The creek bed was slippery as Elliott and Kate waded upstream. Ahead of them they could see several Sunfish, huddled in one spot where the clear water was a couple of feet deep. Then the blue-green fish decided that the two humans were getting too close, and they made a break for it, darting one at a time past Kate and then practically between Elliott’s legs.
“I could have caught one in my hands if I was fast enough!” Elliott claimed. He added, “But I’d probably have fallen on my butt. This spot is really slip…”
Before he could finish, his legs slipped out from under him and he really did land on his butt. The water cushioned his fall, and he sat on the algae-coated limestone, spluttering. Kate came back to help.
She extended her hand to him. “If I fall in, I swear you’re going back down too,” she teased.
Elliott managed to get up without pulling her in, and they kept wading upstream, past schools of little silver fish and a small Red-eared Slider turtle hiding in the shallows. His shorts and shirt were wet, but they would soon dry in the sun. And to have Kate take his hand and help him get back up, he thought it made falling down worth it, though he wasn’t going to say that to Kate.
It was October, but in Texas all that meant was that it was warm rather than hot. As Halloween got closer there were no golden or orange leaves, no autumn color yet although some leaves were falling just from being worn out by a long, mostly dry summer.
At a bend in the creek, the two of them waded out onto the exposed white limestone bank of the creek. Another, higher layer formed a sort of bench where they could sit in the shade, facing the water. Elliott went through his backpack, which had stayed mostly dry inside when he went in the water. He found his journal still sealed in a plastic bag, protected against just that kind of accident.
Kate looked back at him. “Are you getting your journal out? This looks like a pretty good place to do it, right?”
Elliott agreed. The teacher in their 10th grade science class had given this as an assignment: Take a notebook somewhere out in nature and write or draw about what you find. Kate liked this creek and so after they got the assignment, she asked Elliott to come along.
Each of them opened their notebook and wrote the date at the top, followed by the location of the creek and the time they started walking and wading. There were a list of prompts included with the assignment, suggesting what to include.
“Let’s see,” Kate began, “there’s weather stuff. The sky is kinda deep blue today, with a few clouds, right?”
Elliott looked at the clouds. “Yep. I think those are high clouds, a forget what you call them, but they’re sort of like a little bit of milk swirled across the sky with the tip of your spoon.”
“OK, ‘milk clouds,’ I’m sure that will win us the weather expert prize.”
“Whatever,” Elliott responded. “Remember she said it doesn’t have to be technical. She said just describe, put what you experience into words.”
“’Elliott stinks like creek water.’ There, I’ve put my experience into words.”
Both of them were quiet for a minute. Then Kate said, “OK, sorry, I’ve written about blue sky and swirly clouds. Did you bring a thermometer?”
“No, but I’m going to check the nearby weather.” Elliott pulled out his phone. “So it’s 78 degrees nearby. Feels warmer when you’re out in the sun, huh?” Then he pulled a section of his T-shirt up and sniffed it.
“That does not stink.”
Each of them wrote in his or her journal for a while. And then Elliott asked, “Remember that big white wading bird we saw back there? Do you know what it was?”
“Yeah, a Great Egret. I think I remember that they eat stuff that they can spear in shallow water, like fish or frogs. They’re so pretty when they fly.”
Elliott added, “I guess I can say something about the fish even though I don’t know what they are.”
“Ms. Martin said that was fine, that it was more important to put into words what you noticed – just what it looked like or sounded like. What did she say? ‘It helps you remember it and really notice and learn about it.’ So you could say they were silvery little shooting stars that flashed in the water, and that would be OK,” Kate commented.
Elliott smiled. “I remember – actually she’d really like that ‘shooting star’ bit, because she said it should capture how it came across to you, how you felt about it.”
They kept writing, including a little about the creek itself and the sparkling reflections of the sun when the shallow water ran over the rocks. There was the sound that water made when it ran fast and shallow, and an occasional bird call. They included the feel of the water, a cool swirl around their ankles and a slight push against their legs as they waded upstream (and Elliott could mention how hard they worked to keep their balance and that cool, sudden immersion when he fell in).
“I started to quit a few minutes ago,” Kate said, “but when you stop and think about it, there is so much to notice. I guess that was the point, huh, to get us to pay attention to all this.”
