Attention Is the Beginning of Devotion: My Family’s Journey with Earth Path

My three school-aged children were back to learning virtually, while my husband was also working from home, all within the confines of our little townhouse. Meanwhile, my youngest daughter had just turned two, and part of me was deeply mourning the loss of what was supposed to have been a special time for just her and me. My last baby, my last chance to do all of the things I had done with my other three: playgroups, swim lessons, museum visits, neighbourhood walks, or simply being at home together. Part of me loved having my whole family home, but the uncertainty, worry, and mourning what could have been — these feelings lingered, too.

Around this time, I stumbled upon a post in a Facebook group announcing that a local nature school still had space in its fall toddler program. This was the first time I’d ever heard of Earth Path, but within five minutes of clicking the link, I had enrolled my daughter and I into their Oaks and Acorns program for the fall semester. I remember thinking to myself that this was something that could be ours. That no matter what was happening in the world, we’d have this one morning a week together out in the forest. I was so excited. 

I will never forget pulling into the parking lot on that first day. I was admittedly a bit nervous, and really had no idea what to expect. But when Nikki and Brent arrived to the designated meeting spot dressed in whimsical animal onesies, I was immediately charmed. A little while later, they brought us to a cozy spot near a meadow, where Nikki led us in a song and Brent led a round of gratitude. I could feel my heart lightening by the minute. That first morning we explored and frolicked, played in the dirt, stopped to look at flowers and bugs, listened to the birds, and tasted crab apples. My daughter and I went home filled with stories and excitement, and I knew that I had made a very good decision.

As the seasons went on, my daughter and I looked forward to Tuesday mornings, wondering aloud what we would do or learn or see that week. And each week brought something new to marvel at: mushrooms that looked like tiny umbrellas, snails on a rainy day, warm campfires to eat around, cozy shelters among the pines, snowy hills to slide down, mud puddles and dirt piles, fallen logs that became balance beams, a frog pond to wade in, colourful leaves to shape into a mandala, chickadees that would eat from our hand. We played games, sang songs, and shared stories. We learned about animal tracks and bird calls and plants we could eat. 

Somewhere along the way, I realized that this program had done everything I had hoped it would do for my daughter, and more. She was making friends, learning through play and exploration, and spending time outdoors in all kinds of weather. She was becoming adventurous and resilient, and having her natural curiosities celebrated. 

Beyond all of that, however, I realized that this program was doing just as much for me. I suddenly found myself stopping to listen to the birds outside my house, trying to figure out if it was a companion call or an alarm call, and what kind of bird was that, anyway? I found myself paying attention as I walked through the woods, on the lookout for wood sorrel, now that I knew it was as delicious as it was beautiful. I found myself telling stories at the dinner table about how plantain can save your life, or teaching my kids songs about skunks and the beauty of rainy days.

My daughter and I did two full years in the Oaks and Acorns program, and I hold those memories among the most dear. I can look through my photos from Earth Path and literally see her grow from a tiny two-year-old who had spent most of her life in COVID lockdowns, to a brave and confident four-year-old, running through the woods, sitting high in a tree, or watching a slimy snail inch along her palm. 

She is six now, and she can still tell you that the mushroom growing on that tree stump is called turkey tail, or that plantain can help soothe your mosquito bite, or that a chickadee’s song sounds like “cheeseburger!” What I cherish most of all, though, is the way she genuinely connects with nature. She remains curious and resilient, filled with questions and awe, always stopping to point out a feather, a bird’s nest, or — her favourite — a mushroom. No matter the season or the weather, she is happiest outside, ready to frolic, explore, and climb. She is a self-proclaimed “nature girl” and I hope it never changes.

And as for me, well, I simply wasn’t ready to leave behind the place that had brought so much goodness and beauty to my life. I applied to be a supply staff member, which led to me becoming a nature educator, where I’ve been mentored by some amazing educators who are infinitely generous with their knowledge and skills. I’ve also been fortunate enough to attend Earth Path’s Adult Wilderness Skills Program, allowing me to practice a variety of naturalist learnings and survival skills, from fire making and shelter building to wildlife tracking and plant identification. 

There is something infinitely satisfying about reconnecting with our ancestral skills and knowledge. Collecting materials for a fire, and knowing how to build and feed it. Bending and weaving rods of willow into a beautiful basket. Sitting alone on a ridge and mapping all of the bird sounds, writing the story of the forest. Foraging and eating wild edibles. Holding strands of bark in your fingers, twisting and folding it into cordage. Practices like these have become commonplace in my life, thanks to Earth Path.

Beyond all of the skills and knowledge, though, Earth Path has gifted me with something else. The connection I now feel to all of this — the earth, the trees, the creatures great and small, the history of all that came before me — has been truly restorative. Spending time at Earth Path opened me up and filled me with a desire to learn more, and a yearning to connect deeper with the beauty and magic that exists all around us, if we only slow down long enough to really see it. 

What a gift to be here in the world, to hear the birds, to see the leaves dancing in the breeze, to be warmed by the sun, to smell the pines and the apple blossoms. What a gift all of these things are, presented to us every day, asking for nothing in return, just waiting for us to stop and notice and cherish. 

Mary Oliver once wrote, with regards to children connecting with nature: “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” I remain grateful everyday that Earth Path gently invited me to slow down. To wonder. To wander. To start paying attention.

Laura Harfield