Green Livin Where the Wild Things Are

Green Livin Why Children Still Need Nature

I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.

~Henry David Thoreau

Green livin The creek was child territory, A communal green space.

As a child, I had a creek in my backyard. I lived at the creek. The minute perfection of a baby crawdad held in my palm elicited one of my earliest moments of wonder. My creek was an ever-changing constant. It could dry to a mere trickle in a dry summer or burst from its bank after a heavy spring rain with a current that begged attempts at rafting. It was a refuge, my chief source of entertainment, a place to play with like-minded adventurous friends, and a great source of snakes.





The creek was what anthropologists call a “magic circle of play”. A place both real and imagined; it was a world away from adults. Adults were rarely needed or wanted—unless we made an exceptionally interesting find. The imagined danger was delicious.

With surprising wisdom, the adults of my childhood left children to their own devices. They knew that children need the space, solitude and most importantly, unrushed time in nature. I knew neighbors were nearby if true need arose. In the many years of creek play, Luckily for me, my neighbors were familiar with children and childhood. The creek was child territory. A communal green space. At twilight, children crouched and flitted along its banks like moths. The creek was one of the first places I sought comfort in.

When my own sons were small, I looked forward to sharing the creek world with them and they were also thrilled with the creek’s offerings. We soon discovered, however, that the climate had changed. The fish and animals were thriving, but the banks had been groomed and planted up to the water’s edge. New neighbors worried about damage children might cause to the plantings and to themselves. One expressed fear that an injury in the creek might result in a lawsuit. The sidewalk that had connected the creek to several subdivisions was claimed as private property and made forbidden to the public. These actions speak not only to Americans’ growing litigiousness, but also of the pervasive paranoia, creeping isolationism, and culture of fear that is killing American neighborhoods and keeping our children indoors. Rather than agrue with neighbors, we departed the creek and mourned the loss.

Children have always been drawn to wild, natural spaces. Toddlers allowed to explore will seek out mud under a bush or explore the most unkempt area of a backyard. Children come equipped with a natural curiosity toward the wild. The author Valerie Andrews says in her book, A Passion for this Earth, “As a child, one has that magical capacity to move among the many eras of the earth; to see the land as an animal does; to experience the sky from the perspective of a flower or a bee; to feel the earth quiver and breathe beneath us; to know a hundred different smells of mud and listen unselfconsciously to the soughing of the trees.” In much of America, however, children have disappeared from the landscape.





Richard Louv in his book, Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder, writes that a lack of exposure to nature leads to not only a decrease in a child’s sense of wonder, but also an actual loss of senses. Nature is restorative. A recent study from the University of Illinois shows what parents have long known anecdotally: that children suffering from ADHD who are exposed to green spaces show marked improvement. Nature therapy is becoming a popular recommendation among child psychologists. Yet fewer and fewer American children are playing outdoors.




I hope that we can reawaken within ourselves and in our children the love of green places. I hope we can remember that aesthetics should not take precedence over sharing the natural world with children. We need to reclaim the creeks and other magic circles for our children. If we fail in reconnecting with nature, We will have yet another generation of children who collectively echo the fourth grader in Louv’s book who announced, “I like to play indoors better ‘cause that’s where all the electrical outlets are”; a message truly worthy of our fear.