“Yeah,” Elliott answered, “How long do we have to keep going? I know she said there was no specific number of lines or words, but I keep thinking of stuff. If we weren’t doing this nature journal, I think I wouldn’t have noticed a lot of it.”
“Are you drawing anything?” Kate asked. “She said that would be good, too. Maybe I’ll draw your swirly clouds.”
“There’s that fossil snail or whatever that I saw back there. Maybe I can find another.” Elliott wandered around, looking at the exposed limestone, until he saw the exposed coil of a ribbed spiral shell, a limestone fossil embedded in the creek bed. He carefully worked it free and brought it back to where they were sitting.
“I see at least a piece of one of those every time I’m here,” Kate said. “All this used to be a sea bed, in prehistoric times, and these were kinda like a squid living in a snail shell, is what I heard.”
As Elliott began drawing, Kate continued, “We’re supposed to say if we’re grateful, or maybe write something like if we were talking to the place, telling it what we think. Let’s see … I’m grateful that you fell in.”
“Hey, we gotta wade back out of here, so don’t be so sure you won’t do the slip and slide and go for a swim.” At this point Elliott was hoping for it; paybacks were gonna be fun.
“Maybe this,” Kate went on, “’I’m glad we can visit this place, that it has so much cool stuff. It has had amazing animals since prehistoric times, and it’s still here. I hope people can wade this creek in a hundred years.’”
“I like that,” Elliott said. “Do you want to try this again, even after the assignment is done? I usually keep on the move, and writing and drawing kind of slows me down. But maybe it would be fun to try again.”
“It slowed you down but it made you think about stuff you would have walked right past,” Kate replied. “So we could go to that preserve with the open grasslands and woods and maybe if we wrote in the journal, we would notice more things and think about them in new ways.”
“OK, it’s a deal,” Elliott said. “We can give it a try.”
And on the way back … neither of them fell in the water. Elliott was a little disappointed.
(Recommending nature journaling might sound a little like a school assignment – which wouldn’t exactly get everyone rushing out to pick up a notebook and pen. So what is a good way to introduce it?
I decided that maybe a story would be a good approach, and in this story it literally is a school assignment. But it turns out well, and I’d like to think Kate’s and Elliott’s interest in trying some more journaling might also work out well. What I had in mind about the teacher’s prompts and suggestions to deepen their journaling is shown below – I took it along to the preserve and gave it a try. You could write something shorter; like Elliott said, there’s no prescribed number of words.)
The morning of July 25 was very mild compared to the afternoon’s heat. It was a great morning for a group of about 14 kids and several adults to take a walk in the wildscape of a local Montessori school. I hoped that these mostly fourth through sixth-graders were ready to playfully explore the nature of their wildscape, and they were more than ready.
Like a gateway – to Terabithia?
They knew the place better than Marylee and me. We were nominally in charge of leading the group and teaching about nature, but these kids would have been happy to have led the get-acquainted walk. They, or their predecessors at the school, had named the places within it: the Dark Forest, the Ranger Circle, Maria’s Meadow, and other spots within this little fragment of Eastern Cross Timbers woodland and prairie.
It’s such good news that the kids had named it and made it their own, that their school had this delightful patch of wildness and let each new group of kids belong in it and get to know it. So our role would be to help them get more deeply familiar with it, more acquainted with the lives that live there.
An American Bumblebee, feeding from a Partridge Pea
More acquainted with the bumblebees, for example. When everyone gathered in a circle around the old stump and we talked about likes and fears in nature, the dislikes were primarily spiders, snakes, and bees (which closely mirrors the things in nature that most nature fears are focused on). So when the group came to some flowering Partridge Pea that a bumblebee was feeding on, we didn’t pull back. We also, of course, did not swat at or otherwise make the bee feel that it was under attack. Any doubters might have seen that the bumblebee ignored us, even though I was pretty close.
This is an adult funnel-weaving spider, seen at Sheri Capehart Nature Preserve. They are all just as shy as the little one we found on our walk, and if one were to bite us, the bite is not medically significant.
