in the freedom, but how about you? Do you remember how to spin in circles until you are dizzy? Roll down a hill? Whoop and holler just because you can? Go outside and find some open space. Your kids will remind you how to do these things. I promise.

An apology to the mother in France, whom I judged 15 years ago...(and to a flock of cedar waxwings)

2009-11-13T11:52:00.000-08:00

Many years ago, pre-kids, D and I were in a beautiful open square in Paris. We were sitting on the edge of a water fountain eating brie and bread, watching families as they strolled around.

A cute child of about 2 was interested in a large flock of pigeons as they strutted around and pecked at the gravel on the street. Without warning, the child suddenly screamed and rushed at the pigeons, then laughed riotously as they took to the air, an explosion of feathers and flapping.

After a few minutes,the birds settled again and resumed their pecking and strutting. And then, the child gave a repeat performance: screaming and running toward them as fast as he could. The pigeons, in a flurry, took off again.

I remember feeling totally appalled that a mother would allow her kid to treat animals that way. Scaring the pigeons, stressing them out for his own amusement? WTF? I cried to D, outraged. (Disclaimer: I was a bit of a vehement animal rights activist back then)

And then, I did what all women do before they have kids. I swore that when I had kids I would never....

Fast forward 15 (yes, 15 years)I am remembering this incident because just last week, we were frolicking in the mid-day sunshine at a nearby park. We found ourselves lucky enough to be near a tree where there was a flock of cedar waxwings perched, gorging themselves on berries to fatten up for their migration south.

My kids were enthralled. There must have been 50 birds sprinkled in the branches of a small tree bare of leaves, sporting nothing but huge red berries. They were eating them as fast as their little beaks could pick them off.

Suddenly, (you saw this one coming) J screamed and ran as fast as he could toward the tree, waving his arms and yelling. The birds left the tree as if they were one single creature, taking off from the branches, swirling through the air, then returning to the same tree. The kids and I stood, mesmerized. I forgot all about "correcting" J for yelling at the birds- what we were witnessing was so beautiful.

Once the birds had become comfortable, J did it again! He screamed, ran toward the birds, and off they fluttered. In short order, they came back. Honestly, it was fascinating to watch the birds fly together like a ribbon in the air, and then return, minutes later. More fascinating was watching my children as they saw their actions have immediate effects on wild animals. Watching them realize, "Hey, I have power! I can make things happen!" And most importantly, watching them, completely thrilled and captivated by the fluid motion of birds. Excited by animals and how they react to things.

Sorry, lady in France, wherever you are. I get it now.

PS: The birds, I'm quite sure, are fine. The noise my kids created was minimal compared with what these urban guys deal with every day. And I really don't think the stress created by a couple of yells was enough to do any real damage.

Savor it

2009-11-03T17:59:00.000-08:00

There is, no doubt about it, a chill in the air. Fall is packin' up and headin' out.

I know, I know, I'm still in denial about this whole "change of seasons" thing. Halloween has passed. Election day is behind us. The leaves are very quickly departing from the trees. OK-I know. They're pretty much gone.

All too soon, it will be cold, overcast, and wet. Cruddy weather, the biggest barrier I know to getting outside. As much as I advocate being outside every single day, even I will admit it is far easier and often more enjoyable to be outside on a sunny day than on a day that's cold, wet, snowy and gray as far as the eye can see. And we have so many of those days in Minnesota.

So when we are blessed with a few more amazing fall days--huge white clouds, crisp fresh air, sunshine- the kids and I pack up our stuff and head outside-anywhere. We just have to savor every last minute of this: We can still run around with our jackets unzipped. No hats. No mittens. We may start out with them, but they quickly come off and lie forgotten on the trail.

Right now, I'm scrambling like a squirrel, getting us outside as often as possible to soak it up. This usually just means we do whatever it is we were going to do anyway, only we do it outside... we move snack time to the back yard, we read on the front step, or we take the toy trains out to the park for a special adventure.

Anything, anything to get us outside where we can relish this sunshine.

Risk Assessment.

2009-10-25T19:00:00.001-07:00

The kids and I spent a glorious morning over the weekend leading a "nature playgroup" at a wonderful and underappreciated gem of an urban park. (One of my most delightful jobs is to lead these nature playdates for families with children...we get out and explore the urban park system and generally have fun just messing around in natural areas.)

J and L (and about 15 other kids!)were frolicking in the sunshine, picking up leaves and tossing them high into the air. We were all on a hill that was dotted with huge, sprawling oak trees. There were sticks and acorns everywhere. J immediately found a stick about 6 inches long, as big around as, oh, I don't know, Barbie's leg. He didn't want to put it down. He was carrying it around under his arm, holding it like a walking stick, even cuddling with it at one point. And in his exuberance, he was running and jumping.

I wasn't going to be "that parent" who won't let her kids play with sticks (and who am I kidding? I'm not that parent.)But then again, it did cross my mind that, well, he was running with a stick.

I actually had an entire internal dialogue about this: Should I put a stop to this? No, he's fine, he's having fun. Let him enjoy it. What's the problem? Relax, I told myself. You worry too much. A wisp of anxiety floated through my mind...well, he could get hurt, couldn't he? But really, what are the chances that he'll actually poke his eye out?

Well, wouldn't you know. The moment I had that awful thought, J fell down. Onto the stick. Luckily, it didn't actually enter his eye, but it came darn close. For a few moments there, I felt like The Worst Mother in the World (again). I mean, I let the kid run with a stick on wet leaves: OK, not the best choice.

So. The corner of his right eye is bruised, swollen, and scratched. He cried for a long time, but was OK. No real harm done. In fact, he's a little proud to tell the story to anyone who'll listen.

I've heard lots of reasons for parents and educators' not wanting kids to play with sticks, and injury is top among them. But it's often there that people stop. Well, OK, I ask them, so what if there was an injury. Would that be OK? Or not? Is the risk worth the benefit? How bad would it be?

When it comes to playing outside, many parents hope and try to eliminate the possibility of any injuries altogether. How can you mitigate every possible risk? I don't think this is realistic, or even possible. I'm certainly not saying I think injuries are good, and I'm not trying to minimize real risk and real injury. I'm just saying that sometimes minor injuries aren't necessarily as bad as we imagine them. The risk of getting poked with a stick is, to me, not high or bad enough to warrant removing sticks from my child's repertoire of playthings. And isn't that how it is with most risks involved in outdoor play? There is often a considerable risk of some relatively minor injury and a much, much smaller risk or something much, much worse. So, when do we refuse to let them have the experience because of the small risk that Something Really Bad will happen?

Now granted, I recognize J was darn lucky this weekend. It could have been really bad. But it wasn't. And most of the time, thank goodness, it just isn't.

The shape of things

2009-10-21T11:15:00.000-07:00

On our first foray outdoors in what seems like forever, we decided it was time to gather up all the special rocks we've collected this summer and put them someplace for the winter. L decided they would be "happiest hiding under the snow."

So, we made a nice pile of rocks under our ash tree where they will wait quietly for some snow.

While we were collecting the rocks, the kids noticed that some of them were shaped like circles, there was a diamond-shaped rock, a squarish rock, and even a rock that was "like a line," according to J. We had a great time organizing them and finding a variety of shapes.

This week, why not look around your yard for familiar shapes? Leaves can be triangular, heart-shaped, or roundish. Sticks can resemble letters, slides, or even arrows. Rocks come in all shapes and sizes.

Stomach bugs

2009-10-18T20:06:00.001-07:00

Stomach bugs have invaded our house. We're on week three of awful crud. The kids are finally sleeping (fitfully) and instead of cleaning or paying bills, I'm reading the news online.

A recent study by some Dutch researchers shows that people who live within about 2 miles of "green space" have significantly fewer physical health problems. The researchers compared people who live in close proximity to green space with those who don't.

Interestingly, the annual rates for some pretty serious physical ailments were significantly lower among those folks who live close to green space (and presumably, go out and enjoy it once in a while). These folks had fewer incidences of:

heart disease
Depression and anxiety
migraines
stomach bugs
respiratory infections and athsma

As soon as the day breaks, I'm hauling my two sick kids outside.

what just happened?

2009-10-12T20:01:00.001-07:00

Did I say fall was here? I guess I meant something resembling winter is here.

Today we awoke to a couple inches of very wet, very heavy snow. The kids raced to the window and pressed noses to glass, screaming, "snow! snow!"

After I'd consumed my RDI of coffee, we dove into our winter gear and went out back to catch snowflakes on our tongues. We made snowballs. We played with the sand toys (today's snow was the perfect consistency for "snow castles.") Made a huge heap of snow on our picnic table. Danced in circles in the yard. Watched the huge flakes fall from the white, white sky.

Then, we listened. The flakes were so big and heavy they practically landed with a "thud." A robin chortled in surprise from the cedar trees near our garage. Tires of passing cars made hissing sounds as they slid down the wet street. Before long the kids were ready to go in (and so was I, since I have yet to dig out my hat, mittens, etc from storage--hey, I said I wasn't ready for this!) and we had some hot soup and cupcakes.

Now there's a day.

So it reminded me, Lucy came home from preschool singing this sweet song last year, and overall it made the whole "Donning of our Winter Gear" process go so much more smoothly. I get aggravated easily in the mornings when we're trying to get out the door, and it helps so much to have a song to sing...the kids remember all their gear and it's impossible to be crabby when you're singing. Try it! (Special thanks to Miss Lori!)

Thumbs in the thumb part, fingers all together

That's what we say in mitten weather

Hats on our heads and scarves around our necks

Warm boots, warm boots, so we don't get wet!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2009-10-05T19:06:00.001-07:00

Oh, my. I thnk fall is upon us.

I'm still in denial over here. I know, I know. It's October. It's not going to warm up again. Not for a long, long time. But -and I know I say this every year --I'm not ready.

Now don't get me wrong. I love the change of seasons. I love autumn and the colors and the crisp air and the smell of the dry leaves on the ground. But the transition from summer to fall has always been a difficult one for me.

And, I have learned to embrace winter, in spite of myself. This was a monumental effort for me, which took years. And I had to be paid to do it. More on that in another post, someday.

For now, I'll dig in my heels a bit and sigh as I put on my fleece jacket. I'm not ready quite yet for this.

The kids, on the other hand, are elated. L looks out the door every morning: "Oh, looks like it rained a bit last night! And it's getting so cold outside!"

Or, when we leave the house, J will yell, joyously, "Smells good!" as he takes in a breath of air so huge I expect him to physically expand.

