Guest Post by Dawn Lippman
Autumn is still a few weeks away, but already where I live the trees are beginning to trade the green of summer for fall’s fireworks. Some are even dropping their leaves, scattering crisp specks of yellow on the still-emerald grass. My children and I recently enjoyed our first fall-like excursion of the year. Hand-in-hand they navigated the forest near our home, expressing wonder at treasure after treasure they discovered along the wooded path. I followed, watching and listening—and wishing I could save the set of footprints they left in the crunchy leaves and spongy forest floor.
Science increasingly affirms the significance of such moments. Fetal cells multiply at a lightning-fast rate, forming neurons that organize and create the regions of the brain that control various abilities. At birth, those billions of neurons continue to fire and form a complex neural circuitry according to which cells are exercised and which ones are not. Moments spent blowing dandelion wishes, marveling at snowflakes, digging for worms: They help form lifelong pathways in our heads.
Even today, when I visit my childhood home, I feel a unique kind of contentment. It’s as if the hills and valleys are puzzle pieces that fit into perfect position on the landscape of my brain—a landscape uniquely shaped by time spent exploring those woods, catching fireflies, and admiring the stars. I hope I’m providing the same depth of memory for my kids.
Children learn by playing, and nature is where innate, playful curiosity meets cosmic opportunity to learn and grow. Faced with a steady stream of electronic entertainment and fast food and jam-packed schedules, however, many children aren’t being given regular invitations to nurture a connection with nature through leisurely, down-to-earth play. Richard Louv, author of Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder, makes a powerful case against the pervasive disregard of that connection. It’s a broken bond that starves us all of meaningful mental, spiritual and physical fruits. The solution, however, is simple. And it starts in our own backyards.
Make sure your kids (and you, for that matter!) have plenty of time for unstructured outdoor play each day: time to get their hands dirty, time to splash in puddles, time to look up at the sky and rest and wonder. Regular interaction with the outdoors nourishes a relationship that’s fundamental to healthy living. Pull out your calendar and schedule an hour—or better yet, two or three—if that helps. Take lots of time this fall to create your own melody of footprints in the leaves. It’s an impression that reaches deep—into our children, our homes, and our world.