Speaking of spiders, we came upon a small one in the low branches of a bush, within her web. One of the kids suggested that it was probably a wolf spider, and I agreed that the overall look was kind of like one of those. But, I commented, wolf spiders don’t trap prey with webs, they just chase down what they eat. This one’s body and web made me think of a young funnel-weaving spider, and just as I pointed toward where I thought her funnel was, she quickly scuttled down the hole made by her web.
We found and heard a lot that everyone could appreciate without overcoming a fear or aversion that they had been carrying. Bird song – especially from Northern Cardinals – rang out through the woods, and plenty of plants were still flowering. We found a butterfly and one of the boys looked for the extension of the hindwing that would make it some kind of swallowtail. (I noted to myself, “they know about swallowtails, how wonderful!”) It was a Gulf Fritillary, and when I asked if butterflies like this benefit us in some way, the kids quickly answered, “they’re pollinators!”
Did I mention that it was a real treat to be with these kids?
Flowers of Tievine, a type of Morning Glory, seen in the prairie patch
As we walked down the trail, I saw a telltale squiggle in the short grass at my feet. It was familiar enough that I dropped down immediately and tried to gently pin this little lizard so that we could have a look and then release him or her. It was a small Little Brown Skink. They already live up to the name – they are little and they are a coppery, two-tone brown, and this was a young one. I had it pinned briefly but could not get to where I could pick it up without risking breaking off the tail. And so it got away.
And that raises an interesting question: how much interference with nature is acceptable in a discovery walk such as this? It was important to me not to accidentally make the lizard lose its tail, but is it OK to catch wildlife? There is a kind of hierarchy of permissibility regarding what you can catch and handle. It runs up and down the phylogenetic ladder. We wouldn’t catch mammals, or birds like those Northern Cardinals. But starting with reptiles and amphibians and continuing through fish and then insects, it seems alright to most people. Catching frogs and bugs seems normal. And maybe that’s because many of them are harder to get a good look at unless we catch them. Frogs hop away, and so do grasshoppers. Also, briefly capturing them or scooping them up in a net can be pretty easy much of the time.
I wanted the kids to see the lizard I was talking about, but being captured is stressful. I make the assumption that briefly capturing such an animal for the sake of teaching, and then immediately releasing it unharmed, is completely fine. We want to teach kids compassion and respect for the lives they find out here (and anywhere), and so I’m open to revisiting and re-thinking this question.
The Prairie
In a world in which most kids can recognize far more fast food logos than wildlife or plants, it was wonderful to be with these kids, who said at the end that they want to do more of it. It looks like Marylee and I will lead walks here about every four to eight weeks in the coming school year. We will get to know the wildscape through the seasons, and I look forward to all the discoveries we will make.
I enjoy writing to you, especially to kids who love nature or are curious about it. I’ve been writing these “Letters to Nature Kids” or “Letters to Nature Folks” for over three years. Sometimes I describe a particular walk or a kind of animal or plant I found, and always there’s some connection to something in nature.
As I sit in my back yard, there are birds in nearby trees, and their songs are complex and beautiful together. Repeated notes, rising and falling whistles and whirring trills. They seem to be in the Sweetgum and Pine trees here, as the branches gently sway in the morning sun.
Merlin, the bird identification app, identified them as a Northern Cardinal and a Bewick’s and a Carolina Wren. Meanwhile somewhere there is a Carolina Chickadee and a Blue Jay. After a short time, the nearby birds have gone quiet. Was it just a brief stopover? Or have they finished saying what they had to say? What were they communicating, and to whom? Inviting someone in, or maybe telling someone to stay away?
A Wren at nearby Sheri Capehart Nature Preserve
We tend to think that birds sing from pure joy at being alive on a quiet sunny morning like this. People who study birds say that they’re mostly inviting a potential mate in or claiming some spot as theirs and telling others to stay away. But that doesn’t mean there’s no joy in it. Perhaps there’s a gratitude for being alive that feeds the impulse to find mates and claim their place in the woods and fields.
There’s also joy in my sharing what I find and what the Earth teaches me when I’m in wild places (and places that are just a little bit wild). If I can share that with you and encourage you to go see for yourself, I imagine that there would be smiles on both of our faces. And that’s the reason for these letters.