I really ought to thank my kids-they constantly bring me back to the here and now. I snap to attention, and recognize some of the beautiful things Ihave had a tendency to overlook lately. The smells. The temperature. The visual changes everywhere-in the trees, the grass, even the sky.

I forget the leaf-identification games and the tales of animals preparing for winter (all good activities in their own right, mind you, but for another time--that's not that we're here for)

For fun, I ask them to tell me what's going on in "nature" (a.k.a the yard, for our purposes these days) and they point out incredible things for me. I like to make a game of it, and they are happy to show me the world through their eyes.

I've found that academic, "school-y" questions like, What do you notice about the change of seasons? or What's happening out here? are a bit much for young ones. They're a little too "big" and abstract. To make things easier for my kids to explain, I get specific:

"Tell me what's happening in the garden?" I ask, or, "What seems to happen to the trees in all this rain?" and, "Can you show me one nature treasure?"

"All the plants are shaggy" She tells me, pointing out the frayed petals, the sagging leaves.

"This tree is wearing a wet jacket" she says, rubbing her hand across the slick bark.

Or, my favorite: "There are nature treasures everywhere! And they're wet!"

Freedom

2009-09-24T12:50:00.000-07:00

"Come on, come on, let's go! Get in the car or we're going to be late!" I barked at the kids this morning. L was due at preschool in a mere 10 minutes and they were messing around in the backyard, playing in the garden.

"Come on, get in the car" I said, aggravated and impatient. Finally the two of them walked up to me in the driveway, each with a flower they had chosen "just for you, mama."

This, of course, made me stop in my tracks.

I took a deep breath. I received the flowers they had chosen for me. I gave them each a big hug, and felt myself unwind.

As we drove to school, (and I tried not to speed!) I wondered, what's this rushing around for? Will it really matter if she's 5 minutes late to preschool? It's not a Presidential address, for goodness sakes. I tried to remember--when was the last day I allowed them to take their time, to lead me instead of the other way around? I feel like these days, I am constantly rushing my kids.

After dropping L off at school (late), I decided to forego the errands I had on our agenda, and I headed straght to a nature center in town. I told J "The morning is yours. You get to decide where we go, how long we stay, and what we do."

I set some rules for myself (see below), and here's what I learned about how J plays outside when there's no one telling him what/where/how to do things:

He spent most of his time inside a 10-foot radius.
He climbed up and down, up and down their boardwalky-bridge thing 18 times. In a row.
He asked me to sit next to him on the edge of this boardwalky-bridgy thing. He said, "I don't want to fall down there (pointing to a small streambed underneath) -You got me safe?"
He used his butt to create a slide down a slope, and I'll never get those pants clean again.
He spent a fair amount of time picking up sticks, large and small, and throwing them, javelin-style, through the air. Often at me.
Then he spent an equal amount of time jabbing them into the dirt, making caveman sounds.
He rolled logs with his butt.
He collected similar-sized rocks and lined them up in a neat row on a tree stump.
He found one plant that he described to me as "pokey" and;
He finally asked to leave after about 50 minutes.

Here's what I learned about myself during this experiment:

After watching him go up and down the boardwalky bridge thing 4 times, I really wanted to move on and it was hard not to try to redirect him to a different activity. I'm not sure why.
My first instinct was to say "no throwing sticks" but there was no one there besides us, and I knew he couldn't throw one hard enough to actually hurt me.
It was really difficult for me not to try to get him out of this little "circle of space" he was playing in. I felt like I needed to show him everything else there was to look at, do, etc.
It was hard not to ask questions about what he was doing, and why, and what he thought of things.

Try this today. Or tomorrow. But soon. It's good for everyone.

Take your child(ren) to someplace other than your usual nature destinations. Then let them be totally free to explore and play without your intervention. (I suggest a "new" place so that everyone is free from past rules, games, and expectations that have been set in familiar places)

Here are the rules:

Obviously, first, make sure everyone's going to be safe. Don't do this on a bluff overlooking the river.
Kids can do whatever they want, however they want, for as long as they want (if you need to set some parameters around this for safety's sake, fine, but allow as much freedom as possible)
Adults may not say 'no' unless someone is in imminent danger.
Adults may not lead the child into any activity. The job of the adult is to observe the child. The child decides what to do, how to do it, for how long.
If a child asks you to participate in some way, follow their instructions.
Don't ask questions. Just watch. And play, if invited.
When the child is ready to leave, leave. If at all possible, let the child decide when to go.

What do you think will happen? Will your kids play differently than you expect them to? How long will they be interested in things? What will the experience be like for you? Will it be difficult not to intervene in their play? Let me know what happens, and if anything surprises you.

Never say never

2009-09-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

Once, I was leading a group of third-grade kids on a nature hike through the woods, and we accidentally disturbed a nest of yellowjacket wasps. Within seconds there were hundreds of wasps flying everywhere, stinging everyone. I vividly remember pulling them, one by throbbing one, off kids' bodies, their arms, even one unlucky boy's lip. We all ran like hell back to the nature center and spent the rest of the day doing first aid. I didn't get a single sting that day.

I worked at another nature center for a while that had an active honeybee colony. I had "check up duty" and had to look in on them often. Never got stung.

I have had lunch outdoors countless times with hundreds of elementary school students (oh, the sugary sweets! The juice boxes! The flailing arms, swatting at the wasps!) and never once been stung.

This afternoon, D and the kids and I were outside, and I went up to the side of the house to unravel the hose.

"Be careful." D said, pointing out a couple of yellowjackets lazing around in the air. "You don't want to rile them up."

I went about my business unwinding the hose, trying to get the kinks out. Then I noticed several wasps flying around near my ankles, and I decided it was time to bring the kids to the back yard, lest someone get stung. A few were flying up near my face. I felt one fly into the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail.

Not being one to panic, I just ignored it. I figured it would leave as soon as it could, and that the less I interfered, the better. (Note-this is true! Swatting, running, yelling, flailing, all these behaviors are likely to provoke an attack. If you encounter a yellowjacket, best to be calm, and ignore it or just leave the area.)

"Come on, guys, the wasps are getting kind of nervous with us here. Let's go play in the back yard." D hurried them to the back yard and I dropped the hose and followed.

So, the wasp must have been a little put off by my nonchalance. I was standing by the fence chatting with D when, out of habit, I reached to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"Yeoowch!" I screeched, swatting at the side of my head, as a sharp dart of pain shot into my ear. I quickly turned and started toward the house, trying in vain to be nonchalant. Wow did it hurt!

Unlike honeybees, which die after stinging, yellowjackets can sting their percieved attacker over and over. What's more, in response to a perceived threat, they emit a chemical which other yellowjackets sense, and the others will almost always come to defend their nest. And that means stinging-lots of stinging. So, I had riled up their nest and they were pissed. At me.

"Get the kids inside! Get the kids inside!" I yelled. (So much for nonchalance. So much for not instilling fear of bugs into the hearts of my children.)

Poor sweeties. They both started screaming and crying. They were really scared! D got them inside and I rushed to the freezer for a handful of ice. I spent the afternoon with ice on the side of my head. I tried to be calm and keep hanging out with them while they played with D. I didn't want to scare them even further by just disappearing after this happened. They needed to see that it was really no big deal.

The incident occured about 6 hours ago. I am pretty sure I was stung twice on the ear and once on the side of my head. My ear looked strangely like a plum earlier this afternoon, in both size and color.

But, you know. No big deal. I'd rather it happened to me than one of them. And I'd rather they see that it's no biggie. People get stung sometimes, and it's no big deal. Yeah, my ear swelled up (another teachable moment!) and my ear was ringing for half the day, but whatever. The upside is, we got to talk a lot about how different animals defend their families and their homes. We got to talk about why I got stung and they also got to see that this mysterious thing they've feared --a wasp sting--is really not that big a deal.

I've never had poison ivy either. Tomorrow I think I'll go look for a patch of that and roll around.

What we can do

2009-09-16T09:07:00.001-07:00

This morning on the way to L's school, J noticed a huge flock of pigeons whooshing over the top of a building.

"Look at all those birds!" he exclaimed.

The kids wondered why they were in such a large group. I told them that it was a chilly morning, and birds often roost on rooftops or other sunny places in the mornings to stay warm.

"How come we can't fly?" L asked.

"Well, flying is something really special isn't it? It's something that only animals can do -only birds, and insects, and bats. There are lots of special things that people can do that animals can't do. Can you think of a few?" I asked.

Silence.

"Well," I began, hoping to get them started. "People can write, draw pictures, color, talk..."

"Give. People can give." L said.

Indeed.

Here's something to try:

Today, why not look at an animal and talk with your children about what that animal can do that makes it special. Maybe it's something people can't do. Maybe it's something that people do, but differently. For example, how do squirrels climb trees? How do they eat? How do animals talk to each other?

The End

2009-09-14T18:55:00.000-07:00

In my work as a naturalist, I have always tried to be honest about "the hard stuff:" life, death, the fact that not all animals beat the odds, that sort of thing. I'm not overly dramatic or sorrowful, this stuff just happens. It is what it is. When I'm teaching a class of adults, it's much easier to be matter-of-fact about it. With kids, not so much. During early childhood, some kids can be almost neutral towards the idea of death, others are torn apart by it, others are fascinated. It's hard to predict what their reaction will be. Best to be prepared for anything.

Late that evening, I checked on "our" butterfly again (where our story begins), when I went to take the garbage out. She was still there, hanging from a leaf. She didn't look too bad, but still. Something wasn't quite right with the one wing. It was a bit warped, and didn't align properly with her hindwing. Something had definitely happened to her after she emerged. Either she fell, or she was released too soon, her wings still soft. We'd never know. So, she hadn't flown away, and she most likely wouldn't, she admitted. Butterflies don't fly at night or when it's overcast: the sun's warmth powers their bodies.

Trying to predict the reaction our kids would have consumed the better part of an evening for myself and D.

Did I worry that knowing the butterfly had died would somehow cast a pall over their whole experience? Of course. I really didn't want to burst the bubble of enthusiasm. And of course I wanted my kids to be proud, to feel they had had a hand in helping a butterfly find her way in the world. Who wouldn't? And obviously, I would have preferred to avoid the sadness and loss of knowing she died.

In the end, D relented and accepted that I was going to tell them what had really happened. He wasn't thrilled about this; he figured, what's the harm in letting them believe the butterfly flew away happily? And, in reality, there's no harm in it at all. None. I just want them to have authentic experiences. And not all of those experiences are going to have happy endings. And butterflies die if their wings get crushed, because they can't fly. This stuff just happens.

