The Forest of So Many Things

When I was young we played in the woods behind our house.  I have no idea how big the forest was, but to us it stretched infinitely in all directions; the world beyond, dissolving into a distant dream.  Real life was in the woods.  I remember a part of the forest that we named "twin tunnels" where two run-off pipes emptied into the stream.  It was a challenge to cross there, which is why we liked it.   It was ours because we named it; not in the sense that we owned it, just that we belonged there. Separate from the world of grown-ups, it was as though we had stepped through a looking glass or wardrobe.

Traditions have already started among the children in the Meadow room as we go to, linger in, and return from the outdoor classroom.  How marvelous that there is a wall at the entrance, something to keep the ordered world separate from the wild.  As soon as we round the corner of the wall, we are free.  

So many things make you belong to a place.  In the forest the stick-dens are the backdrop for pretend play, places of nurturing and safety as well as jails and forts.  They are for coming together with a few friends and examining the world "out there".  

Already there are familiar paths of travel - up this hill and down that one, around that fallen tree and over the superfluous little plank bridge that crosses a path where water might flow after a rain.  Round and round they run.  Round and round committing the paths to memory for all time, not so much a visual memory, but the feel; the body sensations of going up, over, down, around; each one different and thrilling.  I remember flying, feet barely touching the ground.

So many experiences make you belong to a place.  The children have begun to make tools and weapons from sticks, and leaves, and string, and wire.  I tied a tiny bell on one of the dens and instantly the children wanted to decorate the others.  With Anna's help, they have made brooms for cleaning shoes, rakes for leaves, magic wands, bows with arrows, throwing stars, and hooks for hanging their jackets from the trees.  We planted our bulbs for spring, and we even found a twisted wood mask on Halloween!

So many rituals make us belong to each other.  When our time is up and we are making our way back to the wall and around, traditions have begun that focus on our connection to each other.  They mark our passage back from the wild.   The first children to go around the wall wait on the upper side and reach out to hold hands or high-five those passing by, bridging our two worlds.  

And as we leave the forest behind, the children place their hands on the shoulders of the child in front of them to form trains; long, zig-zagging trains that will eventually stumble and collapse into pools of laughter on the ground.

(special thanks to Kelly for taking amazing photographs)