Last summer I found myself living a plant nerd’s dream. I spent six mornings in three local parks, traipsing among the wildflowers, a clipboard, pencil, magnifying glass and a copy of Colorado Flora, Eastern Slope at the ready.
“Look over here,” our class instructor said one morning, the enthusiasm in his voice causing us to scurry to the roads’ edge, “It’s Aralia nudicaulis, or wild sarsaparilla. It grows here, and only two other places in all of Colorado. It’s another relic from before the Ice Age.”
“Ahhhh,” we murmured. Earlier we’d seen horned hazelnut trees, which had also miraculously survived the Ice Age near the mountain stream . . . and now this! The creek burbled, Douglas fir and white pine perfumed the air as we peered closer. For me– who as a child had been enthralled with books like My Side of the Mountain and Where the Lilies Bloom–participating in the Native Plants Course was pure bliss.
The three courses, each twelve hours long and all outdoors, are offered through Colorado State University’s Extension Office each year, from the end of May through the first week of September. Participants learn botanical characteristics of plant families and species, identification, scientific names, history and stewardship. In our class, we got to, like Euell Gibbons, stalk the edible wild asparagus. We also examined the red dye from cochineal insects that feed on prickly pear cactus and learned about the dye’s use (now used mainly for food and cosmetics, but in the past for textiles; in fact, it is the substance that gave the British soldiers’ red coats their color) . We identified deadly hemlock, and we heard Native American lore–for example, how branches from the snowberry bush (or ghost berry bush, as they called it) were used to weave cradles for infants, and how they believed the white berries contained the spirits of their ancestors. On one trail, we walked an arm’s length away from an active, wild honeybee hive; and, no, they did not harass us, they were quite content at their honey making.
Courses like these, including the well-known Master Gardener classes, also offered by CSU Extension, greatly enhance Colorado living. They teach about our environment, and how we, as humans, figure into it, but, more than that, they teach us how to truly see our environment. When eyes are opened, no longer do just “trees” surround you, but Abies concolor (white fir) and Acer glabrum (Rocky Mountain maple) and Populus angustifolia (narrowleaf cottonwood). When leaf shapes, numbers of needle bundles on conifer species, structure of flowers and other fascinating details are fleshed out in the consciousness, the view of nature surrounding us, as we walk in our neighborhoods or drive down a highway, greatly expands.
Again and again last summer I thought: kids should be seeing this, kids should be doing this, they are the ones who should be out here, walking amid and learning about Colorado’s nature. Sure, our elementary age children are taught that our state flower’s the Rocky Mountain columbine, our tree’s the Colorado blue spruce and other facts during statehood study. But it’s not enough. Only by spending time in nature, visiting our parks, seeing what makes Colorado unique botanically, climatically, geologically, and learning the human history, does nature study become real.
While there are a few more intense educational offerings for children on the study of natural sciences (the School in the Woods here in Colorado Springs comes to mind), they are rare. Most education of this type is targeted toward the adult student, and most Master Gardener and Native Plant Master graduates are over age 40. This needs to change. Children thrive with this type of hands-on schooling, and, as they are our environments’ future caretakers, the time to introduce them to it is now.
Sandra Knauf (sandra@sandraknauf.com) lives in Colorado Springs and publishes the zine “Greenwoman.” She’s also working on her first novel.
