Child born of the woods

My childhood was in the woods. Having Angela Hanscom, the founder of TimberNook, as my mother meant that I was thrown outside growing up, the door shutting closed behind me. My summers were spent building elaborate forts in the forest with pulley systems high up in the trees, swimming in mud puddles and maybe building a trip wire or two.  

I wasn’t allowed to own a cell phone until my freshman year of high school. I used to complain to my mom, “I live under a rock!” What I didn’t realize back then was that a childhood spent in play would serve me well later in life. When I first entered high school, I noticed that the other kids were glued to their devices and struggled with normal face-to-face interactions. The majority of them wouldn’t even hold a conversation for more than thirty seconds. Many hid behind their phones to avoid eye contact. I was shocked! That’s when I realized my childhood story was significantly different than most. 

Next year, I will be attending the University of Maine-Orono. Below is the college essay I was inspired to write about my adventures amongst the trees.

I was running through the woods. I was running away from something. Someone. I turned to look behind me to see if they were still in pursuit. I almost tripped over a root and fell on my face, dropping the valuable treasure I was carrying. Gasping for air, I willed my legs to move faster; to generate enough power to take me away. My grungy bare feet hit the forest floor faster, but not fast enough. They failed me. 

One of the boys grabbed the rubber tire that I was trying to carry back to the safety of the girl’s fort. He yanked it as I called for backup. 

“I need some help over here!” I heaved the tire back just as hard, refusing to give up after an elaborate tire escape plan had been agreed upon by everyone. 

Just fifteen minutes ago, we had huddled in the safe enclosure of our lean-to fortress, whispering about our plan. One of us would create a distraction. This would pull the boys away from their sad attempt at a fort. Then, while the others were busy, someone would sneak into their fort and steal our tire back. I was the leader, so I was elected to fetch it. 

The game was a battle. Boys versus girls. The strong would conquer all of the loose parts that were in the woods, and the weak? Well, let’s just say that by the time the week was over, their scraggly-looking fort in the corner of the woods wouldn’t have a single tire to its name.

Eventually, our stealing and secret societies started getting out of hand, so our camp counselors called a democratic meeting during lunchtime where problems were resolved by majority vote. 

“You should only be able to steal things that aren’t attached to forts,” one of the boys said. 

“You’re just going to make the tires and everything a part of your fort so that no one can steal them!” I cried. A thirty-minute debate between sides broke out with lots of pouting and yelling. No solution was agreed upon, so we just went back to playing – the TimberNook way. 

I was uniquely well-versed in the TimberNook way. As a child, my mom ran a summer camp called “TimberNook” in the twelve acres of forest that we had in our backyard. I grew up playing in the woods. It was my home. A typical summer day was filled with adventures: creating obstacles through giant mud puddles, hunting for treasure buried in the river and cooking banana splits over the fire. 

When I got frustrated or needed a break from the constant sprinting, shouting and plundering, I would climb to the top of my favorite tree. Sitting still, nestled into the thinning trunk, I would listen to the birds chirp and the branches sway as I allowed nature to fill my senses and relax me. Once I was calm again, I would swiftly climb back down the tree and get right back into the game. 

By the end of a typical TimberNook week, everyone was completely worn out from a full week of playing in the woods. We were all covered in grime, dirt smeared on our faces. On the last day, everyone filed out of the woods, leaving our stick swords and beaded necklaces behind. Taking one last look over our shoulders, we rounded the last wooded corner and went home.

I still go out into the woods and remember all the times I was free to play like a kid. Recalling the faces of pure joy that blurred as I ran past them through the trees are some of my favorite memories. 

Bravery, resilience, leadership and independence took root in me, thanks to my childhood. I faced unique challenges while growing up playing in the woods, and as a result, I have become a stronger person. While most kids my age struggle with their identities, I know exactly who I am. I am firm in my beliefs. I am constant and loyal to friends and family. My personality doesn’t change based on who is around me. I love a good challenge and am constantly seeking adventure in life.   

TimberNook will always be there for me, tucked away in the back of my mind, waiting for me to revisit the comfort of the forest. I still climb to the very top of my favorite tree, in the heart of the forest, and just listen. Just be.

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