We have the windows down driving north on highway 6 towards Elora, Ontario. The city buildings fade to suburbs that fade to farms that fade to rows of trees. It’s a clear day basked with sunshine and the odd white puffy cloud hanging above us. The urban density of Toronto can be suffocating, so this relief from a crowded haze feels fresh. We are off to sleep in a tent, the first of many in our daughter’s life.

Anyone that lives in Canada knows that summer is forever fleeting. As a new parent with a job that keeps me inside, I feel that I spend most of the time in an office or at home on call for when our girl inevitably wakes up in the night. The flash of city life is less important these days. I am more interested in showing my daughter the intricacy of a tree trunk than a great new restaurant. So for Father’s Day weekend, it seemed best to fill a car with supplies, family and a couple of dogs and head west to trade in the city lights and shiny screens for a campfire and stars.

I don’t like using the term “being in nature”. That itself implies that we are somehow separate from nature, allowed to take part in it or not if we please. It suggests that we can look at it with an outsider’s eye instead of understanding that we are a part of its delicate system. With a shift in perspective we begin the process of not wanting to control, plunder or destroy what is part of us. This shift becomes much more tangible when you surround yourself in an untouched area of the world. You feel the vast life of a forest and see the magical details of a leaf. Like a forest and a leaf, you understand the connectedness of the entire human race is built by the bond of a tight-knit family and community.

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.” – William Blake

Camping with a one-year old is much different than the type of camping I have done in the past. There is certain amount of materials that give you security or ease that you become accustomed to as a new parent. Even though we had a designated camp plot instead of a rugged portage in the backcountry, I could still sense our daughter’s imagination churning with the chaotic structure of the outdoors. Her toys were the sticks and leaves at her feet. The lake was a bath in motion. Entertainment was the flickering wonder of the campfire. It was really amazing to see her walk naked in this setting, like the true animals that we are. I hope to secure these feelings more and take with me the thoughts that fester in situations outside of the city.

*Song Credit: The Journey by Tom Misch