Read by Matilda Longbottom

“Pinocchio” dropped from the maple tree at my feet, and I couldn’t resist showing my grandson how we used to pull the gooey top and stick both sides onto our noses to see whose would stay on longer. It was a teachable moment, a tradition I hoped would be passed down to future generations. I still wonder who invented that name and game.

David Thoreau often celebrated the overlooked beauties of “every leaf and twig” in his 1854 book “Walden.” Years later, Andrew Wyeth focused on the fragile rhythms and intricate details of plant life. His paintings emphasize botanical imagination.

Botanical Imagination: The perfect term for those moments when a child holds a buttercup under their chin to see if it, like butter, blows a wish into the moon flower of a dandelion, or takes a bite of a honeysuckle flower for a sweet treat. Daisy petals provide the amusement of, “Does he love me, does he not?”

In the 50s and 60s, nearby Morris Park held many adventures and surprises. Whether it was a dried locust shell standing stiff on a tree like a monster or creekside ferns we fanned ourselves with, not to mention every bright piece of quartz we prized like magical stones to skip across the brook. How did we manage to have fun without today’s cell phones, iPads, switches, and video games? It was time together, collectively studying flora and fauna, which spoke to us—showing us possibilities and uses in our pretend world.

As a teacher, outdoor recess can be grueling. While some play basketball, volleyball, or draw with chalk on the pavement, my responsibility to ensure no one gets hurt often leads me to sit on concrete steps, where I spy rusty screws and shards of broken glass in corners. But one day, Michaela kicked over a small brown item—an acorn top! We looked at it, turning it over, and I asked her what it could be. “How about a hat?” She grinned. Yes, it was the acorn’s hat, and anyone could draw a face on the nut itself. Slowly, we brainstormed—it could be a pot lid, a cup, a mini-birdbath. The lowly, lonely acorn began to take on a world of possibilities. I’ll never forget that day with her.

As the Rose of Sharon blossoms in our hedges, their faces smile back at me, reminding me of my friend Jeannie and playing princess dolls by turning the blossoms upside down, inserting a toothpick, pressing a seed on top for a head with a leaf hat, and gliding our “dolls” up and down the pavement in a parade of pageantry fit for a king. Nearby, Queen Anne’s Lace provided us parasols from the sun, and we were the queens overseeing which pastel pink or white contestant doll won a prize. No other toy I’ve ever received in my life gave me such joy and satisfaction and that “Aha!” moment of fun for free.

As instant gratification is for today’s children with all of the electronic stimuli, what they’re missing can’t be bought, can’t be wrapped. Mother Nature, the supreme teacher of our world, can turn a leaf into a lesson plan, making students of all of us at any age. Just look. ❖

About the Author: Hannah Dougherty Campbell, a spirited wordsmith with a heart as lush as her garden, hails from the suburbs of Philadelphia. Inspired by the beauty of nature and the resilience of the human spirit, Hannah found solace and creativity in crafting heartfelt poetry. With a background in teaching and a passion for nurturing creativity, she imparts her wisdom through her creative-writing classes, where she encourages others to explore the depths of their souls through the written word. Her cherished tradition of assigning flowers to personalities has blossomed into a family heirloom, enriching the lives of her loved ones and students alike. Through her work, she reminds us all of the delicate dance between nature and humanity, where every petal tells a story and every soul blooms in its own unique way.