I had the rare privilege of accompanying our primary school children on a bushwalk to a gully today. (Usually I teach Yr 11 English & Comp.)

I learned how to grow peanuts, whose baby brother was just beginning to talk, & that I should more accurately refer to wattle as 'acacia'.

In the gully, I observed their creative play, & heard the magical language of childhood.

Two self-proclaimed 'disobedient mountain goats' good-naturedly taunted these fisherman who retorted:

'Be silent, boring herbivores, we're not wasting our time listening to your insults!'

Other children were exclaiming over the wonders of moss & grass & lichen, & building small stone forts to 'protect the species'. (They definitely came of age during a drought).

They took time to compare the temp variances under the stones which had moss & those which didn't.

Further down, another team was busy catching minnows, identifying larvae, and trying to distinguish frog tadpoles from toad tadpoles.

The words 'habitat' & 'ecosystem' were thrown around with alarming ease.

Who teaches these kids nowadays?!

I felt blessed by the barefooted peace of these precious little people in the best playground ever created.