My son came home smelling like a bonfire

The other week, my son came home smelling like a bonfire. His Bluey waterproofs were muddy, his boots coated with a thick layer of mud, his pockets full of little treasures, and his hair carried the smell of campfire smoke long after bedtime.

A friend had recommended forest school to me over a year ago, and I don't think I fully realised just how much magic it would hold.

At Nestlings Forest School that day, the children had chopped strawberries together, made strawberry jam over a tiny fire and toasted croissants on sticks over the flames. The forest school leader later messaged me to say that more strawberries were eaten than actually made it into the pan.

Sometimes when I hear myself describing his nursery experience out loud to friends or family, it all feels slightly surreal to me.

I grew up in India in the 90s, in a busy city where nursery education mostly meant sitting in a classroom.

A lot of my early memories of school involve sitting at a desk repeating A B C D over and over again, trying to follow instructions properly and getting told not to talk too much.

That’s not to say we didn’t play outside. We did.

I have lovely memories of cycling around with friends, collecting sticks and stones, playing Lagori (seven tiles) and badminton outside until it got dark, and finding ways to entertain ourselves without screens constantly in front of us.

But nature itself wasn’t really part of our education in the way it is here.

So sometimes, when I watch my son at forest school, it genuinely feels a bit magical to me.

Tiny muddy waterproofs.

Children making soup out of leaves and rainwater.

Digging for worms like it’s the most important job in the world.

Climbing logs. Jumping in muddy puddles.

Sitting around a fire together for story time.

No one asking them to sit still for hours.

No pressure to perform.

Just space to explore, get messy and be curious.

Watching tiny children confidently move through nature is healing something in me too.

Maybe it’s because I spent so much of my childhood wishing to be grown up, and it reminds me that childhood does not need to be rushed.

Maybe it’s because watching children be themselves in nature feels strangely calming for adults too.

Or maybe a part of me is grieving a version of childhood I never really had.

Either way, I feel really grateful that my son gets this kind of start to life.

As we snuggled together in bed that night, Eli's hair still smelling faintly of bonfire smoke, I hoped that he would always carry a little bit of forest school magic with him...

Eli saying hello to the goats on our first visit to Nestlings Forest School in April 2025.