It's raining again. As much as I love the rain, I wish the sky would produce something else for awhile. Maybe Oobleck.

One of the volunteers who helped out with my field class this week tried to describe to me an epiphany she had while on the long hike yesterday. She said that she was looking out over the forested landscape after we'd wrapped up the solo hike, and it all just sort of clicked for her. She couldn't really describe the feeling in detail, but I could tell she had made some sort of connection with the natural world. Helping people find that connection, I think, is the reason I do this kind of work. We don't often get to hear that kind of feedback though. If the teenaged volunteers can't put it into words, then the fifth and sixth graders are even less likely to be able to verbalize their feelings beyond saying what they liked and didn't like. Our closing circles at the end of each week are always much less profound than I would hope for. It's sometimes frustrating that more kids don't wake up and smell the wilderness.

This week, before the closing circle I told an old folktale about the relationship between mice and Douglas Fir trees (look at a Douglas Fir cone and you can see that between each scale there is a little protruberance that resembles the hindquarters of a mouse). The story involves talking animals and talking trees, and a Douglas Fir being rescued from a forest fire by rodents. After I had finished it there was a moment of silence, interrupted by one of the kids raising his hand and asking, "was that a true story?"

It's an uphill battle sometimes.