Lessons from Dad: A Father's Day Remembrance

The natural world heals, nurtures and sustains me. When I am tired or cranky, a walk in the woods restores my spirits. A vigorous swim in the ocean relaxes and invigorates me.

My father had a love of the outdoors, and some of my happiest memories are about doing things with Daddy outside. Until I was 12 years old, we lived in a suburb of New York City. A happy memory of being outside was raking leaves and burning them in the backyard…this was the New York suburbs in the early 1950s, and burning leaves in the backyard or at the curb was sanctioned, probably even encouraged so the municipality wouldn’t have to dispose of them.

We’d rake leaves in the evening, after Dad had come home on the train from Manhattan. I made small “campfires” of carefully crossed sticks and added dried leaves. I’d come inside, smelling of woodsmoke and take my bath in the old claw-foot tub before getting into bed.

I was an extremely active child—they didn’t use the term “hyper” back then, but I was. In elementary school, we had physical education three times a week—my salvation. We spent time climbing on thick heavy ropes suspended from the ceiling. I learned to wrap the rope in my feet, and using hand-over-hand technique, shimmy up to the ceiling and back down in no time.

So my father hung a rope from a large oak tree in the backyard for me to play on, a heavy rope with a wooden bar attached at the bottom, which kept me entertained for hours. I’d hold onto the bar, run, and swing high from side to side. Often I’d hook my knees around the bar, and swing upside down, my arms free. It was exhilarating and liberating.

My father, mother, and two sisters would go up to Ragged Mountain, in Andover, New Hampshire, for two weeks each summer. We stayed in a rustic cabin, and we three girls slept on a screened porch overlooking Mount Kearsarge.

I loved the freedom of being at Ragged, where we could play and explore. I had a secret path down to the lower ridge, which emerged near my best friend Susie’s house.

Dad taught me to swim in the spring-fed, salamander-rich pond at Ragged Mountain. He would do a flying dive off the dock, while the rest of the adults would walk in. Most impressive! I too always went for the dramatic dive off the dock into the water. You’d have to do a flat racing dive, as it was fairly shallow. That only added to the fun.

I had to prove competence by swimming out to the raft alone. What joy: swimming to the raft, climbing up the ladder, jumping off, then doing it again and again and again. Remembering that total joy gives me a hint of the bliss a golden retriever on a scent must experience.

My father and I were always awake and up before everyone else. It was quiet and no one else was around, and we’d often go fishing for trout in the pond. He taught me how to fly-fish—keep the elbow close to the side, and let the rod do the work of casting the line. He showed me how to gently place the fly on the water so a hungry trout would take it. It was such a thrill to catch a fish, and in the pond it was always a trout. We’d bring the trout home and Dad would clean it, fry up bacon and the trout, and carefully pull the flesh off the bones for my breakfast.

My father also taught me how to row an old-style, heavy wooden boat with wooden oars and open-top oarlocks. Rowing taught me how to pay special attention to pull on the oars so they wouldn’t pop out of the locks and send the rower abruptly backwards; how to keep the rowboat going in a straight line, by focusing on a tree on the horizon in the direction I was facing.

In many ways, my present life is a continuation of the lessons I learned from my father. In 1973 I moved to New Hampshire with my husband John. We lived in a teepee while we built our modest home in Epsom. Soon afterwards, with infant Robb in tow, we moved to Wilmot and started a cross-country ski center. John designed and cut the trail system. I taught skiing and led moonlight tours.

I also developed an interest in vegetable gardening. I put in a huge garden around the time our daughter Jessie was born, “put up” garden veggies, and learned about harvesting wild herbs for healing, making my own tinctures and salves.

I became a Master Gardener and now I teach others to take care of plants and the Earth, and started a garden design business, designing, installing, and maintaining flower gardens for area clients.

Dad died this April at the age of 93. As I look back, reflecting on his life and my own, I realize how much my father shaped the life I lead. We’ll stay connected through the love of the outdoors he so generously shared with me.

Thanks, Dad.

By Nancy Schlosser, UNH Cooperative Extension Master Gardener

For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email. Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday 9:00am to 2:00 p.m.

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