Field Journal
"This is where I write the things I do not want to forget. The questions the kids asked. The walks that did not go as planned. The small wonders we almost missed."
I started this journal because I needed a place to hold the ordinary magic of our family walks. The muddy boots. The leaf pressed too late. The afternoon someone finally spotted the cardinal. These entries are not polished lessons. They are the honest notes from one family learning to pay attention, one season after another.
Two kinds of pages sit side by side here. An entry is what happened on a given day. A field note answers a reason families never start.
Everything, newest first
What I am actually aiming for as a mother.
My mom asked me what I want to accomplish as a mother. What I am aiming for. I said, to have them not resent me and to keep them alive. I have been stewing on that ever since.
Read this entryWeather is not a cancellation. It is a change of room.
This is an outdoor-only activity, so the weather has to cooperate.
Read this noteWhat ten honest minutes actually requires.
I need a lesson plan and a lot of preparation.
Read this noteA smudged page is often the page where thinking happened.
If it comes out messy, the activity failed.
Read this noteRiver glass, tiny shells, and the things she spots before I do.
When we walk by the river, we look for treasure. River glass is always a good find. So are empty snail shells, tiny clam shells, little pieces of driftwood, and whatever else the water has left behind.
Read this entryThree-year-olds are not too young to observe. They are often better at it.
Children ages three to five are too young to look carefully.
Read this noteWhat academic-looking work costs a four-year-old.
Preschool learning has to look academic to count.
Read this noteNaming is the end of a long look, not the price of admission.
I need to know the right answer before I start.
Read this noteThe forest is optional. The noticing is not.
Nature study needs a forest, a field trip, or a special destination.
Read this noteWhy a page earns its place only when it sends a child back outside.
A printable is just busywork.
Read this noteOn becoming the kind of parent who stops for ants.
My three-year-old has appointed herself protector of every small creature on the sidewalk. The roly polys. The ants. The one beetle who picked the wrong day to cross our path.
Read this entryHow a nature practice actually begins. It rarely starts in the woods.
I have always been the kind of person who plans the weekend around morel season. When my daughter was born, I learned to bring her with me. The first thing she ever found was a bright orange chicken of the woods mushroom. She was ten months old.
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