Draft 1 of intro for article-in-progress, for publication next spring...⁠ ⁠ ~⁠ ⁠ “Thank you plants, for giving us your medicine. Thank you for helping us live! Thank you plants, for giving us our medicine. Thank you for helping us live!” We sing, share about plants we’re grateful for, put our paws in the center of the circle, then howl our way out into the woods. ⁠ ⁠ Before formally becoming an herbalist, I was an outdoor educator, primarily for homeschool kids in New England. We roamed woods and fields through every season, drinking fresh black birch syrup in the spring, savoring rose petal chocolates in the summer, jumping in rainbow leaf piles in the autumn, and tracking critters in the fresh winter snow. I found my own love of plants by guiding kids to see beyond the “green wall” of the natural world into a new yet ancient world of botanical names, lore, practicality, beauty, and magic. ⁠ ⁠ “I want to tell you about one of my favorite plants.” My pack of feral children fall silent, their eyes shining around the forest edge, trying to guess which plant. I wink, “Don’t reveal my secret if you know already.” Before we enter the forest, I ask, “Check out this leaf. Tell me what you see.” Little voices pipe out, “It’s red!” “Well that one’s green.” “It’s on the ground.” “Yeah, that one’s going up the tree.” “There are three leaflets per leaf.” “The side leaflets look like ears!” We gather our observations, then give the plant a name, “Shiny Face.” Only after we gather our observations do I share about this plant. Poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans, Anacardiaceae), the protector of the forest, is one of the first plants I share about, along with other potential hazards, before we begin any new class. ⁠ ⁠ We begin every class with a song, gratitude circle, then another song before different age clusters dance off into the trees. Younger kids gravitate towards imaginative play. Older kids learn specific skills, and share with the young ‘uns. We sing songs, gather observations, make up stories, and play games galore. As kids playing in woods grow into adults leading in communities, we nurture botanical resilience in our future generations, for all our relations.