Curiosity Has Its Own Reason for Existence

We learn from the unknown

Photo by Annie Spratt

There had been rain for several days and finally, it let up.

I was housebound and the call of the woods, with its deer trails, towering trees, and mysterious shadows, all awaited my anxious exploration.

As a boy, the sanctity of my bedroom was a refuge that held books, drawing pads, and my creative imagination. But even beloved, safe places cannot hold us forever. We won’t grow unless we step outside ourselves and beyond the boundaries of familiarity and security.

So I slipped on my jacket, beanie cap, and rubber boots.

Dad was reading a novel, Mom was watching something on television, and I said I was going outside to the woods above our backyard. For me, the woods were an oasis of wildlife, serenity, and escape.

“Be sure to take your boots off when you get back. I don’t need mud all over the house,” Mom said.

It was autumn, the air was brisk, and the earthy aroma of petrichor filled my nostrils with a sense of calm nostalgia. I ran across the backyard and into the arms of the damp, abiding woods.

I looked up and spied remnants of the tree house my friend and I built the previous summer. An old, discarded card table served as the base, reinforced with…