Two kids in particular have given lots of happiness and have played a part in these letters: Eli and Lilly. My granddaughter is too young to read letters, but maybe she will do so someday. She might read this letter about our visit to the Fort Worth Nature Center on November 5, 2024:
On a beautiful early November day, Lilly and I went to see bison and butterflies. When we climbed the ramp up onto the bison viewing deck, she noticed some bison that were eating grass and others that looked like they were napping. We had a snack in the shade of the oak trees up on that platform while the bison snacked on grasses below.
American Bison at Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge
Is it “bison,” or “buffalo”? What some people call a buffalo in North America is really the American Bison. But if you call them buffalo, everyone will probably understand you. If you are interested, I wrote about bison and that viewing deck Lilly and I were standing on for Green Source DFW.
When we were back on the ground, Lilly loved seeing caterpillars making their way across the ground, “going home,” she figured. We watched small butterflies feeding on yellow wildflowers, and she gently touched one of them. Her delight in finding these small things made me feel some of the same delight.
Lilly, on the bison deck
She and I have gone on a number of these “adventure walks,” starting shortly after her second birthday. Now, with her fourth birthday coming up, we took this walk at Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge (FWNCR). She has climbed onto boulders – small ones – at Sheri Capehart Nature Preserve and Oliver Nature Park and admired a harmless DeKay’s Brown Snake at FWNCR. She is fearless, curious, and gentle, three wonderful things to be.
Being together and sharing experiences of joy and discovery – those times are very important. You may have noticed that happiness grows even bigger when it is shared. What are some things that bring you joy? Maybe they are beautiful places, music, things that grab your attention, or put you at peace. Do you share those things with people that you love?
One of the butterflies that we saw
You and I both know that not everyone likes the same things, so we might offer to share something and the other person is not interested. That’s OK, you may find other things that you both like. But if you love nature, I hope you will find someone who is eager to go on an adventure walk with you.
In April of 2020 when he was six, I took Elijah (who is more family than friend) to my favorite creek. We waded in the clear water and noticed mosquitofish and shiners. The mosquitofish swam in little groups at the surface of the water, and shiners took off with a flash of silver scales. In later walks we have found turtles, cricket frogs, and many wonderful things (see the Letters to Nature Kids in January of 2022).
Lilly at the marsh boardwalk
After seeing the bison, Lilly and I went to the marsh boardwalk. A marsh is a place with fairly shallow water and plants that grow out of that water. This one is a lotus marsh, with many big round lotus leaves. It’s getting toward late autumn, and so lots of the leaves are turning brown.
That was a really wonderful walk. And at other times, I lead walks at Sheri Capehart Nature Preserve. Almost everyone on those walks is an adult and most are people I have just met, but sharing nature still brings joy. I suppose each one is an “adventure walk,” although adults don’t give them that name. But each of them is a kind of adventure, because we never know what we will see. And if we are lucky, we can see what we find as if it is a new discovery – even if it is a dragonfly we know well or a Carolina Chickadee we have heard many times before.
I hope you can go on a walk or two, somewhere a little bit wild. Find someone you can share some of those walks with!
I published this post at Rainlilies.substack.com but wanted to make sure you could see it here.
I want to lead one or more groups for older children, walking through our woods and prairies, finding wonder, and feeling at home among trees and grasses. I have taken parents and children on walks like that, and I often lead groups of adults out into one or two of our nearby nature preserves. What is the attraction, for me and more importantly for the kids, in doing such a thing? Is there some benefit other than learning a couple of facts? And will kids want to go along on such walks?
Some of you will have read one or more of Richard Louv’s books (Last Child in the Woods and The Nature Principle are the ones I’m familiar with). If so, these questions and their possible answers are not new to you. Louv came up with the phrase “nature deficit disorder,” not as an actual diagnosis but as a way of talking about how children used to spend more time in nature and would benefit from doing that again now. I agree wholeheartedly.
