About Julie
Decades later, I’m a mama raising a southern boy near Atlanta. He knows the colors of backyard birds and barred owls; has made wishes in the Chattahoochee River; knows honeysuckle is delightful; and never misses an opportunity to put the zippy taste of wood sorrel on his tongue. We spend our summer in Ithaca, with family, and there’s a whole world there too. My intimacy with grass and creeks and sunshine met me early and never left, though I certainly find myself facing a million things to distract me from it. (I have a full-time job in non-profit fundraising, etc..) A relationship with the outdoors can be challenging, but the unconditional love from nature for us is astounding.
My earliest memory in nature is rolling on grass, in the backyard of my family’s suburban home in Central Pennsylvania. It was waxy, Gumby green, and manicured. Further up the hill, my friend’s mom grew “bleeding hearts” and I was shown how to gently pry open a baby bird pink petal to reveal a teardrop, an inverted heart, a pair of wings, and an ice skate.
Later in my childhood, we moved to a house with the Yellow Breeches creek gently snaking across the backyards of our street. I flipped over rocks to reveal crayfish. A snapping turtle lived in the foot-high “deep-end”, and my dad’s arms kept getting wider every time someone asked him how big it was. Friends and I would walk the creek in old soggy sneakers. The creek flows into the Susquehanna River, which flows into the Atlantic Ocean. I’m a northern girl.
I trained as a guide with the Association for Nature & Forest Therapy from 2024-2026 with the intention of learning the names of our waterways and how to best “steward” the land we live on. The process has done so much more than that. It has reminded me that the northern girl with soggy sneakers is still a huge part of me; that I feel the most at home near a creek; that slowing down outside, in community, with little distraction or entertainment is a radical act. When I was in New Hampshire for my nature therapy guide immersion it became clear that there are three steps, which are easy enough to follow, to get back to the forest, back to ourselves, and back to each other: Slow down; fall in love; take your place. I love the practice of guiding nature therapy because all I have to do is simply open the door - the forest does the rest. I can’t wait to meet you there.