Over the past year I have been trying to gather and write stories from my childhood. I found that the more I remembered, the more I realized that most of my significant memories are of being outside. I’m so grateful to have grown up in a time when play was mostly unsupervised. It was unhurried time. There was plenty of time to explore at the creek or in the woods or to swing on the swingset.
I wrote last week (here) about my grandson falling into the creek. Let me say a little more about that. Three of my grandchildren were walking with me down to the neighborhood park that has a stream flowing through it (Bear Branch Stream which feeds into larger tributaries of the Potomac River). It’s a short walk from my house, but I always feel transported to another time when we reach the park.
It had rained a lot the day before and the ground was muddy, but the sun was out so we went. Maggie asked if she and Johnny could run across the bridge. I knew the stroller wouldn’t go well in the mud, so I said they could go. I stayed with Molly at the swings. It made me so happy to watch them tear off across the bridge and down the path on the other side of the creek. It’s a good path that I know well. I could see Maggie’s long hair flowing behind her as she ran through the trees. Her pink coat made it easy to see where they were.
Molly is at the age where she would be happy to be pushed in a swing for hours. I pushed and pushed. I had my back turned away from the creek for just a few moments. Then I heard, “Grandmaaaaaaa! Johnny’s fell in the creek!” As they ran back from the woods, Johnny had taken a wide turn and slipped off the footbridge. By the time I saw them, he had climbed up the bank and looked afraid that he might be in trouble. He stood still and said nothing. I laughed and assured him he was fine. It was just an “Oops!” I was actually happy for him to have the experience of freedom, even freedom to fall with no harm done.
I guess that’s my wish for all children–to be able to play outside, to experience the natural world, to fall and get up, to get wet sometimes and not be afraid. To look up and notice the bare branches against a winter sky. To smell pine and feel rejuvenated. To hear the Carolina Wren’s sweet song and the chirp of a cardinal. Perhaps then, they will believe that the world is more good than bad.
pelicansandprose 
Yes, such a gift to be allowed “to fall and get up, to get wet sometimes and not be afraid.”
And I agree about memories — most of my favorite ones from childhood are also outdoor adventures!
If I had to write a book, so much of it would be outside. We camped a lot all the way through my senior year, and so much of what I remember is going and doing stuff. Falling in the creek, catching fish, canoeing, hiking, biking, and so on.
I’m glad that your grandkids are getting those experiences with you because, as I sit inside, I miss that part of my life.
Oh, Marilyn, I love reading more details about the fall into the creek. Yes, yes, yes to all that you said in that last paragraph. It’s so important what you said: “Perhaps then, they will believe that the world is more good than bad.” I hope our children and grandchildren can have those freedoms.
I am keeping the image of your granddaughter ‘tearing’ through the woods in her pink coat, hair flying behind. And I agree, it’s a wise grandma who laughs at a little mud and wet, and frees a child for the next adventure.