I’ll offer myself as an example, and maybe I’m representative of how a lot of kids might benefit. In the 1960s, on most days during summer break I was at the creek or at a museum in Fort Worth. My parents took me to the museum for their “Natural History Club” because I had developed an interest in snakes. From there I was introduced to the creek and its harmless water snakes, ribbon snakes, turtles, frogs, bluegill sunfish … and the list could go on. I got acquainted with armadillos, spotted skunks, crayfish, and copperheads, with friendly guidance (and hands-off supervision with those copperheads) from John Preston and then Rick Pratt at the museum.
At the creek
And so I was outside in nature somewhere quite a bit, either on field trips with the museum or with friends in some nearby place. After a time, I felt most at home in the prairies, woods, and wetlands of North Texas. My home with my family was fine; I was not escaping from anything. It’s just that being outside in nature was familiar and felt safe and free with something new and fascinating around each bend in the trail. I knew how to wade or swim, where was safe to climb up a hillside and not fall, and how to investigate a hollow log or rock ledge without getting bitten or stung.
In other words, I became physically competent in those places, developed problem-solving and creative skills, experienced wonder, and had a few homes away from home that I could always count on, regardless of the ups and downs of school and society. Do those things seem important? They meant the world to me.
Some people would say that the world has changed so much that those experiences are now unworkable and maybe dangerous. And it is true that in the last fifty years, kids’ freedom to explore neighborhoods and parks on their own has been restricted by loving parents guarding against malignant strangers, traffic, and any number of hazards. Richard Louv makes the case, with logic and statistics, that we have overreacted. Others agree with him, but even if we wanted to return to the way it used to be, we’re not sure how much to ease up and still be responsible parents.
And so I would like to see kids have some supervised time in nature in which exploration and discovery can take place in a small group. It would not be freewheeling like some of my days at the creek, but more like the museum outings in which an adult could not only offer some guardrails but also help interpret and explain what we were finding among the trees, grasses, and ponds.
Texas spiny lizard on an oak tree
A growing number of studies have explored how time in nature benefits our bodies and minds. Many of them document lowered blood pressure and other cardiovascular benefits. Some show decreases in the stress hormone cortisol, and some document boosts to the immune system. Another gift from nature concerns how our attention systems can be restored. One group of researchers emphasizes how our executive attention, keeping us on task and dealing with multitasking, can become exhausted in today’s world. The kinds of experiences we have in nature turn out to be very good at letting that part of our attention system recover.
Further benefits have been documented in mood and stress. After walks in nature, people often experience improved mood and less ruminative thoughts (the angry, guilty, or shame-based thoughts that can get stuck in an endless loop). Anxiety may be diminished.
Such benefits are needed by a lot of our kids. A 2023 survey of kids in grades 9-12 showed 39.7% of those children with persistent sadness and hopelessness, and 20.4% had seriously considered suicide (this was a CDC study you can find here). That is, on average, one in five kids in those grades at some point thinking in a serious way about killing themselves. Another study found that between 2016 and 2020, there was an increase in anxiety and depression among kids up to age 17, as well as decreases in exercise and in the emotional well-being of parents. Those unfortunate trends with the children were occurring before the Covid pandemic began (this was in a JAMA Pediatrics study you can see here).
The benefits of nature are there for anyone, and may be especially helpful for those who struggle with stress, anxiety, or a number of other issues. I’m not suggesting it is a cure-all, and it’s no substitute for therapy when the issues are severe, but it can make a difference.
The walks I would like to lead for older kids, just like the other walks I currently lead, would not be offered as therapy. Their purpose would be to make a healthy life richer and fuller, and to make health challenges less likely.
Would kids want to go on such walks? To some extent it depends on kids’ comfort level when out in some place that is a little bit wild, and whether the walk includes fascination and active discovery. A lot would depend on children’s interests, preferences, and temperament. I’ll explore that question below.
Is Nature Boring?
After writing about my interest in taking older kids on nature walks, I said I wanted to follow up on was whether kids (or adults) would stay engaged and interested, or might they become bored. How do people maintain their interest and stay “present” to what nature offers? Let’s start by considering what nature does give to anyone who notices.
Every place in nature offers multiple levels of beauty and fascination, whether in the delicate, concentric rings of a shelf fungus, the color and structure of flowers, the call of a bird, or the flowing, muscular movement of a snake moving among rocks and fallen branches. Being fully present means noticing as much as we can and not being distracted by external things that can wait. When we bring knowledge and understanding to what we are experiencing, we may know that the fungus is helping return wood to the soil and that the color and shape of flowers is to attract pollinators like bees, wasps, and flies. One thing connects to another and another, and there is so much to imagine and think about.
