My earliest memory is of forests. I grew up in an old house right next to a state forest in Denmark, and the property the house was on had an abundance of trees. My brother and I would play under the trees, climb the trees, build huts using branches from the trees, and swing from branches and yell out like we were Tarzan. As children, we had the freedom to roam as we pleased as long as we didn’t break one cardinal rule – to be back home at a specified time. Over time, my sojourns into the forest expanded. When I was 11, I got a horse and began exploring the forest on horseback. If I came upon a deer, it would not bolt. I was not seen as a human mounted on a horse, and the deer would merely look and then continue feeding. My brother and I were given sleeping bags, and we would sleep outdoors. All our spare time, whether with each other or with friends were spent outdoors and mainly in the forest. Forests became a place that nourished our souls. When I was 13, we immigrated to Canada. After a year in Toronto, we moved to a property on the Oak Ridges Moraine, and again forests were nearby. I continued to be drawn into the forest by some invisible force. I was not necessarily interested in knowing the various species of trees, birds, insects and plants I encountered. It was more that I just felt comfortable and safe within the forest. I felt I belonged. In my middle teens, I began to go canoeing first in Algonquin Provincial Park and then in the Temagami region. This I did with a good friend and often my brother. We would be gone for up to a month, often in August. We loved the adventure, the solitude, the camaraderie, sleeping under the stars, eating blueberries and catching fish we fried over the open fire. These trips were not to learn the ecology of the lakes and forests or learn the names of things. These were trips to be in nature. It was only later in my life, when I started university, that I began to study nature and eventually to teach about nature.