Essay 

​

Excerpt from "Bay Dreaming" 

​

Written for Her Helm by Kristin Rutkowski

 

I wanted to raise my children near the water. I wanted them to learn about life by being immersed in nature: to feel the ebb and flow of the tide, the wind and the waves, to notice the changing of the seasons, and see the sun slip below the horizon each evening. I wanted to give them a solid foundation to help them realize that there is a cycle to life: that everything that lives must die, that roots go down and the plants go up, that even though storms can develop unexpectedly, there is beauty in the clouds and freshness after the rain.

 

Living in that little house near the Chesapeake Bay meant that almost every day, we spent time on or near the water, if only to look at the boats and see what treasures washed ashore: a fishing lure, an odd-shaped piece of driftwood, a shiny sliver of sea glass. Crab shells, snake skins, fish bones, and clam shells were constant reminders of the creatures that lived just below the surface. We also picked up trash that littered the sand, having traveled miles downstream from the Conowingo Dam or tossed from a passing boat. Picking out pieces of plastic while building sandcastles surrounded by moats prompted a conversation about pollution. We talked about how to protect our natural resources. These lessons simply couldn’t be learned in front of a screen.

 

We shared our corner of the world with a variety of birds and wildlife. Swallows, geese, ducks, eagles, blue herons, seagulls, owls, and bats were always nearby. Deer, squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, skunks, opossums, turtles, and groundhogs were our neighbors. Blue-tailed skinks sunned themselves on rocks and then skittered under logs as we approached. In the early evening, peepers announced the arrival of spring. On an oppressive summer night, we watched beavers glide effortlessly, silently through the calm water toward their lodge, slapping their tails before diving and disappearing.

  

In the marsh, the boys caught tadpoles. We took them home in a bucket and put them in the aquarium. Biology class happened at eye level when the tadpoles sprouted legs. Those newly formed frogs were soon released because wild things need to stay wild, not trapped inside a glass box.

 

My kids swam before they could walk and took for granted that they could play in the water whenever the weather permitted. While teaching the concept of gratitude, I reminded them that they were very fortunate because most boys and girls don’t get to swim every day. They were confused and asked, “Why not?” They couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

 

Being so close to nature helped my children develop compassion for living things and a healthy sense of curiosity. Noticing a cluster of butterflies on the beach one morning, my three-year-old son crouched down to get a closer look. After a moment, he asked, “Do butterflies smile, Mom?” He must have thought the butterflies were having fun flying and dancing in the air with their friends. I answered the only way I could: “Yes honey, I’m sure they do.”

​

To read more, get a copy of Her Helm at https://www.herhelm.com/