Equally important, we can wonder about things that we don’t yet know. How can the snake coordinate movements to push forward and not just thrash around? Can all those pollinating insects see the flower’s color (and maybe some of the light spectrum that we cannot see, like ultraviolet)? Later, we look for answers that will add to our understanding.
Our adaptable brain
Does spending time in nature sound like a good idea except that it would be hard to stay focused and not get bored? If so, you (or your kids) would not be alone. We are a society of multitaskers and screen-watchers. We live at a time when working two jobs (just two?) may be necessary and our phones are with us everywhere we go. And our brain adapts to our habits and activities. If we live a life of constant input and multitasking, that builds a brain that expects it and even wants it.
Imagine all those neurons firing in response to rapidly shifting stimuli and a flood of information. And here’s an insight from neurology and psychology: “Neurons that fire together, wire together.” The parts of the brain that get lots of use become stronger, while areas that are not used a great deal have fewer connections. If our brain is wired for high stimulation, then in quieter times we may feel bored and restless, as if there’s not enough going on.
If you would like to be able to slow down when you are in the woods or at the pond, there is some good news – the brain can change in the other direction, too. The brain has the ability, called “brain plasticity,” to rewire itself in response to patterns of stimulation and activity. There are limits to this plasticity, but to some degree, our restlessness might begin to decrease if we practice being still and noticing things while in nature. A good strategy is to start small and easy, and find ways to make it enjoyable to notice things. Sometimes games like nature-based scavenger hunts may give kids or adults a structure for focusing on nature.
Attention
To talk about boredom we need to talk about what seems like its opposite – paying attention. When we notice something, choosing that thing to look at or listen to and letting everything else become background, we are paying attention to it. We may shift our attention often or we might stick with it for a while if we have a long enough attention span. There is some reason to think our attention spans are becoming shorter. I wonder if that is related to the fast-paced, multitasking lives I referred to above.
We can think of paying attention as a skill which develops during childhood. For example, by kindergarten age, most children can sit through fifteen minutes of circle time or listen to a couple of picture books, and by grades 4 or 5, they can usually spend between 30 and 60 minutes in homework (as reported in Dawson & Guare’s Smart but Scattered, 2009, Guilford). It is up to us to meet the child where s/he is for age and ability, and to encourage the child in a positive way.
Does it take effort to pay attention? Yes. Researchers describe two types of attention – one that requires effort to direct our attention and shut out distractions, sometimes called “executive attention,” and another that seems to respond pretty effortlessly to some things that are inherently interesting or attractive. Stephen Kaplan and his colleagues say that our executive or directed attention becomes exhausted and needs opportunities for recovery. Their research says that nature can play a role in this. What we experience among trees, water, sunsets, and such things offer what Kaplan calls “soft fascination.” That uses a kind of attention that is not particularly effortful and does not trigger the executive attention system to concentrate on something to the exclusion of other things.
Boredom
“Bored” can mean different things at different times. Sometimes “I’m bored” is what we say when we would like things to move faster in a more interesting way. At other times “bored” is probably about our preference for something different – “what’s going on is not what I wanted.” Boredom is a signal that we are not finding what is in front of us to be meaningful, and so we need to either change our surroundings or else see if we can discover meaning in our surroundings.
Sometimes a feeling of boredom is about brain chemistry. When we see something we like, or hear something interesting on television, or successfully respond to a challenge, our brain gets a little bit of dopamine, which feels good. If nothing is happening, maybe nothing is stimulating the release of this “feel good” neurotransmitter. Since dopamine is linked to pleasure and reward, when it gets low we may feel like nothing is fun, things seem gray and blah. At its worst, when we are stuck in boredom our mood may become depressed or irritable, we become impatient, and we might also feel slowed and drained of energy.
Is there anything at all good in being bored? Maybe. If we can respond to boredom by finding something meaningful and useful in our situation, we become better at coping with boredom. Lacking something to do may be a helpful trigger for us to learn to be flexible and creative. And that would suggest that we should not always rescue children from boredom. Maybe we can support them in finding other ways to respond to the surroundings that currently seem boring.
