Sundays during my childhood meant making the arduous trek over hill and hollow to my maternal grandparents’ house for dinner. The scenic journey along state Route 11 bordered patchwork-quilt farms, wound between walls of sheer rock, and skirted pitch-black openings in the hillside that ignited my childish imagination, all the while roughly paralleling the south fork of the Kentucky River. Oftentimes I spent the duration with my nose in a book, singing with my sisters, or listening to my mother tell stories of growing up and rarely traveling beyond those hills. So familiar was this trip that I can still close my eyes and retrace its meandering course.
On one such Sunday excursion, when I was about 8 years old, my father suddenly proclaimed, “Look out the window, girls. Take a good look around. The world will never again look exactly the same as it does today.” I begged to differ, pointing out that it looked just like it did the last time we drove this way.
He explained that while it may appear to be the same, it wasn’t. The leaves on the trees had changed color, even if only slightly. Leaves had fallen. Different clouds were in the sky. Different water was flowing down the river.
Prior to this conversation, I’d considered the earth as merely a backdrop against which my life was meant to unfold. But in that moment, the earth became a living entity, with a life of its own, and the seeds of my environmental conscience had been sown.
Having been allowed to revel in nature as a youngster — climbing trees, catching all manner of creatures, exploring the woods in search of fairies and wildflowers — the transition from casual observer to student and steward came about quite naturally with the guidance my father provided. He taught me to identify trees by their leaves, birds by their song and plumage, and the constellations by their pattern of stars. He explained the life cycle, the water cycle, and rainbows. While I may not have completely comprehended the words, the wonderment with which he conveyed this information was contagious. He made it clear that the ability to explain a phenomenon renders it no less miraculous.
These vivid recollections were prompted by an e-mail exchange with my son. He suggested I write an article exploring the role of parents in influencing environmental awareness in their children. When asked about the goal of the article, he replied, “to encourage parents to raise strong advocates for the earth who adhere to environmentally responsible practices.” His heartfelt message reflected the appreciation, knowledge, and respect for nature that had been shared with him. My father’s legacy of establishing a connection to the earth is in good hands.
Establish a legacy for your children:
• Revel in nature. Roll in the grass. Walk in the woods. Wade in a stream.
• Identify nature. Books and apps can help.
• Plant something. Whether it’s a garden on the terrace, windowsill, or rooftop or a single seed in an old boot, watch something grow.
• Bring nature indoors. Collect rocks, feathers, nuts, and shells.
• Create nature-inspired art projects.
• Work in the yard or adopt a space to maintain in your neighborhood or local park.
• Participate in conservation and anti-pollution efforts. Consume less. Waste less. Share more.
• Celebrate the earth every day, not just once a year.
There are those who lack contact with nature. From the time they rise in the morning until they retire at night, they don’t step foot on actual ground, they don’t encounter a wild creature, and they experience the weather as something they seek to avoid while getting from one place to another. This lack of connection with the natural world contributes to indifference.
Those who are ignorant of, or refuse to acknowledge, the interconnection between human activity and the environment are easily persuaded to adopt and support practices that potentially cause irreparable damage to our planet, especially if they mean to benefit financially. They are operating on the misguided notion that they’ll be immune to the consequences. But nature is apolitical and its forces are completely unbiased. Political affiliation, socioeconomic status, age, race, or religion are irrelevant. The environment is the one thing that cannot be corrected after the next election cycle.
The earth is an approximation of a closed system, which means, what is here is all there is. Fresh air, clean water, and healthy soil cannot be pumped in from outer space. Nature’s ability to recover from whatever damage we inflict is not infinite. The effects of human activity on the environment will continue to occur whether we believe it or not. The choice of whether or not to limit those effects is ours. But it is our children and grandchildren who will inherit the consequences of our choices.
Raising children to become good stewards of our planet begins by fostering their personal relationship with nature — a connection to the earth. If we expect them to adhere to environmentally responsible practices, we must do so first. Imagine what could happen if we all intended to leave the earth a little better than we found it.
Carolyn Waterbury-Tieman is a resident of Lexington, Ky. She has been married for 29 years and has two sons. She spent 15 years in various agencies and clinics as a family therapist and parent educator and has written extensively on the topic of parenting. To contact her, please e-mail paren
