I am finally reading a book that has been on my to-read list for a very long time: Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. My sister and I recently attended a Saturday afternoon Zoom book discussion facilitated by Green Iowa AmeriCorps through the Iowa City Public Library. I am still in the process of reading the book, which is somewhat hard to read since it highlights how much of our natural areas and our connection to those areas that has been lost. All that being said, I do love the personal reflection and conversation this book has sparked so far.
My favorite chapter of the book (so far) is The Genius of Childhood: How Nature Nurtures Creativity, and specifically the sub-section Nature, Creativity, and Ecstatic Places in which the author ponders (among others) the research of Edith Cobb and her book The Ecology of Imagination in Children (which is also now on my to-read list!). The author writes that Cobb collected “some three hundred volumes of autobiographical recollections of childhood by creative thinkers from diverse cultures and eras. She concluded that inventiveness and imagination of nearly all of the creative people she studied was rooted in their early experiences in nature.” Wow! The author then quotes Cobb’s work directly: “Memories of awakening to the existence of some potential, aroused by early experiences of self and world, are scattered through the literature of scientific and aesthetic invention. Autobiographies repeatedly refer to the cause of this awakening as an acute sensory response to the natural world.” Of course!
What are your earliest sensory memories of the natural world? What are your “recollections of childhood” and your early experiences of nature?
Personally, I’ve had lots of fun pondering these questions, talking with my mom, looking at old photos, and sharing memories back and forth with my sister.
I remember Backbone State Park as a special place—an outstanding, ecstatic place—where my parents, my sister and I would go at least once a week. My earliest memory is walking in a sparkling stream, the water running over rocks that we used as stepping-stones to cross. I remember being gently lifted up out of the water and onto the bank. I know it was my mom or dad who lifted me, but I only remember the lifting part, like I was a bird. A little learning bird, ecstatic and surprised by nature.
I asked my mom how old I was when I was introduced to Backbone? She said, Oh you were a little baby. Four or five months old.
And how old was I the first time I went camping? Around sixteen months, she said.
At what age did we go on nature walks? (I remember the nature walks.) She said I would have been two-and-a-half or three.
Another special, ecstatic nature place of my childhood was my grandma’s farm. Although I can’t ask my grandma about nature memories since she passed away over fifteen years ago, I can go to the farm and to her in my mind. I can remember. And I can look back at family photos. I have several photos of my childhood nature experiences on the farm—photos that were taken by Grandma. Pictures she created for us, both by showing us and by letting us explore on our own. She wanted my sister and me to experience nature and also to learn. I remember running in a weaving pattern among three tiny trees. My grandma made sure to create a picture of that, so I might learn how fast trees (and children) would grow. And so I would remember. I love comparing that photo (taken when I had just turned six) with a photo of my sister and me by those same trees when we are in our early twenties. My, how we all grew.
Do you ever look at old childhood nature photos? What do you notice? What do you recollect? Where are your ecstatic places (a sparkling stream, in your grandma’s garden, in the woods)?
I will continue to read and reflect on the book Last Child in the Woods (and I will likely report back!). Growing up, I was certainly a child in the woods. As an adult, I am still in the woods. The other day, during this time of pondering, looking at old photos, talking with my family, traveling back in memory, I felt my Grandma showing me the tiny trees in the post-derecho winter woods. Those tiny trees growing among so many fallen granny trees really stood out vividly, ecstatically to me. Those tiny trees will grow, just like my Grandma taught me. Grandma is reminding me just how fast and how slow trees and children grow.
Were you a child in the woods? Are you still in the woods? Can you bring the children you love into the woods with you? Can you give them the freedom to play, discover and explore? Can we give ourselves and the children we love the freedom and openness of nature, while occasionally teaching them, lifting them up, so they can feel like little learning birds?
—Angie Pierce Jennings, Prairiewoods hosted groups and hospitality coordinator