Temperament
Each person is a little different when it comes to their need for stimulation and activity. Some are more restless and become bored more easily than others. These qualities are, to one extent or another, part of who we are over the years. One person may be more adaptable while someone else is more rigid. We all know people who are outgoing and comfortable with some risk, just as we know people who are more inhibited and cautious. These things are part of our temperament. And so it’s not surprising that some people find it easier to sit quietly and take in their surroundings, while others seem to need shifting, high-energy stimulation or else they become bored.
Even these relatively stable traits can shift when the person is motivated and regularly engages in practices that can bring about change. A person who is ordinarily restless can become more comfortably still and quiet, at least to some extent. To work on this, it is best to start by choosing easier and shorter activities with lots of points of interest. If a parent tries to enforce more challenging activities as a required lesson, hoping the child will somehow shift from uncomfortable compliance to joyful engagement, they are likely to be disappointed. We have to start by meeting them where they are.
Emotions and trauma
A history of trauma, anxiety or depression sometimes makes it harder to be quiet and contemplative in nature. Being in a new place and simply taking in the experience might feel unsafe, like waiting for something to happen. Sometimes people feel that constant distractions help shut out troubling thoughts, and if they get quiet it opens the door to let all those worries and memories in. Such discomfort can also change with practice and time, but each person has to decide what their tolerance is and what support they need in order to venture into what might seem like unsafe territory.
In situations such as those, there is a need to consider whether psychotherapy can help. In my earlier post I mentioned that time in nature is very often helpful for depression and anxiety, but not necessarily a substitute for therapy. A person for whom trauma, depression, or anxiety are issues could think about how to create enough safety for nature to be the comfortable and secure refuge that it can be. Maybe it’s taking someone along for quiet companionship, or maybe it’s choosing the right spot, weather, and time of day.
The bottom line
Every person has a different level of comfort, interest, and motivation to do things that are quiet and involve paying attention. The capacity to pay attention (vs. experience boredom) changes with age and development, and it also varies according to the person’s inborn temperament. These things can change to one degree or another, especially if the person is motivated and they experience some success and enjoyment when they work on it.
Time spent in nature can help recharge our attentional abilities as well as lower stress, anxiety, and depression. However, it is important to respect a person’s interests and capabilities. I never want to take any child or adult on a walk if they don’t want to go or the demands of the walk will be higher than their ability to benefit from it.
I would like very much to hear your thoughts about this. Maybe you’re a parent or relative, or maybe you’re a kid with a point of view about what you like or do not like about nature. You can reply to this post and tell us what you think!
I will be focusing more time on inviting others to some semi-wild place and experiencing it mindfully, doing some nature journaling, and learning a little about the plants and animals that live there. I’ve led nature walks before (with the LBJ Grasslands Project, for example), but these outings will more explicitly focus on mindfulness and nature journaling. If you are reading this in the North Texas area and would like to join me, please use the Contact page to send me an inquiry. At this point there is no fee, but I’ll check the status of the “tip jar” at this website in case anyone would like to contribute! Some of these outings may be more for adults, but some will be for families with kids at least ten years old or older.
Getting children out to experience nature mindfully involves their being less “somewhere else” and more “right here, now.” Somewhere else is thinking about something that happened this morning or hoping you can do something tonight, wishing your friend was here with you, and imagining how Batman could knock that tree down. Being right here is noticing the shapes of clouds, feeling how the ground feels under your feet, listening to a frog call, and recognizing prickly pear cactus and walking around rather than through it. Mindfulness involves paying attention to the present moment, without judging it as good or bad and without wishing it was different.
Some kids may like the idea of taking a walk in which we will see everything more clearly, hear more things, notice smells, and touch a few things to see how they feel. I might explain to them that we will “turn down the background noise” of our thinking and talking while on the walk, so that we can experience the walk more fully. I will mention that this is not always easy for any of us. Our brain wants to turn the volume back up, and that’s normal, it’s what brains do. So when we notice that we’re thinking about something else, we just let the thought go, let it float away, and bring our attention back to what is happening now. We may have to do that over and over, and that’s OK.
