It Must Be October! #WriteOut, @WriteOutConnect, @writingproject - I'm a Little Behind, But Here's a Post. Get Outside. Take a Pen & Notebook. Think.

Truth: National Writing Project Directors may take a 'day off,' but they're never really taking a day off. 

Truth: I saw a small window of opportunity to visit my parents in my childhood home this weekend, so I went there to take care of them.

Truth: It was a short visit, and if you read my post yesterday, you'll realize I left my computer there and had to retrace steps to retrieve it (after being on the road for over 2 hours heading back to Connecticut) (turned around...got the computer).

Truth: I did get outdoors, and I grew nostalgic. 

Truth: Also sad. As a boy, my backyard was shaded and protected by huge Elm trees behind our house, long before a newer neighborhood was built behind us. The elm trees were warriors that stood guard over our my wiffleball games and water balloon fights. When I looked out at the northern sky each night, I'd always say good night to the Elms, as they seemed to grow taller each year like I did. They provided shade on humid days and beds of leaves we loved to pile up and ravage. They tempered lake effect snow, thunderstorms, and severe winds. Most importantly, they were the only view we had in the back of the house.

A few years ago, however, the trees fell victim to Dutch Elm disease caused by Elm Bark Beetles. The row of trees is eerily non-existent now. They've been vacated. Yes, squirrels still climb them in hope of building nests and crows lounge on the top branches, but the trees no longer produce leaves. Their souls disappeared a few years ago.

I learned recently that it isn't the beetles or the fungus that kills the trees. In truth, the trees actually kill themselves from within, shutting off tyloses that transport water as a way to keep the beetles and fungus from spreading upward. In this sense, they take their own lives to protect themselves and dry up out.A couple of the trees have been taken down, and others remain as skeletons to paint the skies with branched lungs that used to be - their veins and arms that used to hug my friends and I.

This Saturday, our teaching crew will once again meet Dr. Richard Novack and Ranger Kristin Lessard at Weir Farm National Historical Park for a third get-together in support of ecological literacies and outdoor learning. During our first night - inspired by NWP colleagues across the nation - I offered a "water" narrative with prompts to get our teachers thinking about the ways water has impacted their own outdoor life. I repost it here, however, in case you'd like to choose one and respond in your own writer's notebook. There's nothing better than October air, and in the northeast that means t-shirts and shorts during the day, and hoodies, sweatpants, and thick blankets at night - the perfect sleeping weather.

And I know I have more to write about my childhood Elm trees and I just might take them this Saturday at Weir Farm. Find a way to connect with a National Park near you.

#WriteOut is a breeze, but you have to get outside to feel one.