Within moments of coming downstairs the next morning, the kids were clamoring to go check on the butterfly. I led them outside, all of us still in our jammies, and braced myself for the scene: We'd find her crumpled body there in the garden, under the lantana where we'd released her, and maybe we'd have a funeral of sorts for her. We'd talk about how butterfly wings work, and how delicate and fragile they are, and how there are so many butterflies in this world, flying right now.

But she wasn't there. The butterfly was gone. I looked around the plants, the mulch. There was no sign of a monarch anywhere. (Which means, dear reader, not that she flew away, but that she was probably eaten by a toad or a raccoon in the night. Sorry.)

"Hooray!" The kids yelled, jumping up and down. "She's gone! She's gone!"

Uh, well....can't argue with that one....

"Maybe she flew away!" They rejoiced.

You're going to call me a cheater here. Now technically, the kids were under no illusions at this point. They were happy that the butterfly was gone. They said "maybe." They realized it was possible she had flown away. There is an implication there that they also realize it's possible she didn't. That some other fate befell our lady. What they were happy about, then, was the fact that the butterfly was gone, and that maybe she flew away. I didn't press the issue. Lucky me--I could "neither confirm nor deny" as they say.

(If one of them had said, "What happened to the butterfly, mama?" Well, then, we'd have had to have a little talk. But no one said that.) I decided in that instant to let them live with the conclusion they drew based on what they saw. (A basic scientific practice, I might add) I don't believe I misled my children. My children were reacting to one interpretation of events. And that interpretation is possible. Not likely, but possible. I will never know either way.

"Maybe she did!" I crowed, relief washing over me like a hot shower. We played in the yard for a good long time before I managed to get them inside for breakfast.

"You know what would have been really great, Mama?" L said, her mouth full of cinnamon toast. "If that butterfly couldn't fly. Then she could have been an indoor butterfly and stayed with us. "
I just had to gulp down more coffee, and bite my tongue.

To be continued...

2009-09-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

We reared a monarch caterpillar this summer and watched as it spun a chrysalis, then emerged a couple of weeks later as a butterfly. We were all giddy with excitement when it came time to release her. She had spent some time hanging upside down on the lid of her "home," after emerging from her chrysalis. This is a very important and vulnerable time for butterflies. When they emerge from a chrysalis, their wings are crumpled and damp, and for a few hours they hang and are very still. During this time, they pump their wings full of fluid, so they can unfurl and straignten and become strong. When the time is right, they begin to flap their wings a bit and walk around.

When "our" butterfly seemed ready to go, D opened the container and lay it on its side. The kids and I had been out running errands, and I had instructed him to call me when it was "time."He checked the container throughout the day on the day she emerged, and when she was flapping her wings a bit and standing on the floor of the container, he called me. We raced home.

We arrived home and the butterfly....was...just standing there, on the lantana.

The kids cheered to her "Fly butterfly! You can do it!" "We love you!"

They quickly turned to other things, like sliding rocks down the slide, and I tried to hide my concern. I squatted down and noticed that one of her wings was not quite flattened out. It looked a little wrinkled. I wasn't sure this butterfly could fly.

The kids came back to check on her. "What's taking her so long?" L demanded. "Will she fly?"

"Well, honey, I'm sure she'll fly eventually. She's just taking her time right now. Getting her strength up." Which might have been true. She may still have been pumping those wings full of fluid. Or, she may have been injured, perhaps she'd fallen in the container and D hadn't noticed.

After a long half hour, it was time to bring the kids in to get ready for bed. D and I exchanged worried looks every time the kids asked about the butterfly.

"Is she going to fly tonight? Will she be there in the morning?"

All I could say was, "I don't know."

The kids finally got to sleep and though it was dusk, I went out to check on the butterfly. She was still standing on the plant, though she had moved a bit from her original location. Things were not looking good. Usually, butterflies fly within a few minutes of being released.

We'd spent weeks talking about this. The kids were so interested in the chrysalis, and we'd checked it every day, numerous times. We read books about butterflies. We scouted them out when we were on walks. They were counting on "their" butterfly flying away.

"That butterfly is going to fly away tonight, whether it's on her own or into the compost heap." D said ominously. I wanted to agree with him. I wanted my kids to wake up thinking the butterfly had happily flown away and joined the legions of other happy monarchs. If that meant hiding the dead body to maintain the illusion, hey, so be it.

But. I really don't believe in lying to my kids. I have this "truth whenever it's developmentally appropriate" policy. In situations like this, it's mighty inconvenient.

Still. If they believe that she flew, wouldn't it encourage joy, wonder, appreciation? Wouldn't they feel great that they helped this butterfly grow, and then fly away? If they are told that she didn't make it, would it squelch the excitement about butterflies? Make them very sad? Or would it help develop empathy. The honest truth is, in nature, things die. Not every caterpillar becomes a butterfly. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, things don't always go as planned.

D reminded me that they are 2 and 4 years old, and would it really hurt to let them believe she flew away? I reminded him of this "Policy of truth" that we try to maintain, and that this situation was no exception. We fretted. Wrung our hands. What to say. Which angle to present to them. Reality or ideal.

Judgment call

2009-09-08T16:46:00.001-07:00

Something really bad could have happened to my daughter today. I'm not at all sure what it was. Maybe you can tell me.

After a lovely afternoon of swimming with the kids this afternoon, I was driving "the long way" home around the lake. The sunroof and windows were wide open, and the kids took notice of all the sounds they were hearing-the waves, the breeze in the trees, the sounds of people laughing as they walked. Most intriguing of all was the "clink clink" of the ropes and lines on the sailboats moored by the east shore of the lake. Although they were both tired from swimming all afternoon, they wanted to sit by the shore and listen to the boats.

Happy to prolong our picture-perfect afternoon, I parked along the road, and we got out, still in our damp swimsuits. We walked across the road, crossed the grassy "boulevard" between the sidewalk and the road, and planted ourselves on a park bench about, oh, 100 feet from the car. We cuddled up on the bench, hunkered down together, watching the boats and the frothy water, a chilly breeze coming off the lake.

"I'm shivering," L said.

"Let's go to the car and get our clothes on, then we can come back here to this bench."

"Noooo!" she protested, "I want to wait here and watch the water."

I sat there a moment, thinking. The car was so close. I knew they were both tired and would most likely stay right there on the bench. But there was no barrier between the bench and the water, and J is after all, only 2. L, I knew, would stay put. And I could be to the car and back in less than a minute. It was literally just across the road. Then we could all be warm and cozy and stay a while.

"Please go get my clothes, mama!" She implored.

"Can you stay right here? Don't get off this bench for any reason. Stay right here. I'm taking J and we'll be back with sweatshirts to warm us all up."

I scooped up a shivering J and we shuffled towards the car. We'd gone maybe 25 feet when I got to the edge of the grassy boulevard, and I heard this from behind me:

"That's really not a good idea, ma'am."

I turned to see two women, one probably in her 60's, and one who looked to be about 10 years older than me, standing together on the path, shaking their heads, looking at me.

"Excuse me?" I said, surprised.

"That's really not a good idea." One of them, I don't know which, said again.

I was totally flustered. I had no idea what to say. "We'll be fine!" I spat, and practically ran to the bench, yanked L off without a word, and rushed both my kids to the car. I was shaking and kind of frantic, a mixture of anger, shame, and fear rushing through me.

I had the following thoughts, all at the same time:

Who do they think they are, questioning my judgment as a mother? Do they really think I'd put my daughter in harm's way?

What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid? What's wrong with me?

My God, what if something happened to her?

When we got home, I watched her little-kid body, her damp, stringy hair, her tanned legs as she hopped to the back door, singing a song about sunshine and boats. My eyes filled with tears. What was I thinking? What if something had happened?

But here's the thing: I try to let my kids have some of the basic freedoms that I enjoyed as a kid. I don't believe in living in fear. I want my kids to feel safe and secure, and not be worried that the boogyman is going to get them, or that nature, or their community is a place to be afraid. I had a highly anxious mother, and spent a lot of my own childhood worrying and being afraid of things I couldn't quite define.

To me, at the time, this decision to run to the car seemed totally reasonable. Middle of the afternoon, me less than 150 feet from her, for maybe a minute, and within eyeshot the whole time. That didn't seem so risky to me.

Now, I'm not so sure. Circling back around the lake on the way home, when I saw the two ladies walking on the path, I considered stopping the car and asking them what they had thought was going to happen. Why, exactly, it was such a bad idea. Were they thinking she'd jump in the lake and drown? Get abducted? Molested?

My mind is reeling. And I feel horribly, horribly guilty for even considering leaving her there for a minute. Ashamed. What if they were right? What if I had left her and one of those things had happened?

Was I (almost) negligent? Where do we, as mothers, draw the line between being OK with a small amount of risk and being stupid? And which of those things was I, today?

Going for it

2009-09-07T19:28:00.000-07:00

This tree isn 't quite as big as it looks. But my daughter, she is larger than life.

All at once, she's developed this fascination with tree-climbing. A few weeks ago, we were playing in this wonderful little grove of trees near the house, and she just started going up.

Now, she's unstoppable. Even when she's riding in the car, she's scoping out the trees as we pass: "That looks like a good one to climb, we'll have to come back to that tree."

As you might have guessed, I'm a big fan of trees over plastic play equipent. Let's just compare plastic play equipment, such as you might find at your local neighborhood park, with trees and rocks.

Balance:

Your typical "jungle gym" apparatus at a park offers basically one way to go up or down. You use the ladder, or the fake rock-climbing bumps. There is a "right way" (i.e. one way that gets you to the top) and all the other ways-which don't get you to the top of the structure, where the other "experiences" await. The rungs on the ladder, the bars, are all the exact same size and dimension. And there is only one place to go. One outcome: reach the top.

A tree on the other hand, offers a variety of ways to get from one place to another. Reaching the "top" is usually not the goal. (Although for some kids, it certainly might be.)There are exciting and interesting things to be found in all sorts of places within the branches of a tree. Tree branches differ wildly in size, shape, strength and texture. This offers great physical challenge and requires the development of balance well beyond what a series of uniform metal bars offers. It also requires coordination and concentration.

Creativity:

There is usually only "one thing to do" with plastic playground equipment. You climb to the top of something, you slide down. You swing. Plastic play equipment is great for letting off steam. Kids love to climb, slide, and swing. Mine are no exception. But it is rather one-sided, kind of a "flat" experience. Go to any playground, there's just not much variation in the way kids play. Get out in nature, on the other hand, and something else happens.