Some kids may be used to blasting through a nature walk while talking to friends. If a nature walk seems unfamiliar or boring, they may be escaping by thinking of other things and going through the walk on autopilot. The job of a teacher or parent is to invite them in and make it seem worth a try. One way to do that is with nature games that provide a little structure for paying attention to the things around them. Or it might add interest to offer some natural history information (“That bird over there is getting ready to fly to South America!” “That rock is the silt and seashells from a beach where dinosaurs walked”). We may want to alternate periods of quiet attention with times when kids talk with each other and with us.
A nature journal is your own personal story, in words and pictures, of places you visited and things you experienced. You write a little and maybe draw a few pictures in a blank book or notebook – nothing fancy is needed. The idea is to stop and think about what you’re experiencing and preserve a little bit of it on paper. For some people, an entry might be mostly contain information about the place, the weather that day, and seeing a kingfisher fly over the pond. Someone else might write a poem about sun reflected on the water and the flight of that kingfisher, or maybe they would just draw the bird with a few notes about seeing it. There’s more than one way to keep a nature journal.
The only way I know to do this with kids is to have a responsible adult (family member or family friend) who brings the child and stays with us. It really cannot be a drop-off, but we would be happy for the adults to join in the activities. The ideal group, with kids or adults, is small – perhaps five or six. A small group just seems quieter, more focused, and better able to get to know each other, and so I will limit the group size.
What is my background for doing this? I have been licensed as a Psychological Associate for over 38 years and have led walks in nature for adults and kids. I’ve written two books about reptiles and amphibians and, most recently, a book about mindfulness in nature.
Today, Jessica Smith and I had the privilege of talking with twelve people who came to the nature journaling workshop. Jessica and I shared what we knew and participants asked great questions and then headed out to see what they could draw or write about.
It was a perfect day to work on nature journaling – some midday sun and warm temperatures
We talked about the connection between nature journaling and mindfulness. I think we all agreed that it helps to be unhurried and pay attention so that the experience can really be absorbed. Our experiences in nature are complex and they involve all the senses, and if we don’t give ourselves time to become aware of all of it, we’ll probably miss a lot.
Another topic was how our experience can be encoded into memory when we really pay attention, think about it, interact with it, or draw and write about it. Otherwise our time in nature may be remembered vaguely, if at all.
The meetings and discussion happened at the fishing pond, where a belted kingfisher had just visited and turtles basked
I recalled how I was taught to record biological field notes years ago. When some noteworthy specimen was found, what was the date, time, county and local landmarks? The identity of the specimen, size and gender would be recorded. There was no place for what it reminded me of or what emotions the experience might spark. Such field notes, or our entries in iNaturalist, are very valuable. But a nature journal is a personal record, and subjective impressions are welcome. Your nature journal tells the story of your time in a particular place. It need not be a series of disembodied facts, as if pretending that you were not even present. It’s your story, and you have a place in it.
Jessica talked about the art you can include in a nature journal, how it emphasizes what you are drawn to and how the time you spend drawing pulls you into your subject and connects you more strongly with it. She also commented and answered questions about practical matters. For her, much of what you do in the field can be done with a pencil. Take materials that are practical to use, or else you may not get them out and use them. She talked about a strip of cloth with individual places for pens and colored pencils that can be rolled up when not in use.
Jessica and I both emphasized that journaling should be a flexible thing, and each person’s way of responding to their experience and recording it in a journal is meaningful, regardless of how it is done.
JessicaSmith
After some time to walk and sit, write and draw, people came back with lots of wonderful results. One person said he typically walks without stopping, and so this time he sat and drew the dried stems, leaves, and flower heads of a plant in front of him, becoming absorbed in details and enjoying things he ordinarily would never have experienced. Another person said she approached today’s journaling in a poetic way, and read a beautiful entry about a sort of conversation with nature about the coming renewal of life in spring.
We were so happy to hear these things, and grateful for everyone’s time and attention. When we asked, it seemed that the group would like to do this again, so watch for another session on nature journaling at the preserve. Newcomers will be as welcome as the returning participants will be.
Our Lives In Nature 