The strong wind whistled through the swaying branches of the tall Cottonwoods. Now the whistle grew to a dull roar. Waves blew off the lake throwing spray into our faces. The group of first graders stood there, eyes wide open, looking up at the trees and out into the lake. I tell them in the winter when the chinook winds blow you can put your hands on the trunk and can feel the tree move a tiny bit in your arms.
I always feel blessed that I am able to get up and walk each morning in dawn. I do not take it for granted. I was told today of a person who was so sick that he could not get out of a chair that last few years of his life. Today I smelled the sweet fragrance of wild plum drifting across the meadow, listened to the early morning songs of the robins and redwings and chickadees. On another day I was stopped in my tracks when a fox screamed on the ridge in the predawn darkness; I glanced up at the ridge and spied the quarter moon through the naked branches of the cottonwoods and elms. On another day I felt the bitter below zero cold, my breath froze on my face, my dogs tumbled down to try to break out the ice that had frozen between their claws.
I am blessed that I am able to feel strength in the cycles of life and seasons. In this enrichment I have the need to share what I know and feel.
First with my own kids, also with other children and their teachers and parents, who may only see nature in pictures, or on tv shows, who for whatever reason do not go outside in this great world on a regular basis.
I tell the kids that I am a naturalist because of the walks I take each day. That in nature I always see something new, that I am awed at the wonder and power of life and systems outside, that I am inspired at the varying beauty I see in my walks, in the insects and dew and birds and storms and sunrises.
I tell them stories about naturalists and grizzlies and geese. I read them short excerpts from Rachel Carson. I encourage them in their own discoveries - they show me nests, birds, bugs, tracks, the Rockies in the distance. They say to themselves how neat it is out here, that they want to stay and watch the sunset. Their teacher says that would be nice but the bus driver is waiting.
But the most lasting influence may be from standing there with me next to the lake, listening to the roar of the wind through the trees, feeling the spray of water of the lake, experiencing something wild, something of the mystery of life, feeling for a moment the awe and appreciation.