Kids use their imaginations more freely when playing in nature: "Hmm, here's a great big tree. What can I do here? I can climb it, bounce on the low limbs, swing from the branches, hide in the boughs." "Here are some huge rocks--I can jump from them, crawl, lie on my belly, lean against them." With no pieces of equipment directing how kids play, they can be free to make up their own rules and set their own goals for play.

All that aside, it's at times challenging as a mom to let my kids climb trees, jump off boulders, and the like. Occasionally, one of them will jump off something kinda high, "land wrong" and get a minor owie. And sometimes they go really high. Out of my reach. And there are often rocks and roots and other hard, sharp things on the ground beneath them. And what if she falls and hits a branch on her way down? Or, what if he falls off that boulder and cuts his head open?

When these thoughts creep in, and believe me, they do, I really try to see it as a chance for me to work on my own balance and strength. (because, frankly, I've got the "creativity" part down-I can think of a million what-ifs for any given situation)

The thing is, I've got to let them do this. I really believe this is important-it's good for them in a way that nothing else is. And, really, what are the chances of one of these random bad things actually happening? Extremely, extremely small. Is it any less likely that something bad will happen on a playground? Probably more likely, actually.

So, I take a deep breath. I lift him to a bough he can hang from. I give her a boost up to that next branch. And I stand there, under the tree, and we all grow.

souvenirs from the North Shore

2009-09-06T13:40:00.001-07:00

What an utterly beautiful week we had. (Since I haven't bothered to upload a single picture, you'll have to take my word for it!)

Our first official day of vacation started at that heavenly place, Lake Superior, where we spent a glorious day walking along the lake and picking up rocks, throwing rocks (and Crocs) into the lake and collecting sea glass. We spent a long time wandering, watching gulls slice through the air with their chiseled wings, and listening to the water on the rocks.

We lay on the shoreline, watching the water, feeling the cool air on our faces, and bonding with rock after rock. We were in heaven. Well, the kids and I were, anyway. D is not so much into rocks. But he was a trooper and sat there until we were ready to leave.

The kids have treasure boxes that are positively overflowing now, with bits of sea glass, and rocks "shaped like potatoes" (according to J) and tiny sticks of driftwood.

Although many folks frown upon it, I'm a big believer in collecting things we find outside. Of course, if we find an endangered plant or mushroom or live animal or something, I draw the line. But wildflowers? Gorgeous sticks? Pinecones? I say, if we can get 'em home, let's go for it. And you already know how I feel about rocks. (We filled a whole grocery bag at Lake Superior!)

Sure, sure, some people feel you should "take only pictures, leave only footprints" and all that. But I really believe that if my kids are connecting with something from nature on a personal level, and that thing is not critically endangered or in otherwise desperate straits, being able to take something home and give it a special place of honor really deepens their appreciation.

And frankly (though my other naturalist friends will kill me for saying so) it really doesn't do harm to nature to pick a flower. Or grab a leaf from a tree. Or remove a rock from the forest floor. (Nod to my naturalist friends: When I was leading 5-6 school groups of 30 kids each into the woods daily for months at a time, I was singing a different tune. But you see the difference, I'm sure)

We sift over our treasures at home, recalling our walks where we came across this pinecone or that feather. We examine our shells closely, with magnifiers. We compare feathers, noting how different ones feel on cheeks, arms, and the back of your hand. We wrap up our stones in silk scarves, presents for each other from our favorite places.

Sure, at times, we look at photos from our trips (when D or I ever get around to uploading them. heh.) But nothing connects us more quickly to nature than having something of nature in our hands. For many people, children especially, having something real and physical to hold is so important. It builds connection. It calls up memories. It returns us to the woods, the lake, the meadow. We can experience the textures, the sounds, the temperatures of rocks, feathers, pinecones. And this brings us back to a shared experience that we savor together.

up north!

2009-08-28T12:13:00.001-07:00

We are heading to the north woods for an extended get-away with the kids. We're going here:

And here:

'Gonna be lots to tell you when we get back! Have a wonderful week.

teachable moment

2009-08-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

So, I've realized that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for the outdoors. Recently, a close relative who shall remain nameless was at our house playing with the kids. L and J were full of stories about our recent "camping trip."

"We played in the woods and catched bugs!" She gushed.

Relative: "Oh, that must be why you have so many bug bites. Do they itch? Do they hurt?"

L had to think about that one. "Yeah." she concurred. It's not as if this fact hadn't occurred to her prior to this moment, but it wasn't where she had been going with her story.

Relative: "Did you get a lot more bug bites? You were outside for such a long time. I bet you got a lot of bug bites."

L: "Yeah, I did."

Relative: "That must not have been very much fun. There sure are a lot of bugs who like to bite people."

L: Slightly puzzled, "Why?"

Relative: "That's just what they do, honey. They just land on you and bite your skin and drink your blood. Maybe that's why you got sick, maybe something bit you and made you sick?"

(Gasp!) Another teachable moment. This time, it's not the kids whose tolerance of bugs I want to impact. But this was definitely a "choose your battles" moment. Some people, this particular relative especially, are completely convinced of certain things, hold certain opinions (bugs = bad) and aren't much interested in discussing it. Might even be offended that I'd try.

Seconds passed while I thought about this. Wisely, I refrained from speaking. How could I best counter her negative comments about bugs? How could I undo the negative frame Relative had just put on the experience of catching bugs, of being outside? Should I try to tell This Relative some of the many great things about bugs, perhaps remind her how much the kids enjoyed being outside? I knew I couldn't challenge her belief about bugs--I know for a fact she won't budge. But how could I gently redirect the course of conversation? I sat there, contemplating my next move.

L: "No, I just had a virus. The doctor said. And catching bugs is FUN!" she gushed, leaping off the chair to go play.

'Atta girl!

the camping trip that wasn't

2009-08-23T00:27:00.000-07:00

This was to be the second night this summer camping in a tent and the kids were so excited. Unfortunately, L woke up this morning with a low fever. Since we all really wanted to go, and had already loaded the car (no small feat) D and I had planned to "see how the day goes" and once we got there, a little after lunchtime, the kids had a great time playing in the woods, catching bugs in their little tiny bug nets (never mind that they were all mosquitoes!) and we even made some sandcastles at the beach for a while.

On our walk back to the campsite I spotted a tiny baby toad hopping in the grass. I picked it up and the kids were thrilled. L held it so gently and carefully, and J touched it ever so softly with one outstretched finger. When it was time to let the toad go, L gingerly lowered it to the grass and said "bye bye toad, thanks for showing yourself!" She seemed to be doing OK. A little less spunky than usual, but overall pretty good, considering.

Dom and I had been on the fence up to this point about whether to stay or go, should we tough it out and stay through the night, should we just bag it and go home. Normally I'd err on the side of staying at home when one of the kids is that sick...but....we had come all this way, we were camping, everyone had been so looking forward to it. And who knows? We told ourselves. Maybe she'll be fine. I admit that much of this was purely self-interest on our part. We have so wanted to get out camping this summer. The last time we went camping, in early May, it was wonderful, the kids had constant fun and fwhen they finally slept they slept the whole night through. And, we figured today she could just take it easy and maybe the medicine would help kick down the fever enough for her to have fun. That strategy got us through the afternoon, anyway.

Yeah. But then she barfed. Right after dinner, all over our good friends' sleeping pad. That pretty much cinched it for us. Despite her pleas of "but I want to sleep in the tent...please can't we sleep in the tent?" We toasted one last marshmallow, re-loaded the car, and made a long, sad trek back to the city.

Better luck next time.

sounds good

2009-08-18T14:05:00.001-07:00

Aren't children wonderful the way they just take it all in? They are naturally inclined to use all their senses, all the time. We adults get so used to processing our world through one or two channels, it's easy to overlook all the delightful other ways we can interact with the natural world. Here are a few ideas.

Touch: Not only can we touch things with our hands, but we can try to notice the way different things feel under our feet. The kids love walking around barefooted as much as I do, so we are constantly taking in information about the world through the bottoms of our feet! But how much do we really notice? I've been asking them to really feel the ground, the logs, the grass. Take your shoes off too! What does the sidewalk feel like? How about the forest floor? Can you find a place to stand where you can put one foot in the hot sunny sand and one foot in the cool water of a lake? What's that like? Can you feel with another part of your body, aside from your hands and feet? How about an arm? A cheek?

Sight: When was the last time you laid on your back and just looked up through the tree branches? Or lay on the ground and gazed at the clouds floating by? I'm not just talking about tilting your head back either. I mean this: stop, lay down where you are, change your body's orientation from vertical to horizontal, and look. What do you see? Describe it. Watch clouds for a while. Or watch the leaves dance in the breeze. Your kids will be great at this. Ask them to show you how. Another idea: Lie on your tummy and look at what's in front of you. What's down in the grass? Find five things, or ten, or twenty. Make a loop out of string, lay it down on the ground and discover together what's inside that circle.

Taste: Of course, I'm not advocating that you eat the wild plants you find. (Unless you are hiking with a very knowledgable mycologist or naturalist, o'course.) But--where can you find things to taste outside? We have a patch of mint in the garden and the kids love to grab a leaf or two and munch on it when we're playing out back. They also seem to enjoy licking rocks, don't ask me why. This won't hurt anyone, (although it makes my mother cringe) and I like that they are exploring so naturally using all their senses. (It simply hasn't occurred to them not to) Other ideas: Have you ever tried to catch raindrops on your tongue? When was the last time you ate snow? If you aren't entirely comfortable literally taking in the natural world through taste, then why not try eating more meals outside? Or making a batch of Sun Tea? Let a popsicle melt in a cup and drink the sun-warmed juice. Sunshine has an amazing effect on the taste of food and drink.

Smell: The kids are (I think) lucky to have a mom with a bionic nose-and (yay!) they're starting to comment on the smells they notice outside. It's amazing what they can smell. L can smell the rain coming. J loves to smell the flowers. They both love the smell of dirt. (but who doesn't?) Not so much the fresh tar on the street, or the garbage truck as it drives by. So maybe you don't have a bionic nose-how can you encourage your kids (and yourself) to notice more of the world of smell? Next time you're on a walk, challenge yourself to smell ten different things (or let the kids pick the number)-be they plants, fence posts, your neighbor's wet dog running past. Just notice things, or actually make a point to stop and sniff.

