I was raised by hippies. This meant that while many of my friends in the Bible Belt town I was raised in spent Sundays in church, my family spent it either at the flea market, or out in nature. It was something I didn’t enjoy, actually. I wanted to be the same. To not be the only little girl at the Wendy’s at noon on Sunday who was wearing jogging pants instead of a fancy dress. To not spend the day trapped in a car, listening to the music of my father’s youth, while we drove out to some remote location for a hike.
Now I have children of my own, though, and being a parent myself changes things. I want my kids to get outside. I want them to spend time running and playing, instead of sitting and watching. However, most of our outside time is logged on the playground, or in our own backyard. This is something that I am okay with, generally speaking. It’s easier, because while they play I can sit, or chat with a friend – or if they’re in our yard, I can make dinner or work. After my own tenuous relationship with hiking as a child, I haven’t made much of an effort to actually get out into the forest with my kids.
Yesterday, though, was a rare sunny day in January, and getting outdoors seemed like a good idea. I thought we’d visit a regional park with some easy walking trails, just to switch things up. It was the perfect day for it, and the mist creeping out across the lake lent the whole scene a magical, idyllic sort of an air. There was a thin layer of ice on the water, and my children were having fun tossing gravel on it, watching the pebbles bounce along the surface. As they did, I heard the strangest sound. It wasn’t just the sound of the rocks on top of the ice – you could hear the reverberation through the ice and the murky water below. As I listened, I paused to take in the scene around me. The way the light shone. The smells in the air.
Standing on that gravel trail, it hit me like a ton of bricks. There are things I want my children to know, that maybe I even need them to know. Things like the way that rotting logs smell on the forest floor – sweet and earthy, with a hint of something fungal. The tang of the huckleberries that grow in the forest shade in the height of summer. How to navigate the roots and the rocks. The casual, friendly etiquette that hikers share, as they pass on the trail. The way that it’s always darker in the forest, under the canopy of tall trees, silently keeping their watch. The thrill of achievement as you take in the view from the top of a mountain, a real mountain, that you climbed yourself.
For me, the forest here isn’t only the scene of the forced marches of my childhood. It’s also a constant feature of the area, a distinctive landscape of this place I call home. Of course, there are forests everywhere, but the truth is each forest is different. If you drive two hours east of here, the forest changes. The trees are shorter, the spaces between them bigger. This Pacific Northwest rainforest is one of the things I think of when I think of home. I want my children to feel at home in it, too. To know its tastes, smells, sounds and textures.
As I get older, I find myself returning to what I know more and more. Those experiences that shaped me and made me who I am. The touchstones of my past, for good or ill. Those lessons I learned while wading in cold streams, climbing trees or picking blackberries. I want to share them all with my children. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe not to the same soundtrack in the car. They are all part of who I am, part of their inheritance, picked up as I spent those Sundays in the place that was my parents’ truest spiritual home. Because while I do take my kids to church, I know that some lessons require a different sort of cathedral, roofed by branches and surrounded by all of creation.
Amen.
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Gorgeous pictures and a wonderful post! I love your description of that other cathedral, and quite agree that forests change with only an hour or two drive. I bet your kids will remember this walk. It’s one of those tricky parenting questions – trying to decide how much and in what way to share with our kids the things that make us individuals as well as mothers.
Melissa’s last post … Thin Ice
Twitter: AmberStrocel
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It is tricky – and I find my answers constantly evolving, as they did yesterday afternoon.
Twitter: MarilynBelsham
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Sounds like you and I spent a lot of our Sundays in very similar ways growing up. While I went to Catholic school my parents are anti-church so I never attended church outside of school hours. My parents also we fond of long drives into the mountains where I would have to follow them on hikes here and there. I seriously disliked Sundays as a kid.
Now that I’m grown my kids go to church just like yours, but we also do walks or go to the beach as well in the afternoons, so in a sense my kids are getting the best of both worlds.
Marilyn’s last post … My Infertility Journey and the Question of Publicly Funding IVF in BC
Twitter: AmberStrocel
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There’s nothing like being forced to do something, if you want to strip all the fun right out of it.
Twitter: eco_novice
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Ain’t that the truth. I think my dad was shocked to learn that any of his daughters voluntarily went camping as adults — for me, it was lovely to discover that camping IS fun without someone hanging over you MAKING you have fun and forcing you to look at the scenery. I mean, we were literally PAID to look out the window. I know my dad meant well – how could we miss the sites of Yosemite after all the effort it took to get us there? But of course it was futile. I kind of love the photos from those trips though. All lined up in front of some gorgeous scene, looking totally unimpressed/disinterested, like we’d just been woken up from our nap in the station wagon (likely) or, alternatively, just pissed. Love your posts so much, Amber!
Betsy (Eco-novice)’s last post … Hummus from Dried Beans in 5 Minutes
Twitter: AmberStrocel
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Thanks for the kind words, Betsy!
And truthfully, I haven’t tried camping since I hated it as a kid. Maybe I should give it a go again. It might be better if I set the rules.
I never grew up hiking but as an adult, and especially with children, we spend a lot of time out in nature. We live only a few minutes from a provincial park in which we find ourselves year round. I am big one for smells. I love spring when things are coming alive and in fall when things are dying. This past fall we spent 3 hours trecking through Stanley Park. IT was a glorious.
Heather’s last post … Size Doesn’t Matter
Twitter: AmberStrocel
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The smell of autumn leaves is one of my all-time favourites. Spring is my favourite season, but I think fall smells the best.
Twitter: kellynaturally
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Recongnizing our connection with our earth & everything around us is one of the most important gifts we can give our children (and thus, our children’s children’s children…) Nature IS religion. I love this post Amber. <3 <3 <3
kelly @kellynaturally’s last post … Stranger than Fiction
Twitter: AmberStrocel
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Aw, thanks for your kind words. And yes, we are all connected with everything. I see that more and more as I get older.