I remember the first time I stood on the south rim of the Grand Canyon.  I was 11 years old and knew virtually nothing of geology or biology. My sense of awe has not changed in any way now that I can contemplate vast spans of time and the pageant of extinct life forms locked in those pastel layers. I have stood at that precipice, a mile above the Colorado River, at least a half dozen times since then. My senses are not more excited when accompanied by a knowledge that the sediments that once extended across that great gulf were washed grain by grain into the Sea of Cortez, or by fancying the possibility that I might have strolled over those same sediments on a beach in Baja California. Rivers are indeed wonderful, but only because our minds are capable of wonder.

As we floated down the Caney Fork, my aims drifted farther and farther from any intended self-appeasement or conflict resolution. I had wanted to settle things with Ron, to tell him why his actions had been more than a small annoyance to me, but somehow the riparian backdrop absorbed any prior inclination. Wild places have a way of reminding us that our concerns can be insignificant, yet in our humbled state we find greater appreciation for our own existence. We don’t need grand reminders that our planet is truly magnificent when a cold, clear river can do the trick—the glint of sunshine on every riffle, hummingbirds sipping from vivid cardinal flowers on the banks, an osprey circling overhead clutching a fish in its talons, and the amplification of every sensation through watching one’s children explore and learn.

We canoed six miles at a leisurely pace and arrived at the take-out point in the late afternoon. Spirits were high as we made our way to a lakeside campground, set up tents and cooked hotdogs over an open fire. The kids surveyed the area for bugs, played in the woods, and collected fire wood. There were a dozen opportunities for either Ron or I to broach the subject of our recent social hiatus and its corollaries, but we didn’t. For me, it seemed that the reasons for talking about conflict had passed like the scenery on that river.

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Nature Based Family Values
written by Soapy, December 18, 2008

This is an absolutely delicious "sense of place" piece!

I'm tickled that kids got so into the moment. I might even have to do some winter seining just to keep up

Think of the potential joy we steal from kids when we don't give them opportunities to get dirty on their own volition. This MudMomma is smilin'....

We should find a way to connect with Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods. You know he's from Olathe? Weird how things work out sometimes....

Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder has spurred a national dialogue among educators, health professionals, parents, developers and conservationists. This is a book that will change the way you think about your future and the future of your children. http://richardlouv.com/last-child-woods

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