Each summer, King County Parks hires local high schoolers to intern in the Youth Conservation Corps (YCC) program. During summer 2023, the YCC interns were challenged to write about their relationships with nature, land, and the environment in a writing form of their choice.
Through guided activities, the interns explored their personal connection to nature and land with an emphasis on how these relationships change over time or are influenced by life experiences.
These pages contain a playful poem about a Douglas Fir, a love poem from the land itself, a story of an alley filled with childhood imagination, a heartfelt essay about a lost but not forgotten cow field, and so many more descriptive reflections of our deep connections with land and the places we call home.
This is the final entry in a three-part series. Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.
Interested in learning more about the YCC? Want notifications on when applications are open for the 2024 cohort? Go to kcpyouthcorps.org
Anise Jones
Nature’s Playground
In the heart of the woods where secrets lie
Stands a Douglas Fir reaching for the sky
Children scatter, seeking out their space
Within the shelter of this green embrace
Amongst the needles, they find their nook
Hidden from view, like an open book
But Beyond the game of stealth and seek
Pine cones await, a game to tweak
They pick them up with a gleeful cheer
For dodgeball now, the task is clear
Beneath the endless sky of blue,
in open fields where wildflowers grew
Stands a dandelion, a globe of white
This was a universe in a child’s sight
With tiny fingers, I would grasp
Every fragile seed, a dream to clasp
A gentle blow, a wish set free, like whispers carried on the breeze
Each seed a dream, a chance anew
In a dandelions dance, my spirit flew
In fields of green, a wild expanse
as a kid, I join the dance
Through tall grass, I leap and run
Laughing with the endless fun
Each blade a world, a secret maze
With enchanted hideouts and endless ways
In the arms of nature, I am free
Because a wild spirit is forever me
Daniel Vila Ferreri
I look down the path, the first truly secluded path I’d been on. Standing there as I breathed in the air that multiple trees worked to remove from themselves and breathing out the carbon dioxide that they needed for themselves as well. There is a dichotomy in these two as they are, but not in the sense of how they breathe, for in a similar sense a cycle needs to keep moving to be called as such. That dichotomy, the totality of sentience and insentience, is what sets them apart. From here, though the leaves breathe and move with the wind, though they move throughout the day to maximize their production of energy, they think nothing. But here where I stand, I reminisce on the factors bringing me to this spot in time, that old path near a stadium where nearby trains still can be heard. What brings me here, out of all places?
That sense of silence, mayhaps. Or the quiet rustling of leaves as the wind blows them asunder. Here I am tasked with discovering myself whereso I cannot even decide wholly on what shirt to wear every day to work… So then, why do I find myself back at this place again, years later?
Woe is not predisposed to such a man as I, though as him I find little solace in the fact that time never changes FOR change.
Whereso, we find the reader and at once as well, their author, at the fork in the retelling of the story. Here, the author could reminisce on how he has gotten to where he is, or he could tell the reader what changed from then to now. However, the author finds it pertinent here to do both, and so we create a secret third path in the route that is the retelling of my stories thus far.
Those familiar times wherein change was later and nostalgia of yesterday and not yesteryears. Those times remind us of one thing; the progression of time marches on, unhindered and unwavering in its mission, and that our memory accelerates with it. This scribes the importance of memory and telling stories, something we all do in our day to day lives. I feel as if the question of importance should be how nature has changed. But the real question is how it has changed us. Be it with time, experience, or plain fun. That much can be easily explained.
Then we arrive at the answer wanted: nature changed the author by existing, by changing and influencing the world around him. Were it not for nature, the author would not be here. It would be cliche to say, but we are nature. Therefore this is why the question of how nature has changed us is null and void. Asking the question of how nature has changed us is in of itself contradictory. Nature IS us changing. That’s its definition, perhaps.
And again I come back to this path, those years passed. Now the pavement is cracked and crumbling, but I am anew. The true dichotomy of change. Before I saw the world simply and throughout with indifference, I find myself mature now, willing to do more and try more things. Now I am old enough to work, to have a job, to be mature in these sorts of settings. Nature influenced that by growing with me and needing maintenance, giving me experience and preparation for future tasks. That’s a way nature has changed this author.
It brings me to this quote by the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who states,
“Nothing is permanent except change.”
That quote has stuck with me a lot. Especially during these past couple of weeks with YCC. So I believe it’s important that I share it with you all too, because it applies at all times, in all aspects, in every corner of the world. I hope the author and those who listen and read can ascribe to this sentiment.