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Sustaining our Connection with Nature: The Why and How of Nature Study

Writer's picture: Kate BridgesKate Bridges

Kate Bridges


I am typing this whilst watching my seven year old son from my window, hugging his knees in a corner of the garden, silent and observant for over twenty minutes now, tracking the slow progress of our reclusive garden tortoise. This child who cannot sit still in a chair, who perches on his dinner seat like a bird, always bobbing and moving, is stilled and calmed by nature with a level of peace and acceptance that I can only wonder at. Oh to be so wholly present with tree, dirt, water and creature as this boy! To be so easily filled with rapturous wonder; “look at this locust mummy! It’s wings are dazzling!”My own mind flits and darts, overthinks the discomfort of grass and soil, reacts with irrational squeamishness, becomes anxious with distant things. The practice of peace and presence is clearly more natural to my son. Sitting there, so calm and connected, he brings to mind the author, Richard Louv, who insisted that nature was his “Ritalin," saying, “Nature calmed me, focused me, and yet excited my senses.”


What a gift we have on our doorstep.


A friend recently expressed awe at all the ways I incorporate nature study into our family’s homeschooling rhythms. “How do you find the time Kate? Or get the ideas? I just don’t think it’s my forte. And my kids wouldn’t be into it. The desk-based stuff is so much easier to plug in and play.”


So I told her my secret.


This isn’t actually for the kids.


I mean, certainly, intentional nature immersion and observation will benefit my kids, in incredible, life-giving ways. But the only reason I can bring passion and energy to this particular aspect of our homeschooling journey is because I know, on a profound personal level, the value that the cultivation of my own nature-bond has for me. And that is where it starts. If you’re not already making nature observation and appreciation a pillar of your homeschooling journey, it may be that you have forgotten how desperately your own soul needs this.


I say “forgotten” because I firmly believe we’re all created with a powerful, innate bond to flora and fauna, to soil and rock, and of course, to the Creator of them all. The problem is that we become immersed, at a younger and younger age, in the economic systems, distractions, distorted priorities, prejudices and societal norms that sever this natural cord. As Terry Krautwurst puts it, “our challenge isn’t so much to teach children about the natural world, but to find ways to sustain the instinctive connections they already carry.” I might add that our challenge is to help them sustain that inborn connection and thereafter let them teach us adults to restitch our own severed ties.


So if I were to preach a rationale for nature study, my first point would be this: you as the parent need this as much, if not even more than your children. Their innate wonder has not yet been so stunted and starved via a lack of cultivation. Get out in nature because your children, especially the younger ones who have not yet forgotten their bond, might just teach you how to heal.


And we do need healing. As humans, we are increasingly suffering from what Louv terms “nature-deficit disorder,” which describes “the human costs of alienation from nature, among them: diminished use of the senses, attention difficulties, and higher rates of physical and emotional illness.” The disorder and its effects are ubiquitous. Michael Easter notes that roughly three-quarters of jobs are now sedentary, and we’re sitting more every year: “Over the last decade, the average American added another hour of daily sitting. Adults now sit for six and a half hours, while kids sit more than eight (the removal of recess hasn’t helped, either).” He painstakingly lays out the evidence and ills of “living progressively sheltered, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, under-challenged, safety-netted lives.”


children sitting on rocks by riverside

And this is before we consider the particular challenge that has come via the rise of social media, ever-present devices and a 24-hour, highly partisan news cycle. Us adults are vulnerable, and our children even more so. Their natural inclination towards nature is being eroded now by increasingly powerful forces. The most recent Gallup data show that American teens spend about five hours a day just on social-media platforms. Add in all the other phone- and screen-based activities, and the number rises to somewhere between seven and nine hours a day, on average. The numbers are even higher in single-parent and low-income families. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt is currently ringing alarm bells over the devastating mental health affects (including increases in self harm, suicide and depression, especially among girls) that have come via replacement of a play-based childhood with a phone-based one. I personally don’t need anyone to convince me of the unsatisfying and anxiety-producing effects of too much time spent online. The shallow dopamine hit too often disguises a festering sense of inadequacy and fuels a lurking self-absorption that I know all too well. As Haidt says, “The phone is an experience blocker. You spend a lot less time in the presence of people… You’re sleeping less, you’re in nature less, you read fewer books,… you have less of almost everything.”


