AS A professional storyteller, I am lucky to be able to visit different schools and meet lots of different people, young and not so young. The stories I tell are varied, depending on the age of the children and their interests. The teachers often have preferences, too, usually connected to the curriculum but not always.
Regardless of what the story is, I always try to find a way to add something about the natural world, whether it’s in a riddle, a part of the story or even an object of nature I take in to show the children.
With the increased awareness of climate change and environmental destruction, I feel it is the responsibility of anyone in my role to try to enhance a connection with nature and a love for it. But it’s also because I personally love nature and know what it can do for us, so I want to share that.
This week I was passing a horse chestnut tree in my street and, to my surprise, some conker pods had fallen from its branches..
Early in the season I know, but that made the find more satisfying. I took them into the classrooms where I was storytelling to show the children. Nobody knew what the spiky pods were but, when I revealed what was inside them, most of the kids did recognise the conkers.
But there seemed to be a disconnection, because most said they wouldn’t have recognised the tree from which they came or known that the spiky pods contained the conker.
That got me thinking that, no matter how much a story includes nature, it doesn’t compare to experiencing it first hand, to being immersed in the natural world and all its wonders.
The truth is, it’s difficult to really love what you don’t know or rarely experience.
Ideally, our children should have the opportunity to be immersed in woods and wild spaces regularly from an early age.
But, increasingly, we live in an urbanised environment and large woods, or wild spaces are often not nearby. But the good news is you don’t need a big wood to have that experience or develop a connection to nature.
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A nearby small patch of elder trees (some call them shrubs but I like to give them their status) gave my kids an understanding of the cycle of the seasons when they were younger, with its magnificent bloom in the spring and richly coloured berries in the early autumn.
My point is that a few trees, clumped together, can become a forest in a child’s imagination.
They can feel immersed in it, see the changes and understand how the cycle of nature works.
In fact, even just one arching goat willow can create a mini eco-system below it. And one old horse chestnut, once noticed and visited regularly, as my kids still do on their way to school, means there is a connection to the wonder of that old tree.
So while I love being in woods, where the outside world seems to vanish, and where I can imagine myself in a wilder time, I’ve come to recognise that the tiny patches of nature all around us are just as important, if not even more so, in terms of maintaining our daily connection to nature in our increasingly urbanised lifestyles. Even a solitary tree is a marvel, a universe on its own.
But to appreciate them they need to be noticed! For example, once you’ve seen a rowan with its display of red berries, and recognised it, and understood its cycle, and its mythology and the uses of the berries, and can recognise its leaves, then you’re on a journey.
You’ll notice all of them, and sometimes pause to take in their beauty. Right now, the rowan trees in my town lift my spirits every morning.
I suppose this is where storytelling does come in; to ignite interest and hopefully motivate people to notice even the small natural places that are on their doorstep.
That’s the beginning of the journey we all need to be on if we are to save ourselves from our own actions, which are ultimately rooted in our disconnection from nature.
We are systematically destroying our own habitat, thinking we don’t need it or are clever enough to survive without it. That needs to change. That change can begin with developing a relationship with one tree.
As the saying goes, “mighty oak trees from little acorns grow”. Let’s all plant more acorns, or conkers, and other seeds of change, literally and metaphorically.
I see that as my job as a storyteller; but, of course, we can all do it.
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