Off the Beaten Path

By Mimi Greenwood Knight

The work will wait while you show the child the rainbow but the rainbow won't wait while you do the work.
~Author Unknown

Here we go again. It's back-to-school time. Two-year-old Hewson, having played with his sisters all summer, is broken-hearted to watch them climb the steps of the old yellow school bus. He insists we watch until the bus is a speck in the distance. Now what?

I decide a walk through the autumn woods might be just the medicine for my little broken-hearted boy. We head for the trail at the back of our property, carrying an empty basket to fill with leaves. We hold hands and sing Sesame Street songs. Enough leaves have fallen that we can crunch them under our feet and Hewson forgets his tale of woe. Toddlers are so easy.

Not far into the woods, he heads off the trail. "No, no, sweetie. We have to stay on the trail or we'll get lost." He protests for a second, then allows himself to be led back down the path. I find some pale yellow leaves and a few orange ones, some yellow-and-brown-spotted ones and an interesting golden one — but no red.

Hewson grabs any old, brown crunchy foliage. Pine needles, bark, sticks, moss — it all goes into the basket. Not much farther down the path, he heads off again. I explain that there may be stickers or poison ivy, neither of which means much to a two-year-old. I say there might be spiders or snakes, which only makes it more intriguing.

"Come on," I urge. "We'll be at the river soon." He is not swayed.

Now I pride myself in letting my kids color outside the lines — explore and discover, make their own mistakes and test their limits. I've let them get dirty and play in the rain. They've taken baths with their clothes on just 'cause. They've had ice cream for breakfast and breakfast for dinner because rules are made to be broken.

Right now though, I'm enjoying the safety and familiarity of the trail. We could get lost if we leave it. Well, not really. Whichever way we go, we're bound to run into the river on one side or a neighbor's property on the other. What about snakes or spiders? How many times have I told them, "Snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them?" As for spiders, my children have inherited my fascination with arachnids. That excuse won't fly either.

I look at Hewson's gap-toothed grin and ask myself whether I want my children to be happy following the comfortable, familiar path that someone else laid for them rather than forging their own. The answer is obvious. We begin to duck under vines and over fallen trees. I let him lead and he does so without looking back.

Farther into the unknown, I notice trees I've never seen before. A massive red maple stretches up and out of the pine cap. Here are the red leaves we were looking for. A spider's web curtains the trail in front of us still jeweled with the morning's dew. The earth smells so dark and rich you can almost taste it. Birds call little two and three note songs on either side. Squirrels clamber to safety, then stop to watch us pass. The temperature is five degrees cooler and droplets of dew stick to our faces, hair and clothes. Moss decorates the ground and the sides of tree trunks. Here and there a shaft of light slices through. I see flowers I imagine don't even have names yet. It's like we've discovered a hidden world.

Looking ahead, I see Hewson far in front and I thank God for putting this little person in my life to take me off the beaten path, to get me out of the known and into the who-knows. I'm not sure where he will lead me but suddenly I'm excited to be going.

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