Hearing: In the city, especially, it's easy to get used to tuning out sounds. In my neighborhood, there is car traffic as well as almost constant air traffic-a lot to tune out. It's often hard to pick out anything else. But, we love to try. We listen in layers: What do you hear besides the cars? Besides the planes? We close our eyes and listen. (Closing your eyes really does help! It shuts out the other stimuli) They can pick out the birds, the dog barking down the street, the kids playing on the slide nearby. What else can you hear? I ask them. They can pick out the water lapping on the shoreline, the wheels of a stroller. Try this sometime: Go someplace. The park, the forest, your yard. A street corner. Close your eyes. Put up one finger for each sound you hear. You don't have to identify it. In fact, if you make an agreement that you don't have to know what the sound is, it may help you hear more sounds. How many can you hear? (Note: I have found that this is also a wonderful way to "get centered" when I'm stressed out. Brings me right back to the present moment.)

Got any fun sensory games to share? I'd love to hear 'em.

The story of the stump and the log

2009-08-13T11:15:00.000-07:00

Recently I happened to drive past a place where the city's forestry department was doing some tree work. Excited, I lept out of the car and described my grand plan for the back yard. Forester Man just shrugged and said, "Sure.Pick out a couple logs." Then he cheerfully carried them to my car. Hooray! I am so grateful! Thank you Minneapolis Park Board.

Something interesting (and unexpected) has happened. At first, the kids were thrilled. That first day they spent a lot of time climbing, balancing and dancing on the log and the stump. But now, the novelty has worn off. When we're outside playing, the kids seem to forget about them. They often play "around" them, rather than integrating them into their play. When they do "remember" that they're there, they love them, and do lots of climbing, piling rocks on them, lying down on the log, etc. But still, it's as if they view the plastic stuff as "toys" and the other stuff (stump, log) as "not toys." So how do I blur that line for them?

Without making a big deal out of it, I try to include them whenever we play: piling sand and rocks and flowers onto them, sitting on the stump to watch the birds, using the log as a lookout tower. Lining up J's endless collection of vehicles on the log, to see if it can hold them all. This week we'll do some crayon rubbings on the bark and paint with water on the stump. Maybe we'll have a snack on the log. We might gather up all of our rocks and arrange them on the log. We'll see.

With reminders and encouragement, the kids seem to easily incorporate the log and stump into our play. What's more, they really enjoy it. I think it's just going to be a matter of time and habit.
So, at the risk of sounding like a total treehugging freak, I am nurturing the relationship between my kids and the log and stump!

stormy weather

2009-08-10T07:47:00.001-07:00

Are your kids scared of storms? Mine go back and forth. Sometimes they love 'em, sometimes not so much. If there is a rainstorm during the day, what fun! We are outside in rain gear, splashing away, collecting the rain in buckets, watching the flowers in our garden get drenched.

What helps my kids relax about storms is to watch them, experience them, and talk about them. It's great to find ways to have fun in the rain. Even a simple walk down the street can be a real treat during a storm. When a nighttime storm happens, remembering the fun we've had playing in rain during the day can be a real comfort. Think about it: when we head inside at the first sign of rain, what does that communicate to our kids?

Thursday night's storm was a real doozy. The lightning and loud thunder went on for a couple of hours in the night. I knew L would be pretty freaked by this one. Sure enough, when I opened her bedroom door and crept in, I found her with her hands over her ears, and her face squashed into her pillow. She was sweating. (J slept right through it!)

I brought her to my bed, which is surrounded on all sides by windows. There is a wonderful, spreading silver maple just outside the window. I perched her on my lap and held her tight. Although it was the middle of the night, the city lights, and the frequent bursts of lightning kept the yard pretty well lit. We watched the rain. We watched the tree moving in the wind, and I rocked her with that same rhythm. When the sky lit up with lightning, I held her tight and told her she was safe.

Then, I started pointing out what I could see, and asking her to tell me what she could see. Once she started noticing the familiar she seemed to feel more comfortable, and it helped her mellow out considerably:

We watched the limbs wave back and forth in the rain.

We watched the raindrops pour down over stuff in the yard: my wheelbarrow, the lawnchairs, the sandbox, the birdbath.

I pointed out the garden, and described the water going down into the soil, so the plants could slurp it up with their roots.

We listed animals that were so happy it was raining: The ducks on the lake. The birds in the trees, getting a bath and splashing in the puddles. The squirrels in the trees, getting their fur wet and clean.

We remembered times that she and J and I have splashed in puddles and played in the rain.

And, of course, we talked about thunder. I didn't bother explaining to her that thunder is created by the sudden burst of heated air from the lightning. I didn't go into details about electrons flying around in the sky (a.k.a. lightning). I simply told her that thunder is the sound made by two heavy clouds bumping into each other way up in the sky. The clouds are heavy because they are full of water. A little "scientific license" is necessary sometimes. Heavy clouds, she can relate to. Electrons and air pressure? We'll get to that, later.

Since we didn't go out in the middle of the night, the next day, we checked out the effects of the storm. We looked at puddles. Splashed in them. We checked out the garden, plants still drooping and heavy with the rain. We felt the dirt, felt the softness, smelled the richness of the wet soil. We needed to get up close and personal with the rainstorm. This takes some of the mystery away, and it's good for kids to see that everything's OK, and for the most part, still the same, even after a loud, wet, long rainstorm. Wet and soggy and muddy, but OK.

Got to love the lake!

2009-08-05T08:22:00.000-07:00

We head to the lake whenever it's warm enough to swim without our teeth rattling. Our closest one is Lake Harriet, but Minneapolis is just full of great swimming holes/nature adventures waiting to happen.

Here are my top ten reasons for loving our wonderful urban lakes:

10. Sand, sand, sand. An endless supply of it. The kids make towers, riverbeds, and ice cream cones in the sand. And who doesn't love having their feet and legs buried?

9. L's brilliant creation: Sand Angels. (think of snow angels, in summer)

8. The glorious cocktail of smells! Seriously! Have you ever noticed all the smells in the air on a summer day near the water? Take your kids to the lake and ask them what they can smell.

7. The tiny fish in Lake Harriet. I believe they are sunfish. My kids are positively thrilled whenever they appear. L is determined to "get one" by catching it with her hands. You go, girl. I love that they are not afraid to play in a lake when there are fish around! (when I was a kid, my mom was utterly horrified by the thought of this, and therefore so was I, and so we rarely if ever swam in lakes)

6. Our urban lakes are home to lots of cool birds including mallards, canada geese, American Coots, and even, in early spring, the Common Loon. My kids love to watch around the lake. And these are great ones to watch: not afraid of people, generally easy to spot, fairly slow-moving, and active throughout the day.

5. The water is generally warm enough that the kids are happy to play and play and play in it. For a really long time. Lake water is so different from pool water. It feels different on the skin. No chlorine. (although the lakes are decidedly NOT chemical free, not by a long shot) Water has an amazing ability to soothe the soul, no? Have you ever laid down in the water, with just your face exposed?

4. Swimming with unseen animals and plants is something I believe everyone should experience. How else are your kids going to learn that this is safe, OK, fun even? See # 7 above.

3. I realize I am a total geek, but I love having the chance to see the great big Milfoil Harvester, whirring around on the lake.

2. Sometimes, it's really windy, and L loves to watch the waves. Sometimes it's loud and makes interesting noises, and it always feels very exciting to be near water that's moving in this way. I remember the first time L experienced this. She hugged her kitty, "Sad Johnny" and just watched and watched the lake.

1. You just never know what you're going to come across.

natural play spaces

2009-08-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

No, this photo wasn't taken in my back yard. Don't I wish. We took a trip to one of my favorite places last week, and as usual I left feeling totally inspired to make the yard even more kid-friendly and a better natural play space. When I take the kids out to play in nature, I'm always delighted at the things they come up with to do. Climbing, jumping, pushing, pulling, dumping-- it's better "large muscle activity" than any plastic playground, it really is.

Here's my wish list:

some good, climbable rocks
a log or two, for climbing, balancing, and scooting around on
more sand: heaps and heaps of it
shrubs, or willow walls or something, for secret "hiding places"

We're off to a pretty good start. The yard is just full of bare dirt which I sweet-talked the Lyndale Avenue construction crew into delivering one afternoon. After using the dirt to correct some landscaping errors, I heaped up the leftovers under an ash tree, where nothing seems willing to grow anyway. This has has provided the kids with hours of fun-they've shaped it into a road, a river, a "town" and of course, it's endlessly good for dumping into the water table or the swimming pool. I want to add sand to "The Dirt Pile" (as we affectionately call it) so it's not quite so muddy and prone to washing away, and then just have a dedicated area in the backyard which would serve as a large "sandbox"--and finally ditch our plastic "tugboat" sandbox, with tiny built-in seats, which my tailbone hates.

So, my next project is to find a good log or two. I have a friend who works at a tree care company, so I've asked him if he can score me one. I'm also scouting my mother's back yard, which borders on a wetland. Surely there must be a reasonably-sized log out there somewhere. If all else fails, check this out. I can actually buy a "natural balance beam" (also known as a log) online. Ah, gotta love free enterprise. Why does this surprise me? You can buy dirt, and rocks, why not logs too? It is just me, or does this seem just a little too weird?

strange and wonderful

2009-07-29T20:56:00.001-07:00

What was I thinking not telling you this? We were in our first Art Car parade. We decided to make an art car after I co-taught a class this winter with an art car artist from the area. She was such an inspiration, and I thought it would be a great way to teach...an art car is such a great way to get people talking and asking questions, and what better way to teach about the environment? So we came up with a theme (water), worked with an artist to make a sketch on the car, and brought the car to a few community events where it was painted and decorated with love. Now my kids flat out refuse to ride in The Other Car.

This past weekend we cruised around Lake Harriet with lots of other art cars, some beautiful, some slightly scary, but all very unique and creative. There were also Art Bikes, weaving through traffic...and we even saw Santa on roller skates. The kids loved it and we learned which one of us is the social butterfly of the family (hint: it's not me). We had a fantastic time. Click here for a news clip from after the parade. Note: the website makes you sit through a short commercial before the news clip comes on. Bleah

PS: the whole teaching-with-a-car-thing? It's going pretty well. Kids everywhere really respond to the car and want to love it up and touch it. Adults ask questions. OK, they're less often about water quality than about Art Cars in general, but still, it seems to make people smile.

And, sadly, this is the best picture I currently have of the car! I'll go and get a better one as soon as there is some daylight.

search and find

2009-07-27T17:15:00.000-07:00

The summer weekends are too incredible to spend inside. And summer is just too darn short. As soon as we were fed and dressed on Saturday, we headed out the door to a park that's close to home but one we rarely visit. It's just off the freeway and despite the constant, low roar coming off of I-94, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We snuck off the trail and down a steep, rocky slope to the riverbank and stood watching the Mississippi roll on by.

