Our Earth and Our Children

My grandmother used to say things like 'the cows are lying down it's going to rain', 'don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong' and 'I don't know what the world is coming to'.
Today, some children are so disconnected from the natural world they don't really know much about cows, or rain. As for being curious, children have every right to be in this extraordinary time of uncertainty and change: their futures are at risk. Many are asking, in puzzlement, sadness and despair, what is the world coming to? Will it end up a mighty mess? Will Earth shake us human ants off as a dog shakes raindrops from its coat?
Ann Lindsay's stories wander and weave through landscapes exploring the personal and universal, pain and joy, the mundane and miraculous. A teacher and therapist for those who know trauma, she highlights the fact that children and our planet are inseparable. If one hurts so does the other. Vulnerable to neglect and abuse, each can react in eruptions of volcanic rage and torrents of tears. If we treated all our children with respect, as beautiful and wondrous, would we also treat Earth the same way? If we took responsibility and cared for our natural world passionately, would our children and future generations feel more safely grounded and at home?
Lion lullabies, foxes and snakes in the garden, wild dogs in a cemetery, tree-houses and sand sculptures, wells and memory-soaked soil, urban sprawl and high-rise living, screen security and outdoor risks, food and violence, pot plant nurturing, seal-circling, dolphin healing... By making friends with the natural world, children learn to ride the waves of life, and grow the qualities our planet needs in abundance - imagination, playfulness, spontaneity, focus, purpose, courage, persistence, hope, compassion, love and joy...
A little six-year-old watches in awe as waves thunder onto shore, smothering the sand. On her way home, she picks up a fallen branch from a Norfolk pine and sweeps it back and forth in front of her, declaring, 'I'm clearing all the poisons.' In her blue raincoat and yellow gumboots, her hair 'dancing', as she liked to call it, she looks like a little witch with a broomstick.