In all of this, nature can be a powerful antidote. It offers reconnection to creation, Creator and to our own purpose as His creatures.


And so nature study begins with stopping. Stop rushing. Stop flitting. Stop scrolling. Stop passively drifting with the flow. Recover your intentionality and choose to stop feeding off the activities that offer addictive dopamine spikes (cartoon streaming, video games, social media scrolling). Be intentional about how you can replace these with deeper soul food, so that you and your family might reconnect with the essence of who He is and who you are.


“The universe is represented in every one of its particles. Everything is made of one hidden stuff. The world globes itself in a drop of dew. The true doctrine of omnipresence is that God appears with all His parts in every moss and cobweb.”

– Ralph Waldo Emmerson


Viewed this way, nature is not only something my family does for its mental health (though it certainly is that). It is also one of the primary ways we worship our Creator God, whose Heavens declare Who He is (Psalm 19v1). Via deep, intentional observation of the created world, His majesty and creativity is revealed; The incredible organisation of ants as they shift a colony to higher ground; the multicoloured scales of a butterfly’s wing, only evident under microscope; the sprawling, creeping mass of threadlike fungal networks, revealed as we peer under rotting wood and leaves; the icy swirl and wisp of delicate cirrus clouds against a cerulean sky. All of these marvels sit on our doorsteps, begging our attention, our questions and awe, and yet so often obscured by our bustle and distractability.


By stopping, noticing and sitting with nature we reconnect with the Creator and, at the same time, we imbue our whole learning journey with wonder.


“Shh. Listen to the sounds that surround you.

Notice the pitches, the volume, the timbre, the many lines of counterpoint.

As light taught Monet to paint, the earth may be teaching you music.”

― Pete Seeger


What a gift it is to give your children a wonder-filled education. Nature offers my family pure, unadulterated wonder as a hook to spark mine and my child’s curiosity and questions. And everything we understand about how children learn is that when their curiosity is activated, their neurons fire. The learning embeds that much deeper because it is born of interest, relevance and driven by their own questions.


children climbing a sand dune

So, do we take from all this that we just open our doors and let the children run free, allowing nature to teach them all they need, uninhibited by our parental overtures?


Well, in some cases it doubtless would be a good thing for us a cede a little space to our child’s self-drive and curiosity. Too often we hover and prompt, turning every forest walk into an intensive lesson on biomes (you know who you are, well-meaning nature mum). Sometimes we do need to step back and give them space to know a place and discover its mysteries themselves.


“Given a chance, a child will bring the confusion of the world to the woods, wash it in the creek, turn it over to see what lives on the unseen side of that confusion. Nature can frighten a child, too, and this fright serves a purpose. In nature, a child finds freedom, fantasy, and privacy: a place distant from the adult world, a separate peace.” ― Richard Louv


But I’d argue we can do more than simply cede space. There is an important scaffolding role here for you as a parent, and in my experience, there are a number of very practical ways you can build a love and habit of nature study in your family.


  1. Create a pick up and go nature journaling kit In a box near the door sits my family’s nature journaling bag. Its contents change up regularly, but as standard, there will always be something like the following: a simple A5 sketchbook per child, pocket size watercolours (good quality, long lasting); a soft case of pencils, brushes and charcoals, with a rubber and sharpener; a small jar for water; a cloth for mopping and wiping; magnifying glass/ pocket microscope for close investigations; a small roll-up mat; pocket binoculars; a foldable whittling knife. This bag can get thrown in the car anytime we go on an excursion, so the option is always there for a focused observation activity if the mood takes us.

