Next week is the fall equinox, and I have nothing planned. My family used to do a better job of celebrating the earth-based holidays, usually with a hike, ritual or anything else based in nature. Lately, we’ve been more focused on social events with other families, whether that be a polo match, a movie night or King Richard’s Fair.
Digging through some old blog posts, never published on this site, I was reminded of our nature journeys with a two-year-old Sofie and the things we learned from those experiences…
From October 2008:
America’s Stonehenge
We donned our hiking boots again this past weekend, this time trekking to New Hampshire for some leap peeping and a visit to America’s Stonehenge. Didn’t know we even had a Stonehenge on this side of the pond, did you? A maze of chambers, walls and ceremonial meeting places built by ancient people, America’s Stonehenge is most likely the oldest man-made construction in the United States (over 4,000 years old). And, most impressively, its 12-acre astronomical stone calendar can still be used today to determine solar and lunar calendar events.
This is where my family comes in. I have been celebrating earth holidays for nearly a decade, dating back to when we lived in Illinois and my friend Lisa hosted annual Summer Solstice parties in her wooded backyard, complete with musical instruments, dancing and a fire circle.
When we moved to Rhode Island with its dearth of fire-circle jumping friends, Mike and I honored the solstices more quietly by “unplugging” for the day. We used no electricity, no car, no phones, no clocks; instead seeking a rhythm with the rising and setting of the sun. (We did allow ourselves use of the heater and stove.) Our unplugged days let in huge and often unsettling silences. Yet we filled them with conversation, books, long walks and just plain lying around. It isn’t until you put away the clocks that you really get a sense of time.
It’s been a while since we’ve unplugged (the last time was a Winter Solstice disaster in which Mike attempted to cook a turkey by candlelight), but I find myself yearning for that peace again.
And I want to introduce Sofie to the ritual as another way of honoring our connection to the earth. It’s especially nice around the holidays when the overwhelming thoughts are, “Busy! Stress! Hurry!”
I’d love to return to America’s Stonehenge for this year’s Winter Solstice. The site is open sunrise to sunset for all the earth-based holidays. The folks there offer spirit walks and snowshoeing on 105 acres of woodland. And they’re home to eight adorable alpacas.
Zen of the Acorn
Here is my daughter (a collector, like her father) stowing acorns into her pocket. We were hiking one of the ridge trails at Rhode Island’s Norman Bird Sanctuary when Sofie first discovered acorns, exclaiming over their cute little “hats.” This meant we had to stop every few minutes along the trail so that she could examine each patch of the fallen nut. But I didn’t mind. I was thrilled just to watch my blossoming nature baby: a not-quite-two-year-old who insisted on walking the rocky, and sometimes steep, mile-long trail by herself.
Admittedly, hiking was much easier for us when Sofie was a non-moving creature we carried in the Baby Bjorn at our own pace. But now—while our trips are longer and much slower—she is teaching us that commonly ignored concept about enjoying the journey, not the destination. (With a toddler, you oftentimes never even get to the destination.)
Along the way, Sofie was very protective about her cache of acorns, but at the top of Hanging Rock, my impetuous daughter suddenly emptied her pocket, tossing the nuts into the trees below. Another lesson, perhaps, about our attachment to things?
We were hungry at the top of the trail, as I had forgotten to bring along any snacks, and, looking down at our child, we considered the acorn. Yet, even though I grew up with acorn-shedding oak trees in my yard, I had no knowledge of their potential edibility. So for safety’s sake, we opted not to. (It turns out acorns are edible.) And thus our adventure ended — our growling stomachs moved us back down the trail at a much faster pace, with Sofie pausing only once or twice to offer greetings to little bugs. It is satisfying in this instance to know that the acorn does not fall far from the tree.
What ways do you explore nature with your children?
