🍄 For the Littles — Children of the Forest Part II
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Last week, in Part I of this For the Littles blog series, I invited you to step outside together and walk with Winter — somewhere quiet, where listening and gathering could happen naturally, and where we noticed what gifts from nature asked to come home with us.
This week, we continue the journey indoors, bringing those moments with us — into the warmth of our cozy homes, perhaps by firelight or candlelight. We gather in the quieter moments of the day, mornings and evenings, and listen for the stories that want to unfold when winter slows us down enough to let our imaginations speak.
After days that pull us outward — errands, travel, weather, holidays, and noise — winter gently invites us back inside.
Small hands crave rhythm. Handwork can be deeply nourishing: finger knitting, drawing, playing with clay, painting, baking healthy treats. I will always love the scent of maple-syrup–spiced walnuts or almonds roasting in the oven — filling the house with sweet spice and reminding me of those tender, bygone days.
As we settle into this slower, more nourishing pace, stories begin to look for somewhere to land. This is a wonderful moment to gather small bits and pieces to create a magical place — a nature table altar — where the little forest folk can arrive.
Handmade Nature Folk
Winter days invite small hands to make small worlds. Perhaps some of the treasures gathered during last week’s winter walk want to become a little forest person or creature.
A whole walnut can become a body, with a bit of clay shaped into a head where a simple face emerges. If you don’t have walnuts, that’s perfectly fine. Acorns, stones, pinecones — even a simple wooden clothespin — can become the foundation for creating.
A low-temperature glue gun works well for little hands and is less likely to cause burns, though I always recommend keeping a watchful eye when it’s in use. Better safe than not.
The magic isn’t in the materials — though tidbits from nature do add wonderful character. The true magic lives in the imagining.
Wool, moss, or ribbon for hair.
An acorn cap for a hat.
Lichen, bark, and colorful fabric scraps for clothing.
Feathers or dried mushrooms for wings.
Beads, buttons, dried beans, lentils, or thread for eyes and mouths.
Let your child's imagination lead, and allow each little forest folk to reveal themselves as they come to life.
Where Stories Take Flight
Who will be joining us on this fine Winter day? Asking our children gentle questions about the creatures and forest folk they are creating often lays the foundation for the stories that want to emerge.
Sometimes the children of the forest don’t reveal themselves right away. You might simply observe your child’s creation and ask open, wondering questions:
Where does your creature sleep at night?
What is their favorite food?
Do they live with their family?
Who is in their family?
More often than not, a child’s imagination answers without hesitation — names arrive, relationships form, and a story begins to take shape.
Our children love creating worlds and building magical places for the little folk and creatures they’ve made to live, play, and work. Their worlds come to life through what you gathered outdoors and what you already have at home: a long blue silk scarf becomes a river winding through the forest, stones and moss line its edges, and the nature table becomes a seasonal stage — honoring the time of year while bringing crafts and stories to life.
These worlds can be created on a small, child-height table or on a spacious windowsill — anywhere the imagination feels welcome.
And in creating these worlds, we learn so much. We allow the learning to be child-led and to unfold naturally. Perhaps you craft a wee bed for one of the little people to sleep in, and this sparks a question: Where does the hummingbird sleep in winter? Where does the fox sleep? Does a bear sleep, or hibernate? What is the difference between sleep and hibernation? What other animals hibernate — and why?
And off you go — learning together from a place of genuine curiosity and shared wonder.
Let the creating, the questions, and the unfolding stories meet your child exactly where they are — in the present moment, and in what they are curious about right now. After all, lifelong learning is simply the practice of nurturing curiosity, again and again.
Let Your Children Lead
When stories begin to form, let them belong to the child. Engage imaginatively, but resist the urge to guide the plot. Let the narrative wander. Let it change direction. Let it become absurdly silly or deeply serious — and allow your child to show the way.
You may ask softly:
What is happening now?
What does this one want?
Who is listening?
What adventure is so-and-so going on today?
Stories told this way speak directly to a child’s inner world — their hopes, their worries, and their understanding of how things connect.