It was a perfect morning: candy-puff clouds dotting the blue, blue sky, the water twinkling in the sunshine. L and J stood quietly for a second or two at the water's edge and then proceeded to collect rocks. L would stand at the very edge of the water, then hoist a rock overhead, and drop it into the water with a satisfying plunk. D and I enjoyed the time to ourselves as this game literally kept the two of them occupied for 15 minutes.

When they started to tire of the rock-throwing game, I challenged them to a search-and-find. This is one of my favorite outdoor activities with young kids-it's so great to help them develop focus and notice details. The game is great for any age, you can tailor the details to what you think your kids will be able to find. "Can you find a rock with stripes?" I'd ask. Then they would each wander, head bent, searching, searching.

The choices are virtually limitless with a game like this. I had them search for:

spotty rocks
the tiniest rock you can find
the biggest rock you can lift with one hand
a round rock
a gray rock
a white rock
a rock that wants to be in the river (and of course, they happily obliged the rock's desire)
a rock that feels smooth
a rock that feels bumpy

And on and on. The game can turn into an organizing game, a matching game, and a classifying game too. (if you want to get all academic) Of course, they are also learning about textures and other physical qualities. It's also great to let them come up with the categories and the adult to do the searching. Like I said, it's a nice way to help little ones develop the ability (and the practice) of noticing details. And of course, you don't need to use rocks-just use whatever's there: leaves, flowers, etc. Try it! Let me know how it works for you and yours.

inspiration

2009-07-26T09:53:00.001-07:00

What fun! Friday I co-taught a class on Project Learning Tree's early childhood section...there were 25 teachers! Including my former ECFE teacher. Exciting to see so many educators committed to getting kids outside. We chatted about barriers to participation (sadly, the number one barrier these educators cited was parents who don't want their kids playing outside!), creative ideas for bringing nature indoors, and the many, many benefits of getting kids outside: healthier kids who develop a lifelong connection to the outdoors.....what more could we want?

The class was held at Maplewood Nature Center, where they are in the process of installing an early-childhood focused "natural play" area, complete with a kid-sized footbridge, stepping stones, boulders to climb on, and charming nooks and hiding places off a short wooded path. It's a long drive, but well worth the trip.

Off to celebrate L's birthday today at her grandma's house.

the basics of bug-collecting

2009-07-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

"I love ants!" She says, about a hundred times a day.

No longer content to simply watch them, the other day she decided she wanted to bring some inside. Our new "pets" are seven tiny ants, rounded up from the back yard and lovingly relocated to a plastic food storage container. She carries the container around the house and the ants have been sharing a room with the kids. Luckily, they're pretty quiet and don't keep the kids up all night.

If you have a young'un who wants to bring some bugs home-there's not much to it.

First, supplies:

A decent bug net is great, if you have one. Those plastic numbers with huge holes (commonly sold as souvenirs at places like zoos and nature centers) are basically worthless. They're flimsy and the small bugs can easily escape the holes.What's best is a "sweep net"-a muslin net sewn around a wire ring, and attached with duct tape to a broom handle. I'll find a link to a super-easy pattern. If you don't have a net or don't want to make one, don't sweat it. Most bugs are pretty easy to scoop up in your hands or,
A plastic container such as a "to-go" container from the deli. You can use the fancy "official bug jar" kind with a magnifier for a lid, but you really don't need to. Clear plastic containers allow for easy viewing from all sides and the top. Do I need to mention, a lid is critical?

Where to go:

Go outside. Go anywhere. You can find a great assortment of those tiny, cute little black ants (sugar ants) on just about any sidewalk. If you must, pour something sweet on the sidewalk. Return in an hour or so and will likely find a party going on.
If you are into more exotic insects like grasshoppers, stink bugs, and the like, head to a place with tall grasses.
For walking sticks, sowbugs, and assorted spiders, head to a shady, wooded area, turn over a log or dig around under the leaves. You're also likely to find some worms this way.
If you prefer butterflies and moths, you need a large flexible container to keep them in. Check here for a pattern on how to make one.

How-to:

If you're using a sweep net, sweep it rapidly back and forth in the grass a few times. Slowly turn it inside out, gently dumping the insects you find into your collecting container.
If you don't have a net, don't worry about it. Just plop down wherever you are and pick up the bugs with your hands. Don't use a pinching motion, that will likely crush the bugs. Just scoop them into your palm gently, then drop them into the container.
Don't want to touch the bugs? No biggie-just use a leaf or a stick to scoop them up. The kids and I make a game of just holding a leaf, putting it in the path of the ant (or whatever crawling insect you prefer) and letting it climb onto the leaf. You can then lower the leaf into your container without any physical contact with the bug. (this is how I collect caterpillars)

Getting them home:

Don't worry about poking air-holes in the container, unless you plan to keep your bugs for a long time (more than a few days). Insects consume a lot less oxygen than we do, so the air available in a typical pint container is plenty to sustain them. If it makes your kids feel better to have air holes, fine. Just make sure they are small enough that the bugs can't get out.
Make sure to add a little something from the bugs' natural habitat. Long pieces of grass from the prairie, or some leaf litter and rotting wood from the forest floor. They'll need to keep eating while in captivity, and they'll also appreciate the cover provided by the leaves. Some caterpillars have only one food source. So if you find a caterpillar, make sure to bring home a few of the leaves you found it eating.
Be gentle. Remind your kids to hold the container upright, and not shake it. Bugs are fragile and their legs and wings will break (or worse) if handled roughly.
After you've enjoyed your insects, you can make a game out of releasing them. Since many species depend on specific habitats and food sources found in those habitats, it's really a good idea to return to the place where you collected them.

Caterpillars aren't my favorite.

2009-07-13T14:43:00.000-07:00

Once, I helped gut and skin a road-killed deer. (It was my first day on a new job, I couldn't say no!) I have buried animal carcasses in my yard just to dig them up months later and examine the bones. I've spent hours digging through the mud I've dredged up from stream bottoms, in search of crawdads, snails, insect exoskeletons, and other such treasures.

It does take a lot to gross me out. But there is one thing that creeps me out big-time, despite my best intentions. Caterpillars. Eew. The ugly truth is, I can't stand them. Unless they are behind glass or in some other confined space well away from me, it makes my skin crawl just to look at them.

So when L's school held a picnic in a park that was literally crawling with them, I nearly went out of my mind.

When it comes to being with kids in nature, I believe it's important to keep your own fears and negative attitudes out of the picture. Really, if you hate bugs or you can't stand being outdoors at night, your kids will definitely pick up on that and they will start to "adopt" that same attitude toward creatures.

Perhaps that's where I developed this aversion to caterpillars. My mother hated them. I have distinct memories of her, reacting with fear and panic when she came across an inchworm inching across my back one day when I was young. For years, I was terrified, and I do mean terrified of caterpillars of all kinds.

As a naturalist, I am a bit sheepish about admitting it, but this was a full-blown phobia I had for a while. I actually managed to work through this awful condition with hypnosis, but that's another story for another time.

So what was once a paralyzing phobia is now really only mild discomfort, so I can generally tolerate the presence of caterpillars without freaking out. And this takes some mental gymnastics. But I do OK. I prefer not to hold them or touch them, and when in the presence of them, I think mostly of the butterfly or moth they will become, and I do OK. And kids everywhere seem to love them. And that's really pretty cool. I get excited about that. So that helps me forget my discomfort a bit too.

Back to the school picnic. Glorious summer day. Dozens of kids frolicking on picnic blankets, eating ice cream, and dancing and playing in a wonderful park full of oak trees. We were having a great time, until I looked down and saw a few caterpillars crawling on the edge of a picnic blanket. Hmm. No biggie. Suddenly I realized that there were caterpillars all over the place. In the grass, on the tree trunks. On people's lunches.

Kids were picking them up, carrying them around. A cluster of kids had gathered around one little girl and when she turned to look at me she had a handful of them, they were crawling up and down her arms, on her shoulders. She was delighted!

Lucy approached me with one, curled up in her hand. "Look, mommy! A callerpiller! Do you want to hold it?" aw, crap.

So, while, yes, I firmly believe that I need to check my attitude and fear at the door, so to speak, so as not to taint my kids' experiences of nature and all manner of critters, I'm also a firm believer in honesty. 'Tis a fine line.

"Yep, honey, it sure is." Deep breath. "I don't want to hold it, caterpillars aren't my favorite. But thanks." She gently put it back on a tree, bless her sweet little heart. J followed her, and, with one tiny finger, stroked its back as it crawled up the tree trunk. They watched it together as I beat back the panic I was starting to feel.

I tried to focus on all these kids having such a great time, making friends with the caterpillars, naming them, organizing caterpillar races. They were so excited. It was great. There must have been thousands of caterpillars, and the many of the kids were just thrilled to be able to see them up close. (note: Nature geek that I am, I have since learned that these were Forest Tent Caterpillars, and this was a pretty typical infestation. It's likely there were actually several million of the darn thing in this particular park. I'm so glad I didn't know this at the time.)

A part of my brain was saying, "Get me out of here! They're everywhere!" And I was trying not to scream. And trying not to look like a complete freak, brushing off my back and feeling my hair to make sure I had none crawling on me. What I really wanted to do was grab my kids and run. Just get out of the park.

Luckily, it was almost time to leave anyway. I managed to very calmly herd J and L back to our pile of stuff, which I realized was probably crawling with caterpillars. (It was.) I shook out our blanket. I picked up our picnic bag. We made our way out of the park. We crossed the road, across which a few dozen caterpillars were scooting. L wanted to stop and watch. I let her, while I loaded up the car and strapped J in to the car seat. "There they go, Mommy, off to find some leaves to eat!" she said happily.

I was exhausted from the effort of holding it together. My skin was crawling. I wanted to appear calm, unfazed. Deep breaths. They don't need to know I'm freaking out. It's OK for them to know there are some things I'm not comfortable with. I just don't want them to feel so afraid, like I did. Like I do right now.

On the way home, I kept thinking of how scared I got as a kid that time my mom freaked out about a caterpillar. I really, really don't want my kids to feel that way about caterpillars, or anything in nature for that matter. At least, not unless they get to that place on their own. I had to keep it together. And, I did the best I could. I was bummed that I couldn't share their joy. I was disappointed that I couldn't play with the caterpillars with my kids.

