I trained my son in trespassing today. Must a wonderful, magical, ancient 73-acre forest be exclusive to scientists and educators, as the sign maintains?
He was thrilled by it all, especially the amazing examples of conglomerate rock. Nuts were falling at the rate of raindrops from gigantic 200-year old trees, and it spooked him.
We saw at least seven toads and a large scurrying crayfish. I felt protective of him there, afraid I was introducing him to danger. Is this irresponsible parenting? Yet I sensed this was life-changing in some ways. Important, memorable.
I warned him to not take his friends there, to respect the power of nature’s forces, and to take utmost care to not harm anything.
A 43-year old woman and an 8-year old boy experience even an ancient forest differently and I tried to allow for that.
He climbed down to explore between massive slabs of strewn rock that appeared to have been thrown when a cavern collapsed below it long ago. I perched above, reminding myself a 50-lb. kid is unlikely to be the disturbance that causes a boulder to slide further, that the land would not swallow my boy as I looked on. But I finally got too antsy to take the chance.
He insists he wants to be a geologist. I’m not going to count on it, although I hope that if he does, he’ll teach me about rocks when I’m elderly.
When we are alone, when I am not distracted by my work, his siblings, my marriage, etc., he reveals himself. He talks. And my listening to him in the woods is time well spent.