EARLIER this week, I stood in the woods watching a single golden leaf spiral slowly to the ground. It had clung on for as long as it could, and then, just like that, it let go.
That’s autumn for you. A quiet letting go.
The trees do it every year. They shed what’s no longer needed, trusting that spring will bring new growth. And every year, without fail, it does.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how hard that part of parenting can be - the letting go.
Our little one is right on the cusp of crawling. He rocks back and forth, determined and a little frustrated, ready to move but not quite sure how. And I keep finding myself racing ahead of him, putting down cushions, moving toys out of the way, trying to make sure every possible surface is soft and safe.
But the truth is, I won’t always be able to soften the fall. Sometimes he’s going to bump, topple, or get stuck. And while that’s hard to watch, it’s also where the learning lives.
Because falling teaches balance. Struggling builds strength. And letting go - just a little - creates space for resilience to grow.
Children don’t need us to pave the path perfectly. They need us to walk alongside them, letting them try, and trusting they’ll find their way.
We’ll be out among the falling leaves, boots on, coats zipped, and cheeks rosy - busy preparing for the opening of our Outdoor Nursery this January. We can’t wait to welcome a new community of little explorers for full days of learning, playing, and growing beneath the trees