But at least I didn't run screaming from the park. I didn't lose my head and completely freak out. And that's got to count for something. Sometimes, it's enough for me to appreciate that my kids can appreciate something.

She hit him in the face! With a bag of rocks!

2009-07-10T20:22:00.000-07:00

Cripes. I never saw that one coming.

The kids spent a lovely day at their grandma's house, and she was happy to indulge their newest hobby, rock hunting. They love to choose a special rock whenever we find ourselves out and about. Sometimes, J will pick one up and just carry it with him. Or he might stop to examine it with all his senses, rubbing it, smelling it, and often, licking it. (What better way to truly know a rock, after all?) L often sits down where she is, and scans the area for a special rock. When she finds it, and she always does, she crams it (or, more likely, them) into her pocket (or mine) and it comes home with us. Some rock hunting trips are only limited by our ability to bring the rocks home.

I totally understand this. I've been doing it all my life. I love rocks. I've taken geology three times in college and once again during my Master's program. I cried the first time I saw the Grand Canyon. I felt so still and safe there, among the quiet and ancient rocks. There are rocks that make me feel a little bit sad, almost wistful, like the ones along Lake Superior's shoreline. There are rocks that make me feel a little scared, like the jagged basalt in the Boundary Waters. The white sandstone chunk that I picked up in Southern California makes me feel a little giddy and silly. I have no idea why. Sometimes, rocks can just call out to a person. I just sometimes feel as if I 'connect' to certain rocks. Does this happen to you? If my kids are starting to feel this way, hey, who am I to stop them?

Then again, they might just like the diversity of shapes, colors, textures, and sizes. Which, of course, is equally valid.

Remember the treasure boxes we made? L's is now almost exclusively dedicated to rocks. We've sorted our rocks, organized them (I like to let the kids decide on the categories we use) and traced them on paper. We've done crayon rubbings of their textures. We've painted with rocks, using them as "brushes." We've glued rocks to paper and played hide-and-seek with rocks. (note: this game works best inside) Our rocks are game pieces, money, and characters in dramatic stories that unfold on rainy days. Our rocks take sun baths in the windowsills and we wash them in the tub.

Once, we were on a nature walk and she had an especially precious rock that she'd connected with. She'd been carrying it for about an hour, when she exuberantly took off down the trail....and tripped. The rock went flying. Of course, she was in tears by the time I caught up to her, and she wanted her rock back. I hadn't actually examined the rock, so I didn't even know what I was looking for. The best I could get from her in terms of details were "it's whitish, and it looks sort of like a heart." I searched off and on the trail for a good 20 minutes, every so often picking up what I thought was "her" rock....only to be told sadly, "that isn't my rock."

Leaving the Peace Garden that day was tough. We went home with only J's rock. (Which was lovely, by the way. My geologist neighbor could tell you more about it. I can only tell you it was black and smooth.) Every so often L picks up a rock where we are, and looks it over, and says, "Mama, do you think this might be that rock that I lost at the Peace Garden?" Then, as quickly as she asks, she realizes that no, it isn't. This is sad, people.

But, I digress.

Today, the kids left Grandma's house with a few special rocks of their choosing. J, as usual, had chosen just one special rock. He cradled it in his blankey during the car ride home. L couldn't settle on just one rock, so she held a ziploc bag with 7 beauties in it. We were driving home, playing with the windows, commenting on cars, buildings, and whatever else we could come up with to entertain ourselves during the drive...when suddenly, I heard a weird noise and J was screaming. Screaming.

I yanked the car off the highway onto a side street at about 50 miles an hour so I could check to see if his face was OK, trying to remain calm. "HONEY!" I yelled. "We never, never, never hit someone in the face with a bag of rocks!" (The things you find yourself saying when you have kids....

He's fine, of course. No blood, no broken teeth. But lots of crying, lots of screaming. L was immediately sorry she hit him, and said over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am sorry I hurt you, J"

When I think about the "hazards of nature" that keep people from letting their kids play outdoors, injuries are certainly among them. It has long been identified as one of the main barriers that some parents face. But I don't think this is what is forefront at people's minds. Except, of course, J's.

Incidentally, here's a place to check out some research related to "risk" involved in playing outdoors. Interesting stuff.

and another thing...

2009-07-10T14:03:00.001-07:00

Would someone please explain to me why the new "Ice Age" movie is called "Dawn of the Dinosaurs?" I thought this movie starred an ensemble of mammals. I've not seen the movie, but thte title seems to suggest that dinosaurs will arrive in numbers to cavort with the mammals.

Um, movie people? You might want to check on the timeline. Dinosaurs were on Earth before mammals.

I confess

2009-07-10T12:49:00.000-07:00

I'm not always stopping to smell the flowers, meandering along, communing with nature. Lest you get tired of my tree-hugger ways, I'll tell you what happened this morning.

L had swimming lessons. The place where she takes lessons has a wonderfully landscaped entrance--it's practically a park in it's own right--complete with shade trees, a winding path, the soothing trickle of a waterfall, a stream, and gorgeous flowers (mostly natives!) On the way in and out of her class each week, we usually stop so that she can climb on the welcoming hunks of granite that appear here and there along the path. Or, we'll smell the flowers, as we did a month ago when the branches of the elders were drooping, positively dripping with blossoms. Or, we might just stop on the bridge that crosses a shallow, clear stream. We'll look down into the water and watch the silvery fish dart around, or maybe search for animal tracks in the soft mud along the streambank.

One week, we saw a huge and ancient snapping turtle dozing on a rock in the stream, its pointy snout turned sunward. Once, we heard frogs that grew silent when we approached. And the highlight, of course, was the "duck-uh-lings" as L calls them. We watched those sweet balls of fluff totter around on the streambank for what seemed like an hour last time L had a swimming class. She was so excited to find out that they had also spent the morning learning to swim.

On the way in to her class this morning, we ambled along. Searched for flowers among the lush green growth of summer. Listened for birdsong (and identified three species!) Scanned the stream for ducks as we crossed the bridge. Then we spotted a lone male mallard resting in the water. We watched him for a while. He didn't move, so we speculated about what he might be dreaming about. Flying? His babies? Fire trucks? Eventually the kids grew intrigued by the shadows of some leaves dancing in the breeze and we moved on. It was great to have some time to spare this morning so that I could follow their lead, we could meander, and they could stop and look at whatever caught their attention.

But oh, after class. I was in such a hurry to go. Both of my hands were full, and J was in the stroller. He was not happy about being strapped in, so he was screaming, and it was hot, and L was whining because she was hungry, and she wouldn't walk fast enough and I had a ton of work to do and errands to run and my mom had agreed to take the kids for the afternoon. So, I wanted to get to her house in Minnetonka so that I'd be able to get back to my house in the city and have a few hours to work before I had to get back to her house in Minnetonka, get the kids, and get back home to the city. Whew. And somewhere in there I had a few errands to run.

I was stressed, crabby, and I had a headache from slugging a huge cup of dark roast and not eating anything. I wanted to get the kids to mom's so I could work. I was hot. The scent of chlorine wafting off us all was getting on my nerves. I was hungry.

So when dear L tried to stop and feel a soft-looking plant, I rushed her on: "Come on honey, not today." When J pointed at a dark bird swooping through the sky, I didn't stop, "Yep, that's probably a grackle, let's keep going, guys." And when L crept silently to the edge of the bridge and said to me in a stage whisper, "Let's see if that duck is still sleeping" I glanced into the stream, and the duck was still there. Without a moment's hesitation, I said, "Nope, he's gone, I don't see him. Looks like the duck flew away," and I rushed them both across the bridge to the car.

Would it have killed me to stop for three minutes to look at the duck? No. And I wish I had. At the time, I felt so rushed and annoyed, though, that I wouldn't have stopped if it were a spectacled eider.

When the stars align, and I can pull it off, I do love it when I manage to allow enough time for us to be leisurely instead of having to rush. When I can let the kids lead, and I follow. If they feel compelled to stop along the way and watch a duck, hey great, I'm all for it. But today? It just didn't work. I wasn't up for it. Maybe next week the duck will still be sleeping. I hope so.

Buzz-kill.

2009-07-08T08:48:00.001-07:00

We haven't had dinner inside since Father's day. We got D a gas grill, and he loves it! He and the kids have probably eaten more meat in the past three weeks than in the past three years combined, thanks to the wonders of propane and a good set of tongs. I've learned to make a pretty mean grilled sandwich with fresh mozzarella and basil. (well, OK, D still does the grilling but boy can I slice those tomatoes!)

I love eating outside! Be in on a picnic blanket, a fancy table or just a patch of grass, there is just something special about food consumed under the blue sunny skies of summer, no? We have this great old silver maple whose branches just drape over the back yard, creating a delicious breeze and dappled shade. Our "dining set" is an old, rusty number I scored at a yard sale for $25 years ago. The thing is charming since I coated it with "cornflower blue" spray paint.

Dinner was positively lovely the other evening, a sunny, breezy night. We had just sat down to feast on the vinegar-and-salt roasted potatoes (Yum!) that I had made when our party was spoiled by -who else-a bee.

To say that L freaked would be an understatement. She screamed so loud I was worried the neighbors would call 911. She pretty much lept into my arms and buried her face in my neck, screaming the whole time.

We retreated to the safety of the kitchen where she managed to calm down a little bit, and I explained to her that bees are mostly harmless, that they don't want to hurt people, they only sting when scared, and that they actually die if they sting. Oh, and they do something pretty neat: help spread the plants and flowers that we love. Help the plants that grow fruits. But I backed off on that angle. She was so not there yet. She was still fearful and freaked out.

Since she is still fuzzy on the whole "death" thing, I explained: "The stinger is at the very end of the bee. And when the bee stings, the back of their body rips off. And that hurts the bee too. So, you see, they don't really want to sting you."

A couple of days later, she was still asking me to explain this. "Mommy, tell me what happens to a bee when it stings you?" "Mommy, why does the bee's body rip apart?" So I told her, again and again.

I love bees. And although I was tempted to seize this as a "teachable moment" and expound on the virtues of bees, I also recognized that she was still in a place of fear. Rather than inundate the girl with facts and information about how great bees really are, what an important role they play in nature, I just wanted her to not be afraid. That's the first step toward appreciation. After all, she's not going to give a hoot what bees do if she's terrified of them. Right now, she just needs to know she's safe around bees.

