A child wandered in the woods;

Wondering many things, caught up in the wonder of it all;

What would she glean from that day, that moment in time, from morning to afternoon?

How would it shape her journey on this path called life?

What would she carry with her, or leave behind? There was so much to learn.

Nature walks became part of this child's day,

She first noticed the pussy willows bloom in spring, their fuzziness like a soft kitten's fur, so different from a leaf,

There were eggs in a nest, her father cautioned her not to touch, just watch from day to day to see what happened - oh the wonder of it all,

The fireweed, first short, then growing taller as the days progressed, tall but without blooms. Watch, he said, see what you'll learn as summer days grow long.

There were the trees with strong branches, perfect for climbing, if she dared and no one was watching - what fun!

And there was grass to tickle her toes as she ran barefoot in the field, her oneness with nature, the best part of the day.

Then one day the eggs hatched, it was a glorious wonder, baby birds, and that meant new life, if only she could touch;

She knew better, she'd been told -- if you handle the babies the mother will reject them, they will die without their mother to nurture them, give them food and shelter,

Handling them would not be good.

The fireweed had started to bloom, but curiously, only from the bottom. Magenta blossoms burst forth like flames;

Across her path a rabbit hopped, a worthy distraction on a summer's day,

She paused to watch a mama moose cross the slough with her calf, she knew to keep her distance, but they were fun to watch,

Sometimes she'd meet friends who'd challenge her to climb a tree or run a race, those were wonderful, carefree days.

Some days the family would drive to town, it was growing up around her, even at that tender age she could see,

Stores sprang up where once there were woods - with luck, progress wouldn't take her precious trees and meadow.

Where would she walk barefoot then?

She had parents now,

But, had she been like the baby birds in the nest? She knew that she had been born in a big city far away.

There were no memories from then, or of the mother who had given her life,

The parents she called mom and dad had given her a home at three days old.

They gave her freely of their love, they moved away and made a home, whisked away from the big city she had wilderness to explore, each and every day.

Sometimes they would visit the big city, but she was always happy to return to her precious woods and small home.

She lived in the land of the midnight sun where the sun stayed up all night long.

This city was a foreign place, it was summer and dark at night, she cried because she didn't understand - It was so much better to be home.

They were a family.

The land of the Midnight Sun - it was here that she learned of Mother Nature;

The one that nurtured her sense of adventure, who revealed new wonders on her path every day;
The one her father had taught her to love and respect, just as she would love and respect her own parents;

Love and respect are important in a family, every day,

She shared those adventures with her own mother, the one who had chosen her to be her own daughter, the one who had chosen to love and nurture her as if from her own flesh.

Whether it was a chance encounter with a porcupine, best to keep a safe distance and avoid the quills -- or the randomness of crossing paths with a bear upon the road, fortunately, from the safety of the old station wagon, she and her mother shared their adventures, as gifts from Mother Nature.

The baby birds eventually left the nest and were learning to fly,

The fireweed blooms, halfway up from the bottom now.

There were frogs and grasshoppers to catch, butterflies and dragonflies to chase across the field,

There were mountains in the distance, streams to wade in with pant legs rolled to the knees, even when the water was icy cold, the mud squished between her bare toes,

She learned that the frogs had grown from tadpoles, and the silvery fish had grown from hatchlings in the spring, summer was cresting and the days would soon diminish, minute by minute, growing shorter,

The fireweed had bloomed all the way to the top, what a glorious blaze of color in the field.

She learned that it would soon go to seed, turn white and blow like cotton in the wind, then Mother Nature would let it return again, reborn in spring.

The cotton in the wind, like the snow that it foretold in six weeks time, so the Native stories go, they too revere Mother Nature and treat her with respect, we should learn from them.

Termination dust blankets the mountains, quietly, frost sneaks in to replace the morning dew,
It is just a matter of time, the birds fly in V-formations, gathering their families to migrate to their winter homes, nurtured by the wisdom of Mother Nature.

The midnight sun yields to the onset of long nights, where the mercury dips below the zero line;

She danced to the same tune as the Northern Lights as they streaked playfully across the sky, so trusting of Mother Nature that she would fall straight back in the snowbank and make snow angels as she gazed up at the Big Dipper.

There was much to learn for the child who wandered in the woods, they are as much a part of her as she is them, all nurtured by the same mother.

That child was me, won't you please show respect to my family?

Consider me the sister you never knew, as Mother Nature knows no strangers, every child belongs to her, and she to them.

Will you embrace her, too?