I witnessed this with my eldest son, Julian.
He would gather his younger brothers and neighborhood children and build entire worlds from the environments they created together — often in their playhouse. Many of his stories involved animals on a farm: growing food, gathering harvests, and preparing great feasts. He and his brothers spent countless hours immersed in imaginative play. Julian was 7-8 at the time, as I remember many drawn pictures and conversations about the Circus Farm he was going to live on someday. I loved his imagination so much.
Nothing was scripted.
Everything was alive in the moment.
These stories didn’t just entertain — they often became real-time learning. After imagining gardens and harvests, there would be a sudden interest in planting seeds and growing food for real. My boys grew beets, carrots, and Sungold cherry tomatoes — which we affectionately still call garden candy.
Often, these stories and imaginative worlds offer us a glimpse into our children’s development. They reveal how a child is making sense of new information, relationships, or situations in their world — and how we can best show up to support and guide them.
The Ongoing Gift of the Nature Table Altar
You have essentially co-created a very special place in your home — one that both you and your child will return to again and again throughout the year, as the Wheel turns and the seasons change.
This space encourages seasonal reverence, wonder, and imagination, as we welcome each new season and lovingly bid the last season farewell — perhaps with the simple song I shared in Part I of this series.
Wherever you choose to place your Nature Table Altar, be sure it’s somewhere your child can easily access throughout the day. Choose a small, quiet place: a low shelf on a bookcase, a sunny windowsill, or a child-height table.
As the seasons shift, you can gently pack away the current Nature Table Altar and recreate a new one that reflects the season arriving — using items gathered from nature and around your home. The photo above is a precious photo of my twin boys, Elyas (on the left), and Tryndl (on the left), they were 6 years old, decorating our Winter Nature Table Altar with a family of Boletus Edulis (porcini) mushrooms they had collected that day while we were mushroom hunting and hiking together as a family.
In our family, we marked these moments at the turning points of the year: Winter Solstice (Yule, around December 21), Spring Equinox (Ostara, around March 20), Summer Solstice (Midsummer, June 20–21), and Fall Equinox (Mabon, around September 22–23).
After a year, you may bring out the previous year's Nature Table Altar for your child to “unbox” — welcoming back the children of the forest, reminiscing over last year’s treasures and creations, while beginning to add new offerings from the present moment and the season now unfolding.
These seasonal Nature Table Altars are ever-evolving, living spaces that honor your child’s development and foster an ongoing relationship with the natural world. A child who feels deeply connected to nature often grows into an adult who respects and cares for Mama Gaia.
In our family, we would light a candle on our Nature Table Altar to honor the turning of the Wheel, share a new or beloved story, enjoy a special seasonal treat, and craft something together. This becomes a place to return to — again and again.
As the Wheel turns, I’ll continue this series with special crafts and treats for each season’s arrival. I hope you’ll come back often to visit and continue the journey with us.
A Winter Blessing for Parents
Winter appears quiet and empty,
As if the forest animals, birds, and insects have gone away.
Yet Winter and all its creatures are tucked in —
Cozy, quiet, and resting —
before Winter’s long pause gives way to the slow awakening
And the blossoming joy of Spring.
Roots deepen.
Forest creatures rest and dream.
New life waits quietly beneath the surface —
the hopeful promise of new beginnings.
When we slow enough to notice the world through the eyes of our children,
We remember how to listen —
To find awe in the smallest wonders,
To deepen our own connection,
To relearn trust,
And discover that unconditional love is as natural as breath.
Sing songs together.
Play in the mud, climb trees, build forts, and faerie houses in the woods.
Tell stories from your own childhood,
As the gift of parenting awakens your heart,
Holds you in its endless teachings,
And heals humanity one happy, connected nature child at a time.
Now go gather your littles into a big mama-bear hug — because if you blink, they’ll be 21, 21, and 25. Le sigh.
Until next time: play with abandon, count your blessings, make something, eat healthy, nourishing foods, and remember, life is a gift we show up for every day.
Love & Bunnies,
Auntie Blueberry