In our mail that afternoon was the DNR's great magazine, the Volunteer, and this month's issue had a feature on bees! Wonderful! We got to look close-up at the bodies of different species of bees, and L actually saw how cute and fuzzy the little things are! She was really interested in the pictures and picked a few "favorites" from a page with a dozen or so pictures. Here's a link to a great article on bees from that magazine. I mentioned very briefly that bees help spread plants around, and help fruits and flowers grow.

My hope, of course, is to help her move from fear to curiosity. I want her be intrigued enough by what they do, that she is curious and wants to learn more. So, the next day when we made strawberry popsicles, I had to put in a good word for the bees who pollinated the strawberry plants.

cool bee links to check out:
http://www.gpnc.org/honeybee.htm
And did you know the honeybee population is on the decline? It's scary and true. Something big is happening, and scientists are not sure what. Read more about "colony collapse disorder" at this link:
http://www.ars.usda.gov/is/pr/2009/090519.htm

Summer in the city

2009-07-03T01:25:00.000-07:00

Spent a lovely evening at one of our favorite places. We packed a picnic dinner, which although passable, wasn't what I would consider nutritious or interesting. (fried chicken, pasta salad, watermelon. Fudge stripe cookies. Yawn.) Despite the boring food (which the kids weren't into anyway, come on, what can compete with the trees and a gloriously green park on a summer evening?) we had a wonderful time. There was a live tango band playing in the pavilion, and lots of family picnics and revelry. Red white and blue balloons, people grilling, kids playing and screaming, dogs barking.

There was, for some strange reason, a pile of freshly pruned branches and twigs scattered about the ground, and for several of the kids at the park, (mine included) this provided fodder for a game I call "gather up the leaves into a pile and throw them into the air"--it was great to see kids ranging in age from 1 to probably 8, all coming up with an impromptu game, then playing together and enjoying nature, despite the fact that they didn't know each other at all. And with no parental involvement or direction. It was cool to watch the game just "happen" spontaneously.

The game ended poorly, as games sometimes do, with one boy, I'd guess him to be about 4, getting mad for some reason, picking up a branch, and just whacking the crap out of a smaller boy, I'd guess to be about 2. The older boy's parents were watching but didn't intervene. The 2 year old wasn't physically hurt, but he was clearly upset and stood off to the side for the rest of the time the game went on. Just watching. It was sad, and I felt a little weird about it. I wanted the parents to intervene, or to have the bully make peace somehow. They didn't seem to care at all about what had happened, they just ordered the boy to the sidewalk with them so they could walk on. I felt sorry for the 2 year old.

L and J saw the incident happen, and stood quietly watching while it was "going down" but quickly moved on. The drama of kid play never fails to surprise me. My kids were over it before I was, although they did lose interest completely in the leaf game after this happened.

L and J each had brought along a doll stroller and had great fun pushing their "babies" (stuffed cat and puppy, respectively) around under the huge, spreading oak trees. After the leaf drama, they resumed racing around and around with the strollers and pretending to "go home"-walking as far away from me as they comfortably could, (always turning around to make sure I was watching them go, and still within their sight), then turning around and racing back to me. Sometimes they even stopped to collect "spaghetti" for me on the way. (stacks and handfuls of thin twigs)

And the trees, oh, these trees were mammoth! And they just felt so, I don't know, happy to me. Was it all the happy people enjoying the first evening of a long holiday weekend, milling about beneath them? Was it the sunshine wrapping each and every leaf in warmth? (I could practically hear the leaves at work, photosynthesizing their bad ol' selves like nobody's business) Was it the fact that today was the first day it's been above 60 in days? Who knows? Who cares?

It's summer in the city. 'Bout time.

2009-06-29T08:07:00.000-07:00

Spent a rainy Saturday indoors, just me and the kids. D was at a pool tournament and so the kids and I had lots of time to work on puppets-their latest fascination. A favorite destination of ours is the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, where there is a wonderful free-play area for kids. Among the many things my kids love to play with are the "puppets" they have in a basket under a large sprawling oak tree. The puppets are nothing more than slices of trees, round discs of tree, cut thinly. Kids can use pencils to draw faces on them or just let the design of the wood be a face. There is a stage which they can hide behind to perform puppet plays. For the longest time J delightedly referred to every piece of fallen wood he saw as a "puppet!"

This weekend, however, the puppets became so much more elaborate. Fueled by excitement from having seen a puppet show in a friends' yard (community theater at its best!) the kids wanted to make their own troupe of characters. We got out the pipe cleaners, pom poms, styrofoam balls, and I weilded the glue gun (at L's precise direction, of course) and by the time the afternoon was drawing to a close, we had a lively bunch: an octopus, a "quad-pus", a cat, and several butterflies. I was treated to several exciting puppet shows as the weekend wore on. None of the kids felt inspired to make a human puppet. (oh, they are so my children!)

Something else I'd been meaning to make with the kids that we finally tackled: treasure boxes. These are simple decorated boxes for the kids to keep their very special items in. Our house is filled with clutter and toys, and we needed someplace really special to keep our nature treasures. The kids each got a plain cardboard box with lid, and decorated it with crayons. L put her growing feather collection (which now amounts to three feathers: a woodpecker, cardinal, and turkey feather--this last one a souvenir from the puppet show), her favorite rocks and a couple of shells she scored on our last trip to the St Croix River. I'm not sure she needs to know that the shells are from Zebra Mussels, the highly invasive and absolutely harmful species that is taking over Minnesota's waterways.

For now, she's delighted to open the box and tell me the story of each treasure inside. And I'm delighted to listen.

rainbow

2009-06-25T15:04:00.000-07:00

this morning J and I stopped at the "dandelion fountain" --a place I remember from my own childhood (though, I'm not sure why...we rarely ventured into the city when I was young. Hm.) The kids have been fascinated by this since they first saw it earlier this week when we were driving around killing time, waiting for L's preschool program to start. As soon as we dropped L off at school J started requesting a trip.

It rained early this morning, one of those wonderful, early summer rains, dumping buckets of fat raindrops all over, with the low rumbles of thunder urging me out of bed. I love summer thunderstorms. By the time we dropped L off at school the rain had stopped and the sun was out. The grass in Loring park was wet and the sidewalks were steamy.

We walked around the fountain and watched the water pour from one pool to the next. We felt the spray of mist on our faces. J watched a pigeon land and we listened to its wings, like crisp fabric flapping as it took off. Another bird landed on one of the drain thingies-and J was intrigued as it munched bugs and bits of seeds, then flew straight through the mist from the dandelion and off to a tree.

"Bath! Bath! Bird took bath!" he yelled.

Then he noticed the rainbow. The morning sun was shining through the droplets of water just so, and we were treated with a long, wide rainbow. J reached out eagerly. "Grab, grab" he said. "Touch rainbow"

"We can't touch the rainbow, because it's made of the sun hiding in the water." I told him.

"pleeeeeeease" he begged.

We watched the rainbow a few times, then the church bells started to peal in the distance. I'm not even religious but it was a moment I will never forget. A perfect moment with my sweet boy.

When it was time to go we walked around the fountain a couple of times, watching the rainbow disappear and reappear. "Bye rainbow," he said as we walked away, "lub you."

crushed

2009-06-20T13:34:00.000-07:00

Coaxing the kids through the back yard and into the car last week, I stepped on an ant. L stopped and crouched down while I was busy wrangling J and the ancillary "kid stuff" that seems to accompany us everywhere these days.

"Mama, why did you step on the ant?"
"uh, well, sweetie, I guess I just wasn't paying attention to where I was walking."
"But you squished it. It's not moving."
"Well, honey, I must have killed it. " I said sheepishly. "I'm so sorry." And I was. (Honestly, I really do usually try to avoid stepping on them.)

She gingerly picked it up and carried it to the car. I opened her door and she climbed in and set the ant ever-so-carefully into the cup holder of her booster seat. The girl was sad. I think it might be the first time L has seen something go from living to dead. I think she saw the finality of it: the ant was walking along, I stepped on it, and then it was dead.

We drove and drove, L asking over and over "Why did you step on the ant?" And me just repeating the same ol' thing, over and over. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

We've been in the car about a dozen times since this happened. The ant is still in her cup holder.

Children's literature

2009-02-06T09:16:00.000-08:00

Evaluating Childrens Literature-Fostering Respect for Nature

Some general guidelines:
• Look for books that portray nature and animals with authenticity.
• Avoid cartoonish images, animals in clothing, or caricatures of the natural world.
• Discuss with children the difference between “wild” animals and “domestic” animals.
• Consider the roles of animals in the story.
• When possible, choose books that portray nature, animals and the ecosystems children will encounter in their everyday lives.
• Choose books that present nature as a positive place to be.
• Avoid books about far away places or animals rarely seen or encountered.
• Avoid books which demonize certain animals or groups of animals (predatory animals, for example)
• Avoid books with factually inaccurate information (“a penguin’s fur is soft and smooth”—penguins don’t have fur!)
• Choose books which show nature, animals, and plants as important to society.
• Remember poetry, song, and oral storytelling!
• Does the story foster any stereotyping about nature or animals?
• Does the book demonstrate respect for nature?
• Does the story present environmental topics or themes that are appropriate to the age of the audience?
• What feelings is this story intended to provoke?
• How does this story present humans’ relationship with nature?
• In this story, is the future hopeful or bleak?

Evaluating Children's Literature by Patty Born Selly is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.myantsykids.blogspot.com.

About Small Wonders

2009-02-01T20:26:00.000-08:00

ABOUT SMALL WONDERS
Small Wonders is an educational consulting company specializing in nature and science.

Services include:
• Teacher workshops
• Teaching residencies
• Curriculum development and consultation
• Nature play area/Natural schoolyard consultation

ABOUT PATTY, founder of SMALL WONDERS
Patty has been involved in nature and science education for over a decade. Accomplishments include:

• Nature program and curriculum development for early childhood settings
• Teacher training on science education for early childhood (clients include Childrens Home Society and Family Services, Head Start)
• Teaching residencies in grades K-6 as a naturalist-in-residence and environmental educator
• Teacher of early childhood and homeschool science classes at the Science Museum of Minnesota
• Consultant to early childhood centers and settings on natural play, nature in the classroom, and inquiry-based science
• Facilitator of Project Learning Tree and Project Wild for Early Childhood, a program of the Minnesota DNR
• Instructor of “A Sense of Wonder: Nature Education for Early Childhood” at Hamline University (Spring 2010) Center for Global Environmental Education
• Instructor of “Special Topics in Early Childhood-Nature” at Metropolitan State University, (Fall 2010)
• Presenter at educator workshops and conferences. Program topics include nature and science in the early years, healthy environment, and more