A
few weeks ago, we returned to the little farm in Northern California, this time with our third child, three-year-old Annie, in tow. We were
going to feed the animals again, but we were also going to take the kids on a hike. To say they were not pleased is an understatement. On
the ride there, ten-year-old William was having a low- level meltdown in the backseat, while his seven-year-old sister Jessie kept asking if there would be benches along the trail for resting. I knew we had our work cut out for us. When we parked and climbed out of the car, Annie heard a whistle from a distant steam train—a popular park attrac- tion—and crouched down in the dirt, yelling “I don’t want to get hit by the train!” I had to coax her onto the path by pointing out a tree just ahead, its branches arching down to form a low canopy. Soon her small legs were bearing her forward as the older two kids ran ahead and my husband and I sauntered behind. The small forest gave way to gentle hills covered in dry grass and a view of the perfect blue sky. And with each step up the low switchbacks, we unfolded. The kids laughed, my jaw unclenched, Annie stopped worrying about the train. Somewhere near the peak, William found the black-
berry bushes. He offered to forage for us, diving into the brambles for minutes at a time to emerge with handfuls of berries so purple they were almost black. We gobbled them hungrily, then climbed higher. At the top we found a wooden swing slung on thick ropes from a branch of a lone tree. The kids took turns swinging off what looked like the top of the world. Walking back down, our fingers stained with wild black-
berry juice, our cheeks flushed, we radiated the same con- fidence I’d seen in those camping kids several years before. William turned to me and asked, “Is this the Himalayas?” “No,” I laughed. “It’s Tilden Park, in Berkeley.” “Oh,” he said. “Is that part of the Himalayas?” I knew we had a long way to go. We still lived and
worked in the city, and our children wouldn’t be giving up their gymnastics and basketball teams anytime soon. Back at home, emails, texts, and status updates awaited, and we’d soon fall back into our busy city lives. But now, armed with an understanding of why being in nature always made us feel so good, I vowed to get us out more often—whether on a hike like this one or a simple visit to one of Boston’s many urban parks. I was motivated to change. “It’s not the Himalayas,” I said to William. “But today it feels like it is.”
38 · LAND&PEOPLE · FALL/WINTER 2013
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