As a boy, I was unaware that my woods were ecologically connected with any other forests. Nobody in the 1950s talked about acid rain or holes in the ozone layer or global warming. But I knew my woods and my fields; I knew every bend in the creek and dip in the beaten paths. I wandered those woods even in my dreams. A kid today can likely tell you about the Amazon rain forest--but not the last time he or she explored the woods in solitude or lay in a field listening to the wind or watching the clouds move.
Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder, p. 1
When I was a kid I lived in a vanilla-white, bland suburb. It was simply a housing tract. It had no town center, no downtown blvd. Not even a Tastee-Freeze. But for most of my growing up, my house backed onto an open field with orange groves and trails to ride our bikes.
In our neighborhood were lots of other fields and hills all for exploring, card-board sliding and catching pollywogs in the creeks.
(Note: They are all gone now. If you go back to my old town you'll find no fields, no cardboard sliding hills and a lot more houses.)
When I was four we moved for a year back to my parents' hometown that was smack in the middle of a redwood tree grove. And every vacation we visited places like Sequoia National Park with it's giant trees. Orange trees, redwood trees, Giant Sequoias. It's amazing that for a kid who grew up in a suburb east of Los Angeles, I have so many memories of trees. 
Last year, when our family went on vacation to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons with some friends, all the kids discovered the joy of climbing trees or walking in the woods, of exploring trails.
Yesterday my son came home from seventh grade concerned that his life science teacher was going to object to the trip we have planned next May to go to Costa Rica for spanish language school. He said, "Dad, the teacher said that every week we have a mandatory science lab class and we can't miss it. What am I going to do about Costa Rica?"
I said, "Do you think that we could convince your life science teacher that living in a rainforest for two weeks is a good lab class?"
He shrugged. (I sure hope so.)
P.S. My friend Steve writes about watching the clouds move with his family in Kaui.
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