  2. Use prompts to deepen observation Unless you’ve somehow resisted humanity’s passive dislocation from the wild, you should assume that you’re going to need some help practicing deep observation. I highly recommend you make John Muir Laws’ three observation prompts a regular practice on your nature excursions. Discuss and note yours and your children’s response to the three prompts: I notice… I wonder… It reminds me of (INIWIRMO). The Wild Wonder website offers a handy free e-zine that captures these prompts for you.

  3. Stop watching the clock The biggest drain to yours and your child’s ability to feel present in nature will be the looming reminder of an unrelenting schedule. I have learned that for my children to enjoy a mountain climb, the pace needs to be meandering. They need space to stop and marvel at shiny rocks, time to press their face against a bed of moss and regular stops to breath the herb-scented air whilst munching on a snack. So give yourself and them unscheduled time in the outdoors, and include buffers for the unexpected exploration and deep immersion that may just come. This kind of slowness is only possible if, as fellow homeschooler Angelique Knaup recommends, you create “margin” in your family’s life.

  4. Get some pointers You don’t need to be an artist to nature journal. In fact, it will help your children if what you demonstrate is a willingness to engage in nature observations as a total amateur and avid learner. They’ll feel less intimidated if you embrace your own imperfections. That said, a few pointers on how to think about perspective of flowers, or how to utilise watercolour to best effect, can really help build yours and your children’s enjoyment of the process. A fantastic place to start with tips and video guides is John Muir Laws website or nature journaling guide.

  5. Respond to interest There are many ways to indulge a child’s love and appreciation of the outdoors, and not all will be the same. I have one child who engages best with watercolour and paper. I have another whose hands-on needs mean his nature kit comes complete with microscope, whittling set and compass. Yet another son appreciates taxonomy and nature guides. Learn what inspires them and draw them into nature with that. Also, be ready to follow their lead. My one son has gotten me to embrace making art media from natural materials, as he loves nothing better than to crush his earth and petal into pastes with pestle and mortar. My eldest draws me towards sand sculpture and loves colour observations. There’s no single way to do this. Nature journals can be very scientific or they might veer more towards the poetic. I personally love to combine the two. Think of yourself as partnering in your children’s explorations, rather than leading them. Some days they will riff off your experimentation, other days you’ll be inspired by theirs.

  6. Build a reference library If you cultivate space for their questions, believe me, those questions will come. This shouldn’t scare you. You don’t need to know all the answers yourself. But it does help to have reputable, wonder-filled resources that you can delve into. So build that library of beautiful reference books! A beautifully illustrated reference encyclopedia isn’t cheap, but you will come back to it again and again as a family. Pocket guides on the flora and fauna around you are great to have when trying to name and understand your findings better. Books on nature poetry and botanical illustration will help feed your family’s wonder and appreciation, whilst giving ideas as to how they can express their own.

  7. Remove the shallow dopamine hits I know this is a hard one, but here’s what I know for my family; if my son routinely has access to those activities that hijack neural pathways by providing quick, addictive bursts of dopamine, he is going to be more resistant to activities that, although they offer long lasting benefits , require effort, focus and a level of perseverance in hard things (grit!). In short, if you want a nature-bonded family, you’ll need to limit the devices. If this sounds hard, then Jonathan Haidt’s book – The Anxious Generation – provides rationale and practical tips for how to make this shift away from a device-based childhood possible. It’s worth it.

Lastly, give yourself some grace. Cultivating a love of nature and a practice of appreciation will take practice. Be intentional and enjoy the journey, remembering that it’s for yourself as much as for your children. There’s a world of wonder just waiting on your doorstep.


child's watercolour nature picture

 

Kate Bridges is a Zimbabwean Scot, mum of three, political economist in her day job, artist, writer, lover of books, slow travel, wild swimming, politics, philosophy and theology. Married to a biochemist and a recent returnee to her beloved Zimbabwe, she has a particular penchant for thematic, hands-on learning, and fully embraces the notion that learning can take place anywhere and everywhere. Whenever possible her family’s classroom is outdoors.She has recently started creating hands-on learning resources specifically for the Sub-Saharan Africa context. You can find out more about her family’s learning journey at @barefootinthebundu (Instagram)

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